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Ugh, why did I even rescue this guy? They're so annoying and whiny and-- well, I do suppose one might be cranky after losing a leg--which isn't my problem, really--and being chained up--which...I suppose is my fault, but how would I know if they're safe?? They might've killed me or taken my shit once they woke up. It was the responsible thing to do in this situation.
I close and latch the trapdoor, not willing to trust that just those rusty shackles will keep this guy down there. I release an exhausted sigh, looking around my home. Well, home is a...bit of a stretch. This place is far from a real home, but if you're stuck on this god-forsaken planet, this is good enough. Besides, I've grown to like this place. It's kept me safe from a lot of danger, and that's enough for me to call it my home.
It's just a small two-floored concrete bunker, with a heavy steel door separating me from the toxic outdoors and the blood-thirsty inhabitants of this place. I've managed to find a worn, green carpet, a folding table with any supplies I manage to scavenge while the storm is calm, an old, probably antique, wooden chair, and a hammock that I strung on two hooks on opposite corners of the bunker. It's all illuminated by a lightbulb which gets power from solar panels that were installed a long time ago. It's honestly a wonder that they still work. Sure, it goes out sometimes when the sun's rays aren't able to penetrate the storm enough, but I'm just glad that it works most of the time.
The table also is currently holding my food and drinks, which normally would be in the lower floor, but I had moved them up here because there's no way in hell I'd leave them down there with this complete stranger. Supplies are scarce enough as it is, so it'd be devistating if this guy downed more food than what I already gave them, which by itself was pretty damn generous of me. They should be grateful.
I prop my sledgehammer against a corner of the room and take off my shoes, stockings, and hoodie, folding them and laying them down on the table. I don't currently own a shirt or a bra, so all I'm left in is just my underwear. For the first time in a while, I feel self-conscious about me just being in my undergarments. It's probably because of that little perv I've got locked up down my cellar. I save them, bandage them, and bring them to a place that's safe for them, and the first thing they do when they see their savior is...check them out. Man, that's just disgusting.
Even though my brain's telling me that this guy will be nothing but trouble, my heart can't help but feel a tinge of pity for him. I mean, in one day they were--I assume--being transported to their demise, experienced a near-fatal accident, lost one of their legs, and is now stranded in this hell. They're probably terrified right now. Maybe...I was a little too harsh on them back then. No, it's necessary to be this harsh when you're literally in a living hell. If you appear weak or soft, people will take advantage of you and will most likely sentence you to an early fate. It's kill or be killed, survival of the fittest, or however you want to put it.
I snap out of my trance and look at my holographic watch, which I designed myself. I modified a digital watch and inserted a hologram projector, as well as a sort of weather radar thingamabob I found, which now makes up this sick as hell watch that tells me the time, as well as where the toxic storm is, and when I inserted the coordinates of my bunker it also alerts me for when I should return back home to avoid being swallowed by the storm, and it all is projected like a TV screen from my wrist. Pretty sick, huh? I'm pretty proud of it, and I should be.
Anyway, according to my watch it's rather late and that I should be going to bed. I stretch and release a huge yawn, suddenly realizing just how fatigued my body was. I am a rather small person, so it was pretty damn difficult to drag that stranger to my bunker. My body ached all over, my muscles begging for rest. I yawned once more, smacking my lips, and climbed into my hammock. I pulled the string to the light, the lightbulb turning off with a satisfying click. After not very much time, my eyes close and I fall asleep.
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