****wrote this one for a creative writing class project, request for continuation if you like it****
Monologue:
I've lost count of how many agonizingly long days have passed within the small period of time the six of us have been ensnared in this maddening metal incarceration. After killing off the other four members of the group the shelter began to reek of decaying carcasses. Their lifeless bodies were left to linger amongst the rest of us because of the risk that we might expose ourselves to the radiation outside if we opened the barricaded doors. Nothing could neither leave nor enter without unlatching the shelter's massively steel entrance.
Sitting in a corner with my legs clung closely to my body, and my knees fused under my chin, I began to slightly rock back and forth as I scanned through my roommates who were trying to get by just as I was in this hellish room. One person who was clearly on the brink of insanity was Mrs.Schultz. No more was her blonde hair clean and neatly pressed as I remembered it on the first day I met her. Now it was dingy and unkempt with small traces of blood clumped together on her split ends. And the whites of her eyes that blended perfectly with her crystalline blue pupils were now blood shot from constantly crying and lack of sleep.
Mrs. Schultz had felt it harder than anyone else in here after witnessing the death of her 14 year old daughter and husband, Dr. Schultz. She occasionally threatened to kill herself...I don't blame her. With no family left on the Earth what is there left to go back to? Everyone else including myself knew that we couldn't afford to lose her just yet though. Without her each one of us was liable to obtain any sickness or ailment on the face of this planet without treatment. She was one of our hopes of survival, who was the only one with any medical experience.
Out of some strange twist of fate, I ended up with my High School's biology teacher, Ms. Wong. If it wasn't for her tender-heartedness and warm love towards Mrs. Schultz, she would have been dead by now.
I to have endured my fair share of deaths in here. Diana Smith was the only one I actually bonded with during my time in the bomb shelter, mainly because we were the same age. I didn't look at her as a friend, just as a temporary one until we got out of that place. Sadly, she didn't make it. Right up front the first thing that came to mine when I met her was chocolate. Her hair was that color.
Diana was the quiet type who tried to avoid confusion from the others just as I was. Her locks always fell messily in front of her face, almost as a blockade from the world around her. I recall asking her about herself. She was a drug addict who was abused frequently by her stepfather. I had assumed that she had taken up cocaine to put up with the beatings. With no drugs to sustain her addiction she frequently overdosed on the emergency aid kit's Tylenol supply, which aggravated everybody.
Often keeping her distance from the males in the room she bound herself in the same corner I am in now. I felt sorry for her, I almost pitied her existence, but she was weak, so she had to go. When it was time for her ticket out of here I couldn't help but think that the limp body opposite Dr.Schultz could have been mine. The thought of death came now and again but I preferred to accompany the other 5 members a little longer.
Don Miller, the strongest one out of the group, left the majority of us with a lot of questions with very little answers. He didn't really give much information about himself except that he was a Black Panther member who spent time dealing drugs and murdering under "false accusation". I wasn't certain if he mentioned this to anybody other than myself, but he informed me that at one time he used to be a star javelin thrower but threw in the towel once he was arrested.
His body type was one of an extremely well-built athletic gorilla. Not only was his appearance intimidating but the pistol that ceaselessly seemed to be securely clinched in his right hand was as well. Miller was indeed a very frightening individual but it appeared to me that I was the only one that he truly trusted. And that was a good thing on my behalf. I pondered at times that maybe it was because I shared his skin color. Don was the reason why Diana Evan's 9 month year old baby laid dead two feet away from me wrapped in a bundle of dried bloody stained blanketing. I could still almost hear his wails of plea before Don pulled the trigger.
With his gun Don killed the other three who aren't here today as well. I wonder if it's too late for me to still join them. Peter Evans, Diana Evans husband despised him with a great passion ever since their son's death. At this very moment I wouldn't doubt that he's plotting against him, trying to find a way that he can make off with Don's precious PT145 pistol.
Peter wasn't the only one with grief in his heart after baby, Roger Evan's death. Mrs. Evans was in distraught about it as well. This kind woman was known to me as the rose in the thorn patch within the group. She constantly tried to find a way to prevent any killing from continuing any longer. Curiosity drew me towards her. She was now 6 months pregnant with her second child soon on the way.
Apparently, she was raised on a farm by the Delta. This was possibly why she was so composed and collected with herself. At times she offered to let me caress my hands over her abnormally large plump stomach. It pained me to think that she might give birth to her newborn in this wretched place.
As for me, I didn't really have much of a past or a future. I was left watching as everyone's animalistic behaviors got the better of them. Deluding myself into believing that someday I'd get out of this place. But was I ready? Like Mrs. Schultz would I too have anyone or anything left to go back to? I didn't know, but I was willing to find out. That was if I could survive by then.
