The past is the future

Chapter 1

"First day huh? How's it going?"

I looked up to see Aaron with a tray of lunch in his hands. I put down my turkey sandwich, "it's been ok, the training has been hurting my shoulder, but I'll be ok".

Aaron sat down "Son, I'm not talking about that, do you have a family?"

"Well, my parents. But, we probably aren't on good terms. They aren't so happy that I left on my 18th birthday".

"They will understand, just give them a bit. They are just worried about you. Hell, the amount of us that die a day, it really makes you wonder if you will be next. Ive been in this army for 10 years, damn, everyday I've watched friends die. You will learn to remember everyone as a number".

I was woken up by sirens in the distance. I woke up with a sense of amnesia. I looked around and noticed that I fell asleep in my old, worthless truck again. I tried to reposition myself  in the uncomfortable leather seat, which had patches of leather pealing off. I still felt tired, although not knowing how long I had been out. I checked my phone before realizing that no one would be calling or texting me.

I returned to my old, broken down condo in a neighborhood that others would call "the bad side of town". What could I say? I was the one who thought that buying a house online for $500.00 would be a great idea. Honestly, I'm surprised that I haven't been shot, robbed, or just plainly attacked.The constant smell of pollution, makes it difficult to breathe. It constantly smells of smoke outside and inside, although I haven't smoke in years, and certainly never here. I always see homeless kids riding their bikes down the road, looking for food left in bags along the street. There were times that I tried to talk to them. The kids were like birds, when you go by the them, they flock away. But, there were no chirping birds, only the sound of spinning tires and gunshots.

The door squeaked when I opened it. Like I always do, I make another mental note reminding myself to fix it, although knowing that I never will. The floor being rusted and covered with dirt, I left my shoes on, even though my brown shoes was as dirty as the floors. I saw the grey walls with cracks in it, in desperate need of being repainted, another mental note. I sat down on the light blue couch, that looks out of place compared to everything else. I read somewhere that having a spice of color in the room helps spark positivity yet, I still feel the same amount of annoyance each day when I see it. Which, isn't the worst thing in the house. The ceiling looked as if it was about to come crumbling down. If you took a broom and lightly touched one of the lights, it would flicker for the rest of it lifetime. I had the money to fix it, but just getting the time is more expensive. I always thought that I would be a millionaire by now. When I was a child, I always thought "wow, when I'm older, I'm gonna have a maid, a butler, and one of those annoying, tiny dogs that rich people have". I was so innocent back then.

I turned on the 35-inch television. "..No one has came to shed light on the accident. In other news, A murder in our own town of Sunlomn." The blond haired news reporter talked into the black microphone. "Logan Accops, a 9th grade aspiring athlete, was shot today following an argument. Sources say that the suspect was the one wh-" I turned the television off. Whats the point of hearing the same news stories every day? Everyone just sits at home after a long day at work and just hears the same things everyday; murder, robbery, crash, and the occasional "boy with cancer gets his life wish" to just make everyone gain a tiny spot of faith in humanity. I glanced at darken, glass broken clock beside the couch. It read "12:14 am". Usually, I go to bed by at least 4:00 am. I mean, I don't have a job or anything, so why would I go to sleep at normal times?it doesn't effect me.

I bended down by the couch. I pulled out a rusted box with logos that are peeling off. I don't remember putting those fast food and apple stickers on there. I sat the box down on the brown, wooden coffee table In front of me. As I opened the box, the slight sound of the box squeaking filled the small space. I winched at the sound, although it wasn't that loud.