It shouldn't be pleasant outside. It shouldn't be warm , the sun shouldn't be out, there shouldn't be just small enough a breeze to emphasize it. I shouldn't like the feeling of the sun's rays hitting my skin. It should be cold and damp. The air should be thick and musty, and it should coat my body in an unpleasant second skin. At the very least it should be so bright that the sun hurts my eyes. Not this reflection of an unrealistic world where everyone's happy and safe, and a thing such as murder doesn't exist. I think this as I walk with painfully raw feet down the sidewalk in a slightly familiar shopping center.
Every step hurts. It's not only my feet, which are definitely feeling the wrath of unkept roads, my entire body aches. The last time I exercised had to be last year, when I was still attending public school, although I'm regretting my lack of motivation in that certain area.
My parents used to take me here when I was little because it was relatively quiet and definitely less crowded than the busier and more mainstream districts. Every thought of them makes me want to curl into a little ball and stay like that until my bones have decayed enough for the wind to scatter them.
I've past several stores that could be useful, and I see several more in the distance, but I'm gonna walk past them too. I should be collecting things, a variety of assortments that could help me survive, instead I'm just walking. I'm feeling the pain I get with each fall and rise of my foot, wondering how far I'll go before I keel over. My parents wanted me to live, but I don't know how much life is in me.
***
The rain sounds like a machine gun pounding down on the pavement in front of me. It's falling hard, the large drops are massaging my back before exploding and drenching my pajamas as I sit on the curb. I'm soaked to the bone, this morning could've passed as a spring day, but it's been chilled and turned into an autumn storm by thick clouds and something a bit stronger than a breeze. It's kind of hard not to think of it as metaphor for life. It's still not cold outside, but the wet and wind combined are making me shiver. I need to get inside and find a change of clothes if I don't want to get sick.
I sit outside a little longer.
***
I walk under the protection a department store pavilion as I head towards the door. I wonder if I'm going to be able to get inside, but as I get closer I see the door ajar and blowing slightly from the wind. The lock's broken, I think as I get close enough to examine it. Whoever broke in probably isn't still in the store itself considering I haven't seen anyone all day and there are better places to spend the night, but they could definitely be in the area. I freeze with my fingers brushing the handle, contemplating what to do. I could stay in the furniture store, or rather wait for someone to find me, because that's what it'd really be. Or I could move on, but I have no clue where I would go, nowhere is unaffected, and even if there was they probably wouldn't take anyone. The people who broke in here could be good people, or not... Then I realize it doesn't really matter, everyone's dangerous and I doubt anyone has full control of their power. Maybe nobody's here and the lock's been broken for a while. I don't know what I'll do, but I do know I need to change my clothes. So, taking a deep breath and letting it out, I grab the handle and open the door.
Inside the lights are off, it's still bright enough for me to see, but the clouds outside aren't helping my case. I go around the store once seeing what there is. I'm not doing that for preference, I'm doing it for technical reasons, I need what I pick to be good for all weather I might encounter. I don't if it's a good thing that my mind fits into this new world where you have to think to survive. I guess this type of thinking distracts me from another way, which I always did too much of. You knew exactly what to do back at the house...
"Margie run! GO!" My mother shouts this as a woman runs up the steps to the attic. They're narrow, but I can fit. I pause for a second, waiting for the right moment, causing my mother to shout, "Go Margret, go now!" One more second... Now! She slams her foot down onto the bad step. It's slightly higher than the others, she doesn't trip, but her foot is on the edge. I run by her full force, slamming into her shoulder. My mother screams, she falls and tries to bring me down with her, but I grab the rail stumbling a few steps while she falls the rest of the way down. I don't remember when her body left the steep pull out attic stairs, but it does and she lands on the floor below, motionless-537Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡntVpBP58nn
"Stop." I say out loud, trying to snap my mind back from the painful memories of the other night. It's only been two days, but it feels like an eternity passed that day of sitting in the broken furniture store, only venturing out to get enough food for a meal.
I'm back at the front of the store, making my way to the jeans. I've been shopping here before and I know which ones to get. I'm lucky, most of the people that have been in here were guys, because there's still a decent amount of clothes left for me. I grab a pair that I have at home, they were my favorite. Soft on the inside, but rough and hard to rip outside. I run my hand on the fabric seeking some familiarity, then regretting it because nothing else is the same, and it never will be. I feel tears threatening my momentary composure and I have a sudden stabbing sensation in my heart as I wish for my parents. I gasp shakily and then set my mouth in a steel line. Just focus on the next step. I set the pants down in a heap on top of the other jeans and strip my oversized yoga pants off. Grabbing a nearby sweater, I dry my legs off, and then use it to dry my hair enough not to drip. I pick up the pants and put them on my slightly damp, goosebumped legs. I look down at the yoga pants wondering what to do with them, eventually settling on hanging them on an outstretched mannequin arm.537Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVznSe7SiWM
I decide layers are my best option, so I search around for a tank top. I let my thoughts wonder momentarily, but I have to pull myself back to ward away a panic attack. If there wasn't enough things to freak out about before there definitely are now. I wonder again how the universe mustered up the irony to have me survive in the apocalypse, I barely survived a world with a semblance of structured society.
The tank top I find is white and spaghetti strapped, I grab it and go to the undergarment section to find a sports bra and a few pairs of underwear. The fact that this I'm not paying doesn't bother me, I doubt anyone who works here is coming back. I don't even know what I'd pay with, when it comes down to it, all of the systems we made were just coping mechanisms for the mess the human race was. Now that everything's fallen apart you can see that the things we thought mattered, like money, are just little pieces of paper, that's not what we hold onto in the end.537Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdHaJmqnHik
After throwing those on, I look for something to wear over everything, preferably something button up, but also hardy, I need something that will last. Flannel will do the job, but there's not much in the store's selection for women. I wander over to the mens department, I always liked men's flannel better anyway. I find a thick one with several shades of green and some white to put on, then I get a zip up hoody with the stores logo.
I look at myself standing in front of a mirror at the back of the store. I'm bony from not eating enough on a regular basis, but I have a broad shoulders and hips, as well as a decent sized bust that comes to haunt me when I go bra shopping. Used to go. I run my fingers through what little hair I have, it's very convenient for the end of the world. Even though the long, rich brown bangs hanging in front of my left eye might get in the way, it's much easier than long hair. I stare into my murky hazel eyes, and give myself a once over. I've had people say I'm pretty, I guess I can see it, I'm not ugly at least. I'm not classic, my lips are small, and my nose is a little long and angular, my cheekbones could look pretty good with some makeup maybe, but I never wear any, and my jaw is a little "too" pronounced for me to be a classic pretty. To be honest I don't really care, I've never wanted to be classic.537Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡp0HT2DLekg
***
The rain has stopped by now and as I'm walking back to the furniture store, now in sneakers, the immensity of my promise sets in and I make a choice. I'm not going to let my parents die in vain, I-537Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvrAfFgSYpc
I stop in my tracks. I feel someone. Someone's close. I wasn't paying attention, I was too lost in my thoughts. I feel my mind racing, on high alert. I try and keep walking, only I can't. My breath quickens. I can't move my body. I hear door chimes ring and someone I can't see steps out of the shop. My mind is screaming at my legs to run as fast as they can, but I can't, they won't move. I can't even swivel my head when a rough hand slides on my shoulder.
"Shhhhhhhhhhh..."
I feel the man raise some weapon in his hand. And the last thought that goes through my mind before the world goes black. I promised...
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