[Jonas's POV]
…
The jaws were closing.
I could hear them grind, four sets of hinges working in sick rhythm, every tooth a bar of rusted steel meant to tear me in half.
And here I was again, staring death in the face.
Ah… the nostalgia, if it wasn't just so pathetic.
Reid choose me for a reason; my special ability, it was supposed to make me the cornerstone in the team that he aimed to create to fight their way through the apocalypse to the quarantine zone.
My special ability was supposed to make me the heavy puncher in the group, the trump card, and yet, I keep seeing myself staring at death.
Not just staring, f*cking succumbing to it.
Last time, I thought I was the one protecting Travis. I wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, I was resigned for it, but once again, I only painted a pathetic image as I ended up being the one that was saved.
Since then, I vowed that I won't allow myself be in such a pathetic situation again.
