It's all gone. All the walls, all the floors, all the cabinets my home is gone. It's been two weeks of me hiding in my 10 year old- dad made tree house. I blinked at the now rising sun that shone through the stained glass window hitting my eyes, waking me up my head was slammed back into reality. My water is gone and so is everyone I know. I've been crying non stop and holding onto my small sharp and black trench knife- the one I used to use for cutting those small biscuits hard biscuits my father would make. I haven't seen any of them here yet, I have heard them late at night. My water source was getting extremely low and I havent had any food for the past three days. It was time to go searching. I was scared as hell what if I run into one of them. I shook my head I will only look into a few houses right by me. I looked at my now ruined house I already took everything I needed. I looked down at my hands that were covered in dry blood I smelled like sweat and soot. My long dyed black-blue hair was up in a messy bun, my flustered face was covered in dirt and dried mud, my clothes all torn and dirty. I sighed as I hugged my dirty blanket by me. It was time to be smart or be killed. As I looked around me and waited several moments to hear or see anything there was complete silence. I looked around for anything other then what I was taking, My backpack, knife and some warm clothing as I hoisted myself up to my feet and looked outside the window once more. I took a deep breath and threw down the old wood and rope ladder.
