This war has been going on for five years now, and its not your typical apocalypse story where some disease the government makes breaks free from a containment center and everyone turns into zombies type thing.
No. No one knows where this came from, and humans are still humans, well maybe a little less humane but overall were still normal. We know the government didn't do this because they're all dead.
I was so tired. My eyes couldn't stay open for more than a minute. I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling above me, of my bedroom. Well I guess you'd call it a bedroom. It's the abandoned bedroom of the house I claimed as my own a few weeks ago. The entire home smelled like animals, the farm across the street sent the wonderful scent of horses and pigs wafting over here.
I was slipping into unconsciousness when the sound of the front door opening rang through the house. The hinges squeaked and footsteps clicked on the wood in the parlor. Multiple footsteps. Followed by multiple voices, and finally followed by me springing up from my air mattress on the floor.
Instinctively I found myself grabbing my pistol from under the table next to me and tiptoeing behind the bedroom door. I sucked in my chest and stomach and held my breath. Observe your surroundings- I told myself.
Footsteps... From multiple people, at least three. Voices too, distinctly three voices, all men. I tried to picture where they were in the house, they sounded right below me. The kitchen. But they were getting closer. In fact I could hear them walking up the steps now, loud and laughing. I breathed through my nose even if it was a little shaky, as were my hands. They were walking down the hall now and my hands started sweating but I still held onto the pistol as tightly as I could.
They came closer. I shut my eyes and told myself- Aim for the head.
It was completely dark, thanks to it being 2:18 am but I could still make out the outlines of the men's frames as they piled into the bedroom. The smell of alcohol hit me like a ton of bricks, I held my gun out in front of me, a few inches from one of their backs. They didn't notice me.
"Doesn't look like much in here." someone said in a scruffy voice.
I took one last breath and as my finger started to tighten on the trigger I felt a hand, well a fist, meet my face.
The gun dropped and I stumbled back, hitting the wall behind me. Everyone turned to face me, and before I could fight back my hands were painfully pinned behind me and three men surrounded me. There was a fourth man, even though there were only three voices.
One of the men facing me pulled out a flashlight and shined it in my eyes. He laughed and said "Wow.. Little girl has got nerves." the other men laughed too.
I stayed silent. Another guy stepped forward, by the looks of him he couldn't be much older than myself. He tucked a few strands of hair behind my ears and smiled. I could practically taste the whiskey as he breathed in my face, his grungy and dirt covered hand remained on my cheek.
"Boys why don't you keep lookin through the house and I'll teach this young lady some manners."
Without discussion two of the men started to look around the room, searching in the dresser but disappointed only finding girls clothes. All of my valuables, which weren't many, were never kept in plain sight. And this right here proves why. Many people enjoy looting houses but little do these people know this is just a waste of time because they'd never find anything of mine.
I was dragged down the stairs and out the front door by my wrists, even though I had lived in this small creaky quaint home that wasn't really mine, for three years, as I was being forcefully removed, everything seemed brand new. I noticed things I had never paid attention to before, the family pictures hanging perfectly straight on the walls; the family looked so happy, parents playing with their four children casually in the front yard, that apparently was once filled with bright green grass and lively flowers.
