The Jungle- #Merome fanfiction

The City

Mitchs’ POV

I can not believe it! I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE IT!!!! I leave to go training for 5 minutes! FIVE GOD DAMN MINUTES!!!! I fall down at my cities' gates…well, it was a city, now its in ruins, as a chiefs son, I am used to wars, in fact, I’m used to winning wars! Though I knew that winning streak wouldnt last forever…I look over at my city, the smell of burning filling my sinuses…the smog of the dead filling the air around me, I look at my old house; its timbers arched inwards, a gaping hole where the door once stood. I refuse to enter the city gates, for the fear of seeing my parents, dead or alive, If they had survived, I would have to face saying ’sorry’, a word that I find repulsive, my dad taught me to…NEVER say sorry, though I feel the need to now, I feel the need to enter the city, stand in the centre and scream that I’m sorry…I can’t do anything now, I feel useless, I AM useless…If only I was there for the battle, I could have done something. I was taught by the best….the best being my father….he taught me everything I know; though never how to get the ladies; not a time to be making sex jokes Mitch….Jokes are how I cope in life, to me, everything is a joke, apart from the courage of my family…we were fearless….nothing would stand a chance up against my parents, my dad armed with a bow; he’d never once missed a shot. My mum would wield a sword…she kicked ass with it…to be honest, she was waaaaaay better than me. I had a brother, when we entered fights together, no one stood a chance in hell, he’d take the left side, whilst id take right, I would always use a bow, him a sword…together my family were undefeatable…I love them so much. I lean back, my head lightly resting against the cobble walls of my city…who would have thought it, Mitchell Hughes, crying. 

I finally plucked up the courage to venture into the city, I walk past burning houses holding multiple charred corpses, most of whom were people I knew…dead bodies, don’t frighten me, Im used to being the cause of most of them. I continue walking, the sights I saw becoming like a broken record, repeating itself every couple of seconds, the same scene repeated in my head, the same words running in my mind, cutting deeper into my brain…the ‘What Ifs’ …I slow down, for the first time in my life, I’m scared, I’m scared of what I may see, what I may do and what I may become.

The seconds dragged on…every step was becoming more difficult, I knew what I had to face, the scene was imminent, there was nothing I could do about it, no amount of crying can prevent the eventual pain. I turn the corner, this was the main street, it used to be full of life, but now its the complete opposite; everything seems to be frozen in time, like no one even tried to defend themselves, who am I kidding, no one was trained to ‘fend for themselves’, that was my job…a job that I ultimately failed at. 

There it is…from a distance the view seemed kinder, though up close, its different. My house is no longer up in flames, the fire must have been extinguished by the droplets of blood dripping from the second floor- my parents room…I climb the rafters and charge at the fallen beams blocking the entrance to what was once a room. The attack must have happened at night, my dad would have always been ready to fight, unless of course, he was sleeping. The beam collapses revealing something that I knew I wasn't ready for…before me laid my parents, my dad was holding my mother, as if they knew what was going to happen, they spent their last moments together, just as they would have wanted, it seamed as though they had readied themselves, as their faces were not ones of terror, but ones of love. Suddenly I realise…what became of my brother? The house didn’t have the basic floor plan I was used to, I don’t like change. Connors room was just down the hall, the door was still standing, this I was grateful for, it gave me time to contemplate my feelings, I raised Connor, it was my job, before the fighting and late nights, it was my job to care for this child. Connor is 12, another year and he would have had the same fate as me, sent of for training, same old, same old, you’d pick your weapon of choice and off you go. I was deep in thought when it finally hit me, behind this door I wouldnt see my brother how he was, he wouldnt charge at me, forcing me into a hug, I wouldnt be able to carry him on my shoulders, him laughing when I span him around…Im not ready, I can’t do this…but I have to…I reached forward and grabbed the door handle, it crumbling to ashes in my hands…ironic…sounds a lot like my life. I kick in the door and span around as soon as it fell, I couldn’t look, I feel as though I’m going to throw up, I take a deep breath and turned back around, the shock still turning me pale; I look at him, I’m not looking at Connor, this isn’t the fun-loving boy who completed my world, its a shell, an empty, burnt shell…Im finding it difficult to stand, Im going to collapse- I need to get out of here, I will run to the jungle, anyone trying to chase me will get lost, the jungle is very difficult to navigate. I go over to my brother, crying “I love you, remember that” I say, kissing his forehead and closing his eyes. I walk back past my parents room, “Dad, I’m so glad that I had the chance to call you my father, fight for you and fight with you, I will never forget that” “Mum, you mean so much to me, you were so badass, the best mum any kid could ask for and for that I’m grateful”…”see you later” I say, running from the still smouldering house. Im going to start fresh.