Way Out Here- Septiplier

"Where are we going, ma?"

Jack

This is war.

It's all I've known for a long time, and, assuming I make it out of this, it'll be the only thing I'll remember. But for now, I'm all alone.

* * *

When I was young, me and my friends, we used to play on the streets. Tag, football, we'd play anything that came to mind- nothing could stop us. We were so carefree, so happy, but then life happened, and our country went to war. My ma ushered me inside one afternoon and frantically rushed about our little house, clawing together as much of our possessions as possible. She stopped dead when the sirens signaled. I'd never seen her so scared, so small in that moment and I had prayed I'd never seen it again. We rushed to the shelters, looking for anywhere to hide or any comforting, familiar faces in the crowd, but there were none. That was the worst night of my life.

It got worse from there. The enemy were relentless and we scurried round our cowering city in caution- the sirens had a tenancy to go off at the worst times and when you least expected it: in the middle of the night, in the middle of the day, breakfast, lunch, dinner. Whatever time, we were all as terrified as the first.

The weeks after the first attack were atrocious. Day after day you would see less and less hope in people's eyes and less and less food in people's hands. The rations had begun, but, with our town in short supply of food beforehand, the city was in turmoil. Lack of food hit us hard and left us defenceless even to the point of theft during attacks. The wealthy of the city lived on the ridge overlooking the sea and was the most targeted area, yet, survival can drive you to the most extreme risks. And that's where my father died.

My family consisted if me, my Ma, my Pa, and my brothers and sisters, although I don't see them much anymore. Most of us moved out, bar me and my sister but from time to time, they would come visit us, if they could.

My Ma was quiet, but caring- if anything hurt us it made us upset, she'd be there in a flash, helping us and standing up for us. She told us a lot about the world and her passion for the subject glistened in her twinkling eyes. Long, chestnut hair adorned from her head and shoulders and her hazel eyes were soft and kind. She held herself in a peaceful and relaxed way and her elegant arms could be seen snaking her arms around you for a sneak hug.

My Pa was a little louder. He, like me, was carefree and loving, the thing that mostly kept the family together. Short, tufty hair sprung from his head as he lifted you up into his strong arms, his deep blue eyes shining with humour. Whenever he came in from work, we'd always hide and he'd have to find us, making silly remarks like 'Ahh! I bet Lilys in the drawer!' or 'Jack is surely under the pillow'.

Lily, my sister was an outrageous prankster. You heard a shocked screech in the middle of the square? It was probably Lily. Having said that, she was the best person to confide in- her gentle turquoise eyes fixed on yours, begging you to tell her and let her help you. When she thinks, she usually pushes her dark auburn hair behind her glasses and scrunches her eyes up in concentration.

I am like my mother: quiet, timid but energetic. I have deep blue eyes like my father and short, messy hair dyed a neon shade of green. I used to spend a lot of my time in the street with my friends or down by the stream. That was my favourite place. It was so relaxing and I loved kicking my feet into the water and watching the ripples dart across the surface.

Here I sit in the train coach, now clutching the hands of my mother as I sit in sombre silence. I look to her, quickly, then dart my attention back to the floor in fear of being seen by her cold, dead eyes. Something had replaced my mother. A monster of fear and isolation had infected her and now she just didn't care. The world had no meaning for her now. I stare intently at the ground, willing my eyes not to water. I couldn't cry here.

"Ma..." I whispered in a shaky voice," w..where are we going...?" My mother's head snapped towards me and I cowered in my seat, unable to make eye contact with her.
"Soon, sweet." She sighed forlornly, and attempted to give me a sweet smile. I smiled back, softly, and leaned my head on her shoulder, wanting to escape this reality.

AN
OK SO THIS IS CHAPTER 1?? I'M SORRY I HAVEN'T BEEN ON RECENTLY, A LOAD OF SHITE HAPPENED AND I DIED, SO....
YE
I'm going to hopefully put this through to #wattys2017 bc why not *^~•○MOTIVATION○•~^*
~Traumatised Human