Broken

Faded Scars, Faded Stories

After a few days my body feels as if it grows stronger. With each passing day I feel as if I will survive this world once again. I will say hope is wearing away by the passing days. The more thoughts I have about my life and how I will be living. It scares me.

I still do not know what they feed us, but when Evan comes into the room with food; I devour it. Evan leaves with an empty plate and I lay down on the dirty floor. After a few days of rest I can finally feel my body coming back to me. I wonder, how would it have turned out if I kept going? If I was Savage fighting against the Nomads? What happened to Kyle's brother?

Will I still be able to fight with them? What happened to the others? Were there any injuries? I look down at my hands. Everything I do always ends up wrong. I cannot describe the growing feeling inside of me. Everything feels as if it tumbles and gets rebuilt once again. The Nomads take the pieces and try to recreate the building. To try, they believe is worth their while. Then they realize every time I tumble; I become weaker.

Clayton comes into the room. I get up from the ground and stand as tall as I can. I open my mouth to speak but he shakes his head and comes closer. He puts a hand on my head. We stay like that for a few minutes.

He breaks the noisy silence. "Tori Ana, remember your first fight. It won't be the last. The first is always the beginning to the end. You are bound to fall on your knees once and beg. Beg for your own survival. You are still protected by us. You have no idea what it feels like to break and have no one to pick up the pieces. You have to find them after you finally regain a sense that you are alive.

"You will want to die. Not to protect others but to release you from the pain of living. Only death will release you from every trouble you have. Although it will also release you from survival. The ability to say, 'I survived this cruel miserable world without the reassurance of the others. I fought to live as long as I did. I lived through the hunger, the pain, and the struggles.'

"The scars that have formed and faded; show my story. They become nothing more than a story. A story that I created myself," Clayton says.

I look at him. He removes the hand from my head and sighs. "You know tomorrow is the next hunt. You are now in well enough shape to be able to protect yourself again. Three warriors died in the last hunt so we need you."

I turn away from him and I hear the door close.

I had a lot to do during the weekend. Well it is here now.