The Survivors Trilogy

BOOK ONE || CHAPTER NINE

My mind races, and my side throbs the faster I run.

The rubble on the ground crunches and crumbles under the weight of my boots as I push hard against the ground, trying to get as far away from everything as quickly as possible. The wind whips against my face and I desperately try to wipe away the sand still in the air, still filling my eyes, my mouth, my lungs.

I don't even know where I am going. I don't even know where I am; my mind can't process the things around me. Everything feels and looks like a blur—a smear of light that seems to be one color. I don't know how long it takes me to realize that it's my tears, burning the back of my eyes.

The sun has fully set now, making the buildings in the Estate darker, almost scarier, like they could just swallow me up and I'll never be seen again. The stars and the crescent moon provide the only light for me to orient myself around. The hard rubble becomes tightly compacted together on the streets, making it harder to step around easily; making it harder for me not to trip and fall over.

I slow down to a jog, then a fast walk, then I stop, hunched over, sweat dripping from my forehead, my chest rising and falling.

The tears in my eyes blur my vision, and I blink several times to remove the sting, the blur of color, the small particles that I can't seem to name.

I don't remember screaming. I don't remember hearing anything but the slight vibration tearing at my throat. Then the next thing I felt was a ripping in my vocal cords, cutting straight down my chest. I can't seem to focus on one sound; not even the wind as it brushes around me, moving my hair and clothes in every direction.

The pain in my side doesn't subside, doesn't make this any better. I can feel the throb of my heartbeat right where Joel punched me, over and over again. I slowly lift up my shirt, and my own assumptions are correct; a big blue and purple bruise has formed. My scar rests right in the center of the ugly mark. The bruise looks obvious in contrast to my olive skin; it's like looking at a black object in the middle of a white background; you can spot it from miles away.

I gingerly lower my shirt, resting it softly over the bruise. The material rests against the mark on my back, and I wince, trying to ease the pain. I slowly reach back, pressing my index finger against the mark. A small amount of fresh blood comes off on my finger, but the rest of it feels dried, keeping my wound together.

I walk over to the closest building, sliding down the nearest wall, being careful with my back. The rubble on the ground dig into my legs as I sit on the hard floor, but I don't care about the pain. I try to calm my racing heart as I rest my back against the wall, slowly leaning my head back against it. 

I look up at the stars in the night sky and think about one thing, and one thing only.

Will I be punished for what I did to Joel?

* * * * *

The wind brushing against my face is surprisingly cold. The wind is never cold; it always blows hot air around the buildings, and it always leaves me sweating buckets.

I tug my worn jacket tighter around my shoulder, cursing when it rips at the seam on my back.

"Great," I hiss through gritted teeth. I pull the ripped jacket off my shoulders, tossing it away, out of my line of sight.

Why does everything bad have to happen to me? Why me?

I pull my knees close to my chest, wrapping my shaking arms around them, hissing when my elbow brushes against my bruise.

I wish I never left Vicky. She must be worried sick. I almost feel like I want to get back up and go home, but then I remember Joel, and I stay in place, pulling my legs closer to my chest.