Crumble. That's the only word I heard as laid my head down to rest for the night. As I pulled the shredded rags of a cover over my body, I adjusted the rock into a more comfortable position. Staring up at the ceiling, my eyes traced its outline, ending at the portion that is currently crumbling. Crumble. That's the only sound I hear.
Sighing, I sit up. It's been three years since I was abandoned. Three whole years of running, stealing, and chaos. Who abandons a five year old? Who leaves their son in a world where it's killed or be killed? Three whole years of abandonment. The grumbling in my stomach proves it.
As I stood and walked to the edge of the building where part of the building was bombed, I look out into the world. Trees now inhabit the city, and it makes me wonder how life was back then. Did people actually inhabit this whole city? There must've been a lot of people, especially if they built a giant red bridge across the bay. I don't remember the name, but part of it was Sisco, which also was a mutt I used to hang with.
Down by the bridge, less than thirty homes were lit by fire. Oh how I would love to be down there, enjoying my time with my family. Oh how I would love to be able to go out and pick around for stuff I wanted, and not have to worry about food. Oh how I would love to be able to not be able to tell which houses to break in, and which to avoid. Those kids have it easy. They don't have to use a torn and shredded cover. They don't have to have a rock as a pillow. They don't have constant hunger pains. Another sound. This time a growl. From my stomach. I groaned once more, before sitting down on the ledge. My feet dangled off the side, and I couldn't help but imagine myself down there. With parents. Maybe a brother or sister.
Shaking my head, I turned and picked up my pistol. This is all I need. With this, I can feed myself, I can defend myself, and I can take care of myself. Why would I need parents and siblings and friends if I could take care of myself? What's the point of it all? Before I knew it, I had tears running down my eyes. I threw the gun across the room, watching it collide with the wall. I fell down upon my knees, before I fell backwards, pulling my knees up to my chest. I don't need the ragged covers or rock; I don't need friends; I don't need a family. All I need is myself.
Or, that's what I kept telling myself as I cried myself asleep another night.
((Well hello there! This is a story I came up with, and currently working on. I'll try to type at least 500-1,000 words a day, so please be patient with me. Any thing to note or ideas? Email me at jonathanmgalloway@gmail.com))
