Rule 7 : Rage

CHAPTER 4: Wake Of Wreckage.

I stumbled towards the window, drawn by the faint promise of warmth. My hand brushed the cool, jagged edges of shattered glass. The world beyond was a scene of utter devastation.

Houses, once symbols of shelter, now stood tilted and broken, their skeletal frames exposed to the sky. Debris littered the street like fallen soldiers, revealing the storm's wrath.

Despair threatened to engulf me as I surveyed the wreckage. But then, a sliver of sunlight pierced through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, a gentle caress that stirred a fragile hope within me.

The basement door slammed shut, a layout that oddly resembled a standard room complete with a bunk bed. I knew my next priority was securing some dry clothes.

My hands scoured every crevice and corner of the room. Then, a glint of metal under the bottom bunk snagged my eye. There, nestled in a hidden drawer lay concealed.

The cool metal of the drawer's handle raised goosebumps on my arms like a swarm of tiny insects. Curiosity and fear pulsed in my chest, making my breath shallow and quick. What secrets might this drawer hold? With a cautious exhale, I wrapped my fingers around the handle and applied gentle pressure. The hinges groaned in protest as I slowly pulled the drawer open.

Inside was a pristine black bag, a cold knot of unease that tightened in my gut. The silence pressed in, broken only by the ragged rasp of my breath. The urge to explore, to unravel the secrets buried beneath the dust, was a siren song I couldn't ignore.

Hesitantly, I reached into the musty depths of the duffel bag. My fingers brushed against something smooth and cold, sending a jolt through my arm. With a trembling hand, I pulled it out into the dim light. It was a gun, heavy and metallic, its barrel gleaming like a malevolent eye.

Beside the gun lay a tattered scrap of fabric, stained with fresh blood, sickening in the weak light. A cold dread slithered down my spine, coiling in my gut like a nest of vipers. My breath hitched, a strangled gasp that scraped raw against my dry throat.

I couldn't hear my heartbeat, only a rushing sound in my ears that threatened to drown out everything else. Desperation clawed at me.

In a hoarse whisper, barely audible even to myself, I rasped, "Hello? Is anyone there?" The sound seemed to mock me, echoing off the damp walls and dying unanswered in the darkness.

My eyes darted around the room, searching every shadowed corner, every hidden space. But there was nothing. Only the heavy silence and the cold weight of the gun in my hand offered any response to the questions that hammered in my mind: What had happened here? Who did this belong to? Where were they now?

I changed into new clothes, swapping my old outfit for comfortable blue jeans and a dark hoodie that felt like a protective cover.

Carefully, I packed my old clothes, the new ones, and my trusty torch together, wrapping them securely in the mystery of the room. I looked around cautiously, thinking every shadow might hide a secret.

With a smooth motion, I sealed the enigmatic black bag and returned it to its hidden place. Amidst this moment, my stomach emitted an impatient growl, reminding me of the journey ahead.

I swung the door open, scanning the room meticulously to ensure no detail had escaped my scrutiny. Satisfied, I gently closed the door behind me, its reassuring click echoing in the stillness.

The key, cool to the touch, found its way back to its assigned place, marking the end of one part of my journey and preparing for the next.

Setting forth on an unknown destination, my heart swelled with anticipation and uncertainty. It was as though a baffling force propelled me onward, a force I couldn't fathom but dared not resist.

Every step demonstrated my persistent pursuit of the uncharted, carrying only a few things.

My vigilant eyes surveyed the area, searching for a safe place to keep my things. During this search, an unforgettable sight left an everlasting mark in my memory.

The bag I relied upon for my possessions unexpectedly became a burden, its once-efficient purpose now heavier and less useful.

In stark contrast, a single plastic bag, carried by the whims of the wind, performed an elegant ballet through the open expanse of air. Its fleeting presence remained seemingly untouched by the worries of the world.

With determination, I decided to claim that plastic bag, a symbol of both vulnerability and toughness.

Yet, as I reached the very spot where it had danced, a wave of frustration threatened to drown me. The bag had vanished, leaving me with nothing but an empty wish.

After hours of walking, in search of sustenance and the comforting presence of fellow human beings, I felt a strong desire for safety and comfort.

I carried on further, even as the fatigue in my limbs threatened to betray my resolve. It was in this moment, as exhaustion clung to me like a shadow, that my eyes fell upon a parked car on the horizon, a signal of hope in my difficult journey. "What a new day!" I thought.

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