Abnormalities in a Broken Society

Survival is Key

"Of course." I whispered, my legs wobbling underneath me as I pulled back my hand. My fingers trembled as my palm hovered in front of the handle, the last of my power moving through the lock like wind rustling through trees. My hand suddenly turned and a soft click filled the air. I had barged inside, the sound of the door shutting behind me the last thing I heard as I collapsed onto the floor. 

That was about five days ago, though I couldn't be sure as I had no idea how long I had slept that first night. Since then I had done some remodeling. I had to board up the door again, but seeing as it opened outwards, I only nailed the boards to the door and not the wall around it. That way I could still use it, while others saw it as being shut tight. During the first two days I had refused to go outside unless I had the cover of night, scared of someone noticing me and calling the police, but the more I walked around the more I came to realize no one here cared. The streets were littered with trash, bus stops and benches vandalized beyond recognition. The houses and buildings surrounding the one I had found was in different states of decay and deterioration. A dirty mural of broken windows and peeling paint. These people had bigger issues than a squatter sleeping in an abandoned house, so I became more comfortable with the idea of leaving during the day.

I stretched on the blanket I was generously calling a bed, my aching muscles protesting with the sudden movement. I grabbed for the plastic water bottle close to my head, taking a big, greedy gulp. I had been lucky, it was raining for most of the week and the holes in the ceiling made it easy for me to collect large amounts of rainwater. I had used whatever I could find, empty plastic bottles I had fished out of the trash, a dented, gray bucket I found in the house. When it came to food, however, luck wasn't entirely on my side. As if in agreement my stomach gave an earth shattering growl, signalling it was time to stand up and face the day. 

I grabbed onto the cracked window sill above me to help pull myself up, squinting as I became level with some of the rays of light shining through the cracks between some of the boards. I preferred sleeping under the window, right next to the front door so I was able to hear anybody approaching the house. I stumbled over to what used to be the kitchen, the uneven wooden floorboards turning into faded yellow tiles, signalling a new room. The kitchen had been looted thoroughly, the old cupboard doors hung on their hinges, a large gaping hole stood next to the rust covered fridge, a spot previously occupied by a stove no doubt. I grumpily made my way over to the rusty sink, leaning over to inspect the water inside. I had plugged the drain with the shirt of my old overalls, filling the basin to the brim with rainwater. On my first day of exploring the surrounding neighborhood I had discovered that people would hang their clothes on lines in their open back yards, which were rarely properly protected. I had hated stealing from someone who already had so little, but I needed new clothes, running around with a torn house uniform was a great way of getting discovered. I looked down at the green shirt and baggy jeans, they were a little big, but I wasn't in any position to complain.

Bending down towards the sink I cupped my hands together, gathering water between my palms as I began to wash my face. I rubbed the water into my skin as though I could erase the past few days from it. I loosened the elastic band tied around my unruly knots of hair, dipping the top of my head into the water. I rubbed my scalp, finding some stray twigs I must have missed the previous night. My neck and back ached as I tried to clean my hair, images of a nice, warm shower filled my head. The house had a bathroom upstairs, but it was impossible to get to seeing as the wooden stairs was completely rotten and unable to support my full weight. 

When I was sufficiently satisfied that the knots in my hair were not coming out, I slowly straightened back up. I grabbed the towel next to the sink, another stolen item, and quickly wrapped it around my head. I rubbed the material into my scalp, drying my hair as best I could. When I was done I put the towel back on the dusty counter, ready to leave the house. Stray drops of water ran down my neck, soaking into the worn out material of my shirt. I ignored it as I stepped towards the door next to the kitchen counter, grabbing the old, red backpack propped up against it. I had found the bag in a dumpster on my first search for food. I slowly opened the door, it creaked as more sunlight streamed inside. My eyes watered from the sudden assault of light, but they managed to adjust enough for me to see that no one was around. I silently stepped outside, slinging the backpack onto my back and shutting the door behind me, locking it with a flick of my wrist. The only power I allowed myself to use was my telekinesis, which came in handy when it came to security measures. I only allowed myself to use that type of power, refusing to use it against another human being.