Éktos. Flamouriá.
Plop. Plop, plop.
My stomach dropped as I awoke.
I was already gasping for breath before I knew it.
"Again?"
Recurring nightmares of my, and my peers' deaths.
It had only gotten more brutal and more detailed since the first time.
I looked through the darkness of the shelter, letting the few candles set up guide my eyes. Everyone's asleep, it seemed. I looked at the other two next, seeing them asleep, though I couldn't say they looked to be that comfortable.
A grunt escaped my lips as I felt the exhaustion hit me. I stood, still, cracking my joints before getting some energy bars in my bag.
The shelter was deadly silent as the only sound that could be heard were my light footsteps and the rustling of my clothes.
Tap.
I stopped and cocked my head to where the sound came from. Though I didn't catch anything, I already felt something off in the air.
I ignored the nagging feeling, it could be that I was just going insane, after all. I brushed my chipping sanity away, going to the restroom instead.
It looked exactly like how you would expect a restroom in an apocalypse to look. The whole room was a disaster.
I guess I couldn't complain though, a lot of us, perhaps even almost all, wouldn't have the drive to be responsible at times like this.
The sink creaked open and the water freely ran through my hands. I washed off my face as I looked in the mirror, now only realizing how dark it was.
"Wasn't the light fixed here?"
I paused, hearing something like an echo.
The mirror had cracks and didn't look the cleanest, still, I could see clearly.
I sucked in a huge breath seeing my reflection.
Looks like I aged 3 years with my look.
Although tired, I mustered up some will of mine to shatter the mirror glass—only then did I truly wake up.
