Unbroken

Chapter 2

I walk down one of the many abandoned streets in the outer city. Wind whips at me in the cold night. My black hoodie blocks most of it but my face is uncovered leaving me with slight chills. As I walk, I look at all of the old fallen shops and homes around me. When I see them crumbled to the ground I cant help but wonder, what is it like in the society? Do any of there streets look like this? Probably not. As I think about it anger starts to bubble up within me. I feel my face turn red and my fists clench to the point were my nails nearly draw blood from my palms. I walk like this for a while, angry at the society, that's nothing new. But then I calm myself down. What good will it do to get angry? None.

I keep walking and I realize it has gotten very late. The moon is full and up high in the sky. The rebels will be coming out soon. The rebels are the people who fight agents the society. They have troops. But no number of them will ever be able to stand a chance against the society. They know that but they have hope. Something that I long for.

I start to walk faster as I see people come out of the shadows and walk to the square, if you can even call it that. Our square is a little peace of civilization left over from the war. It's just a completely broken down fountain, eerie shops, and the homes that used to be here. Now we just use it as a gathering place. Even for the rebels. They look at me with fire in there eyes but just walk past me. I know I shouldn't be out this late. But I don't want to face what state my home is in. My father, the rage filled drug addict, never comes out of his room. I have to bring his food to him. I hate that I have to live with that man, if you can even call him that. I would run away if I could but I would have nowhere to go. Yes, our house may be very small and falling apart at the seams, but it's the closest thing to a 'home' on our block.

One of the rebels, who looks to be a boy about my age bumps into me and I fall to my knees. I scrape my hands and they start to sting. Little drops of blood spring to slight wounds in my palms. "Watch where your going b*tch." He says. If he wasn't a foot taller than me, extremely toned, and a rebel, I would have spat some sort of insult back and maybe even hit him. But I cant unless I want to be beaten to death. I get up quickly and run off in the opposite direction, which just so happens to be the way to my house.

As I walk through the hole in the wall, our door, the smell of alcohol overwhelms me. I pinch my nose to block it out, but its so strong that I can taste it in my mouth. I gage and walk two feet to the other door that leads to a hall that is my room. I can hear loud bangs coming from the room next to mine. Will he ever just shut up? There wasn't enough money to buy food today and I didn't have time to go hunting. I pull off my hoodie reveling my gray t-shirt. I slip out of my torn up jeans and grab my blanket. I slide into my sleeping bag and bring my blanket up over my head so that my breath can warm me up. As I close my eyes I think of the rebels. How they have hope. I think of the society, how they have riches. And I think of my stomach that wont stop making inhuman noises. Then I slowly fall into a restless sleep.