Broken Emotions

Controlled Emotions

Emotions are what make a diffeence between a man and a machine. They are what make us human. It's what compels our mind to make a different decisions, but they are the human flaw. If emotions can't be controlled something could go seriously wrong. If you don't show emotion, no one gets hurt. At least thats what I have learned in the 18 years I have lived.

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I walked into the old, rundown theater. The sound of glass breaking crunched beneath my foot and echoed down the corridor. The movie posters on the walls were smeared with dirt and curled up around the edges. My hands slid across the concessions counter and traced over the letters engraved into it. Oldham. I stood there remembering all The sound of the cracking glass continued as I started to go up the velvet covered stairs, and entered the screening room. A molding leather swivel chair sat in the corner of the room behind a desk piled with old computer parts and film rolls. I tossed my bag on the cot across the room, and sat on the leather chair, rolling it closer to the desk.

Nobody ever comes to this place; actually, nobody ever really goes anywhere anymore ever since the war moved from Iraq to the United States. Americans, with their cushy lives, were never prepared for the attack, and you can probably guess what happened next. The country and its people both fell to ruin.

Some manage to get by doing odd jobs, but others aren't as lucky. They are what we call wasters, people who give up the will to survive, leaving behind children and families who love them.

I drew my thoughts back from thinking about the affairs of the outside world. I've been told countless times to never feel emotion. This is a war zone; we have no time to think about others, only to survive until the next day.

My ears perked up at the sound of crunching glass. I dove to the cot and unzipped the backpack. My hands brushed up against a cold piece of metal and quickly wrapped around it. Standing behind the door, I waited for the sounds of footsteps coming closer. Judging by the uneven shuffling of their feet, this person was either injured or carrying something big. . The footsteps came closer and closer until they were only a few steps away from the screening room. Each step was directed towards the room. Every glass piece sliding sent chills up my spine. The cracking stopped and the door knob turned slowly. I gripped the piece of metal harder. The door opened with a loud creak, and a dark hooded figure came into the room carrying large sacks.

I brought up my foot and launched it into the person's back. The person fell to the floor with a loud thud, and I sat on their back placing the sharp piece of metal underneath their chin. "Anything I can help you with?" I asked sarcastically.

"It's me, you turd!" the man said as he pulled down his hood. A man in his early twenties appeared behind the thick piece of cloth.

"Caleb,"I sighed."Don't sneak up on me like that. I could've killed you."

"Oh spare me, Anthony," he slid his hand through his dark, wavy hair," if I wanted to be killed I'd climb up your ego and jump down to your I.Q. point."

"Nice to see you, too. What took you so long?"

"You won't believe how hard it is trying to find someone that never stays in one place." He threw himself on the cott."I had to check out six of your regular hang outs before I came here. How long do you plan on staying here?"

"I dunno, a week or two maybe? Did you bring the stuff?"

Caleb smiled at me, grabbed a sack, and then emptied the contents. Bread, water, and computer parts rained down from the bag. He stood above the pile with a smug face. "Told ya I'd handle didn't I? Look, I even got a couple of chocolate bars." He opened up another bag and handed me a melted Hersey bar. "There was a whole box, but I got hungry."

"And the meds?" I asked. "Did you remember that?"

"Ah, yeah, I should've given you that first." He rummaged around in a few sacks and brought out two giant aspirin bottles. "Are the headaches getting better?" I shook my head.

Ever since I was little I have had migraine attacks. Doctors can't figure out a way to take away the pain since they couldn't pin point the reason for them. Thus, I still have the splitting headaches.

"They keep getting worse," I said. Caleb looked at me with a worried expression. "Its fine, its not going to be like last time." He started to relax a little but not back to his cool composure.

He still feels guilty for not being with me when I had a migraine that was so painful I passed out for three days.I didn't remember anything that happened that week and I keep on feeling that Caleb knows more than what he told me. 

"It's getting pretty cold in the theater,"said Caleb tossing himself on the cot again. 

"Yeah, I guess so," I said while downing a few aspirins. A wad of cloth flew at my head. I picked up a dark blue hoodie from the ground. Caleb rolled over facing the wall.

"The last thing I need is for you to get sick," Caleb said his voice muffled. "I here drifters are coming towards this area soon so we need to leave soon. A cold will only delay us." I chuckled under my breath. He may sound all tough but he is really a guy sensitive towards others.

         I sat back down in the old leather chair and fiddled with old computer parts until I fell asleep.

I woke up to my head pounding and a note taped to my face. Sleepily I peeled the paper from my face.

                     Hey gotta go to work. If I'm not back by dinnerish 

                     please move to your next hide out. The drifters this

                      time around are a little tougher. Don't forget to 

                      take the meds. 

                      See ya soon! 

                            -C

                p.s. Don't go outside when the drift starts.

    

    I let out a sigh as I opened up a bottle of aspirin and popped a few in my mouth. Caleb is really stupid if he thinks I would go out durring a drift. Like I would want to die.  Drifts are like a sporting event and how many people get their money now. It's like a death match for only the rich people to enjoy. The prize for each match won is a boatload of cash depending on how entertaining it was. The only rules are: No guns, No explosives, and A spectator must attend the event for it to be valid.

        I never understood why these events are so popular, but it seems the rich just really enjoy watching blood spew out everywhere. Ignoring that nagging sensation in my mind telling me to go back to sleep, I got up and out of "bed". The old leather chair greeted me with open arm rests as I sat down to continue with my work. 

        You could say that I was an inventor of sorts. I come up with the most random yet useful technology you could think of. I love tinkering with  techy stuff. Caleb and anyone who has ever known me has given me the tittle of nerd or geek. But they just don't get the feeling of creating something yourself. That's one of the greatest feeling in the world. 

        Chewing on a piece of bread, I worked on my blueprints for a wristwatch modification that I had been working on for several days now. The measurements for the new microchip were a little off. As I tweaked a few details, a siren blared out with an ear piercing noise. The sound got my quieting headache rise up to a throbbing pain. It was the usual signal for the drift to start. 

        I got up out of my chair and opened the door. If you're not a spectator in a drift then you could be harmed so you must always check to see if your surroundings are safe. My steps were light an barely detectable except for the occasional glass piece cracking. When I finally got to a window I couldn't believe what I was seeing.