Exhale
You listen to the slight whistle of air and rain. Of your own breath escaping the cage that is your chest. Of the rhythmic drumming of your heart.
No chants to be heard around you.
Was it your mind playing games with you? It probably is.
You took a moment to gather your senses, sitting on the floor of whoever house this may have been. What's the use of survival, you thought, if this is how things turn? You don't even know why it turned this way. What salvation this Sam may bring to you and your loss? He said they were wrong. Is it wrong to save you? Why isn't your mother saved? Why were you saved?
The silence listened to all of your thoughts. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, your mind asked for lights. Weary that electricity might not work, you wandered into a somewhat seeable environment. This would've been a nice living room, had it not looked ramshackle. The TV screen was smashed beyond repair, a broken chair, and several shards of glassware and plates were across the floor. The dust has started to settle in. Some of the windows are boarded. You're lucky the front door was open, or your thoughts might have eaten your sanity more.
You listened carefully for safety and, when you felt so, started to clean the debris around. Using a leg of the broken chair, you pushed the glass shards and ceramics to the sides, making sure that there is a straight line from the door to the middle of the room. There is a staircase that leads upstairs, a small kitchen a little ways ahead, and a locked small room. What's unlocked, however, are the cabinets in the kitchen, which contain a pack of bottled water and a couple of canned goods.
After creating a path for yourself, you slowly crept upstairs. Wood creaks fill the silent space with each step. Slowly, as you worry of a blinded up top. With a leg of a broken chair in one hand, you surveyed the area. A short hallway parallel to the stairs leads to two doors to the side and a final door at the end of the hallway. None of these doors are boarded, except for the windows at the end of the stairs. Cautiously you looked around before holding the door knob.
Dum-dum. Dum-dum. The ever-rhythmic beat of your heart.
Woosshsh. The continuous whistling of the wind and rain outside.
Click. The doorknob.
Boogsh . The door did not budge. Something is blocking it from the inside.
Creaks. The wooden floor of the hallway.
Wooossh. The continuous whistling of the wind and rain.
Creak. The wooden floor.
The next door clicks open. The slow creak of the door resonates through the silent hallway. Nothing has changed with the sounds: no chants. The first thing that you notice is a small bed, fit for a person, with a tablet on it. To the left is a little table, a pair of glasses, and a broken picture frame. Atop the table is a window, boarded albeit with a small gap to see the front of the house, which you noticed has stopped raining. Knowing nothing worthwhile was there, you slowly walked towards the third door.
Click, the doorknob doesn't budge. It has been locked.
You let out a sigh of relief and let yourself release the stiffness of your body. How long was your body that stiff? God knows when. You went back downstairs, made sure you locked the door, grabbed the canned goods and water bottles, and headed up to the second room.
