Alright, clearly this is a very bad situation; just sit still.
Oh my god... a random guy is pointing a gun at my head! What the hell do I do? Crap... crap, crap, major bloody crap!
"Stand." The man ordered roughly, his voice bitterly unforgiving. I gulped silently, attempting to get rid of the thick knot at the back of my throat, and from my crouched position, I rise to my feet hesitantly. The man is not a man, but merely a teenage boy around the same age as me. He has chocolate brown eyes that are clearly beautiful, but masked with a look of fury as he glares. He looks rough and dirty; his clothes are ripped from every angle, shredded in most parts and clean cut in others, and dirt is smeared across his tanned skin.
"Look... I'm not here to hurt anyone." I explain, "I'm only trying to find somewhere safe for my little brother." I glance down at the child who has his arms wrapped around my legs. His facial features are contorted with fear as he stares up at the boy in bewilderment. The boy looks down too and seems to understand, so he nods ever so slightly and steps back, allowing us into his unmarked haven.
"Go ahead." He says tightly and refuses to make eye contact with me. I do as he says and usher Connor in as quickly as I can; I feel bare and defenceless out in the open, so I know the faster we get behind a wall the better. The house looks as normal inside as it does outside; everything seems in its rightful place and there is not a broken object to be seen, but there is a sense of tension in the air that keeps me on edge. I take Connor into what I can only describe as the "Sitting Room", but what I find in there is not what I expect.
There is a group of injured humans in the cramped room.
The group stop what they are doing and stare up at me, some with frightened faces, others with looks of surprise. There are children as young as Connor and elderly older than my Grandmother, but they all share something in common; they survived.
"Where did you come from?" A middle-aged woman stands up from the chaos and eyes me up and down suspiciously. She looks flustered and dirty like the unknown boy, but as far as I can tell, she has not been harmed.
"We live just down the street..." I muttered weakly. In spite of everything that has happened, I feel stupid in front of all these people. "We were walking down the street when-"
"You were walking down the street?" The woman blurts, cutting off my speech. "Honey, you are lucky to be alive right now!" She shakes her head as though she pities me and looks down, smirking lightly.
"I didn't know what else to do!" I defend myself fiercely, momentarily forgetting that Connor is by my side.
"Its fine, you are safe now. Is there anyone else with you? Family? Friends?" Her tone is no longer judging, but friendly and warm.
I shake my head and frown, diverting my eyes to the muddy floor. The flashbacks flood into my brain so quickly that I have no time to stop it, to ignore the horrible memories; my mother's dead body, my father's dead body... I suddenly feel so alone. "No... My... my parents are dead." I manage to croak out an explanation for my actions, but I refuse to look at anyone, not even Connor.
"Oh, I see..." The woman is sympathetic now, but she does not close the distance between us. "I am very sorry to hear that, but you are not alone; many people have lost family and friends over the past couple of hours." I look up curiously now and see that a lot of people have bowed their heads in respect, remembering their loved ones and how they lost their lives. I feel better then, not better because more people have died, but because I feel like God - or whoever caused this - was not punishing me in particular. I felt a part of something, even though it was a terrible "something" indeed.
