The World Belongs To Us

~R e d~

Song-Never Forget You- Zara Larsson

Aria

Long time ago, there was a girl named Allison.

You may have guessed, but Allison isn't me...any more. When I was Allison, i was very active, smart, and so called "pretty". I had tones of friends, living a normal twelve year old's life: trying to be perfect. Of course, all came to an end when the monstra came.

I'm half latin, and may have a little bit of "cherokee" in me. When i was alone, i met a woman named Jillia. jillia was a wild girl, she told me the only way to survive was to become one with nature, to blend in. i don't believe her. She believes this is God's way of turning back time to when we all were cavemen.

I spent so much time with Jillia, i became just like her.

Not saying i didn't enjoy it, but i felt uncomfortable. We weren't allowed to use Knives, or guns; just spears. Wooden spears, with bird feathers and sharpened stones a the end. We always wore war paint on our faces, red and green markings that resembled us as making peace with the earth. With "god".

When jillia left, she said that she was done. And that it was her time to leave the earth, and i let her. She taught me her ways and they were some how permanent.

....

I scavenged through my backpack, finding the last bit of paint I had left. It became a habit, every morning I'd put paint on my face.

    I took my bag of red raspberry paint. Jillia smashed berries and taught me how to make them "spiritual". I sighed, dipping my finger in and drawing familiar lines and dots on my face.

    I tucked the paint away, grabbing my spear and stomping out of the restroom. My back pack was slung over my shoulder, and my hair felt knotty and greasy. I ran a hand through my golden hair, my fingers getting caught in the leaves and such that were placed in it.

Flashback
"It's always important to wear the paint, Aria." Jillia muses, placing delicate strokes on my face. "It's how God identifies the believers and sane ones in the world. Since you know, everyone's gone to..."

"Shit?"

"Yeah, that." Jillia scrunched up her nose at my harsh comment. She didn't like it when I cursed, yet I was years younger than her.

Jillia has red hair, and beautiful coffee brown eyes. She wore blue war paint on her face. She explained to me that we all have different colours that symbolize us. I was red, beautiful and dangerous. She explained to me she was blue, wise and strategic.

  "Did you have a family before, Jillia?" I asked.

Jillia's brown eyes darken, and she frowns. "Yes, only a brother. I never knew my parents."

"I never knew my mom." I say.

Jillia just nods, giving me the ziplock bag of red raspberry paint.
Flashback over

I checked the compass, I was heading south. I needed to reach shore as soon as possible. I planned on taking a boat, and hauling ass out of the country.

   I felt my fingers tighten around the spear as I passed a gas station, hearing a couple of noises. It could just be Monstra. Besides, survivors avoid the people like me. They know we have nothing.

   Suddenly, a breeze blows into me. So does something else. A hand.

I'm knocked to the ground, scraping my palms in the process.

"Who are you?" A voice asked. I heard more foot steps, and a pair of combat boots were in front of me. I looked up, shielding my eyes from the sun.

"Stay away. I have nothing of your n-needs." I say. My accent is thick, since I haven't talked in American for so long. Jillia was part Latin too, so we always talking in that language.

"I didn't ask for any of your stuff. I asked who are you. Now answer the fucking question." The boy pressed. Yep, a boy.

"A-Aria." I stammer. It takes all my strength to get on to my feet, and I stare at the boy. He has unruly black hair and a pair of glasses sit on the bridge of his nose.

Jillia didn't believe in glasses nor contacts. She said we have to accept our sight, or we won't know what we really see.

"Carl!" The boy yelled. My spear is readied into a stabbing position, and the boy chuckles dryly as another boy steps out of a red pick up truck.

"What's the hold up?" Carl asks. His eyes land on me, and a smirk plays on his face. He has black hair, maybe even dark brown. His eyes are cerulean blue, that have a shimmer of amusement in them. "Ah, a wild girl."

"Back o-off, I-I know h-how to kill." I warn. Jillia always warned me that all life is precious, and we don't kill unless they threaten to kill us.

"Wild? I can turn her into domestic if-" Carl cuffed Patrick's ear before he could finish his sentence.

"What's your name?" He asks me. I don't answer at first, my bare feet hurt and I just felt like walking into the woods and forgetting about my meeting with the two survivors.

"She's Italiana, Carl. That's fucking hot. She can't speak all English." Patrick wheezed, gripping his ear. He's such a big wuss. My cheeks tint red as I slam my spear down into the earth, causing the ground to crack.

"Fuck off! I-I can speak English, you prick!" I scream. Carl steps out of the way, smirking as I pushed Patrick off his feet. I can almost hear Jillia's taunting words, that all life was precious and meant to be treated well.

Well, let me tell you something, Jill. Patrick is no where near precious. I think we can live without one less douche bag on our shit hole earth.

"You just let her beat me up?!" Patrick protested.

"You were being an asshole, man." Carl shrugged.

I start walking the other way, ripping my spear out of the ground. My feet were aching. My feet were always bare, or wearing sandals. Either way, they make my feet feel like a living hell.

"Where do you think your going?" A taunting voice asked, gripping my shoulder and pulling me back. I wince, and land on my butt. Carl squatted in front of me, skimming his fingers over the rim of his sheriffs hat. "Listen, Ms.Italiana-"

"My name is Aria." I correct, a glow making its way onto my cheeks.

"Okay, Aria." Carl agrees. "My friend Patrick is kind of a dick-"

"Kind of?" I question, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, all the time." Carl corrects himself, clasping his hands together. "We think it'd be best if you came with us."

"Haha, not we, bro." Patrick fakes a laugh, turning deadpanned. "No go, bro. No go."

"We have a group near shore, supplies, food, and shelter." Carl explained.

"Yeah, like I-I haven't h-heard that one be-before. I'm not stupid." I say.

"No, your not." He says, standing up. "Your red."
.............

Yay or nay?