The Damned Dont Cry

Gigi closed her Bible, holding it close to her chest. She hadn’t been this close to him since that night in his bedroom. Sometimes her mind wanders to the night, when she denied his kiss. When she was alone in some abandoned building somewhere, wishing for any sort of human contact, she replayed that moment over and over in her mind. How different would things have changed, if she wasn’t such a fucking idiot? She hated the way he looked at her with his baby blues, like she would do anything but break his heart. She had to leave the vault behind, and that meant leaving him behind.His hands fell to a lock of hair that fell out of her bun. Butch rolled the strand in between his fingers, trying to delay the inevitable. She’d go back to the surface, get swallowed up by the wasteland, change more than she’d been changed already. He’d never see her again, and that made his stomach burn and twist; it made him want to throw up on his polished boots. Somewhere along the line, Butch realized he’d gladly fall on his knees and beg for her to stay to keep her from walking out the vault door. But he doubted she’d want that—she’d probably laugh, kick him to the curb. She didn’t like him, not like that.