Verman

11. Luna

July 30, 2055

The next day, the clouds covered the sky, not letting even a ray of sunshine penetrate their wall. The Wall. I sat upright, remembering Jeremy. Remembering our meeting place.

I got out of bed, shoved half an apple into my mouth and started off to our meeting place. I was so happy I almost forgot about my leg. The bandage had torn open, but luckily my wound wasn't bleeding or oozing pus all over the place. I walked back to my bed and pulled out the medical supplies Jeremy had given me the day before. I tore off the remaining bandage and put a fresh one on. I tucked my medical supplies under my bed in a small hole I'd made for storing things in.

Straightening, I walked over to our meeting place and looked up at the gloomy sky. It was almost all the same shade of gray, the clouds hanging solemnly, looking toward the ground.

I kicked a small pebble at my feet, feeling anxious for Jeremy to come.

As the time slowly ticked by, I slumped to the ground, my energy and hope almost entirely gone. But I wanted to be here when he came and so I stayed put.

Soon, I felt my stomach growl and a twinge of doubt crept into me. Maybe he's not coming after all.

A drop of water hit my shoulder and I decided it was time to get back to my bed. I trudged back, sad that he'd left me and angry at myself for believing his lies. I kicked a brick in frustration and felt my foot sting.

I slumped over on my bed and crawled to a small alcove, tears welling in my eyes. How could I have been so stupid to trust a soldier? A single tear fell down my cheek, but I quickly wiped it away. How could I be crying at a moment like this? This is nothing, I reassured myself. You've had worse than this and handled it better.

I thought back to the time I ate all of my food supply so I could be satisfied and not go to bed with an empty stomach again. But the next day was dry and hot and finding food was a challenge. Even in the cool woods near the cornfields, there was nothing to find. I'd gone three days without food and was almost about to give up when I saw it. A rose was growing in between one of the cracked pieces of cement near my bed. That one rose gave me hope, for if that one flower could survive, so could I. I ate the petals of the rose, famished. Then, I had picked myself up and half walked, half crawled around The Outskirts, looking for food. At the end of the day, I'd come back with a clump of grass and dirt in my stomach and a hopeful heart. That week was hard, the heat stroke continuing. But I survived. With the bare minimum, I survived.

I turned over, smiling at the memory. I can survive. I've survived worse. The rain started pouring down harder as I turned back into my alcove, burying my head in my torn, thin, bug-infested blanket. And I realized, this is my home. Abandonment, The Outskirts, this is my home.