Cardell Park, The Damione Xavis Capital.
“Every world is filled with choices… what you do with those choices will decide which world you live in.”
Those were the last words I heard from my uncle before the ground fell out from under me. That was the last time I heard his voice before the fire and dust took my mother. Soon my father was gone, my sister was gone, and my closest friend in all my life… she died with them too, or at least, that’s what I thought. Not many people on a destroyed planet survive the explosion, shoot, not many people off the planet trying to escape survive either. So what makes me so lucky? Simple... my life was hell already. Why not? Why not take everything that made it bearable? Why not make me the only survivor of a mass genocide at the age of 9? Why not leave me to be what every child fears most… alone.
I lived that night. I never understood why but I did. I landed, half unconscious, in what seemed like a forest, not knowing where I was for days. It didn’t sink in, what had happened, until later on. That night as soon as I had landed there in that small pod, two things took place. First, I felt someone pull me out by my hair, throwing me to the ground and pulling my head up from the back. It was frightening, the many husky and low voices around me laughing and shouting in a language I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t see them; my eyes had always been bad. I can’t remember the last time they weren’t. I could have fought them; my strength was legendary; and deep down I knew I could, but something was stopping me. I was scared, not of the people attacking me but for THEM.
The second thing that took place… I felt the scars on my right arm heat up then I blacked out. I can’t remember the details of the night except for low distant sounds. I heard screams, but they were low and quiet, along with more shouting in another language. It was there I realized what language they were speaking. It was a mixture of Aquadrion and English, mostly English. Most people called it “Drio slang.” I could tell what it was but I still couldn’t understand it. After I had woken up from the black out, I felt cold, then something wet and squishy in my hands… mud. I spent most of my life up to now like a blind person so I got used to feeling things and knowing what was what around me rather quickly. The darkness of the night could not deceive me like a normal person. Unfortunately, what was next to the mud, I wish I had never touched. It was firm and cold, but when I grabbed it, my heart jumped in my throat. It was flesh… cold flesh, an arm. A rancid smell of something decaying caused me to jump back as far as I could until I felt something else. It was the same as the arm only slightly longer. My hand went down and found out it was a leg. I quickly rolled to the other side hoping nothing else was there. I was wrong again. My hand hit something softer than the leg and the arm but was prickly. It was a face. I had touched the scruffy cheek of some man, and it was cold just like the others.
Our imagination can be our greatest weapon. However, it can also be the death of us. A child’s imagination is often stronger and less controlled. Therefore, as you can expect, my mind began to kill me that night. I didn’t know what was real or just imagined. I didn’t want to know. It was either I was surrounded by numerous dead people, or one dead person… I couldn’t think about that, I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to see it in my thoughts; I didn’t want to imagine it. I moved backwards praying not to run into anything else and hit the back of my head against what felt like a tree. My hands went up and down to make sure, and then after I had confirmed it was, I curled up next to it. Everything was wet, cold, and muddy now. I didn’t dare sleep that night, and instead I covered my face, staring into the darkness that surrounded me. Things were quiet now and my mind never rested. I stayed up thinking how my “so called tragic life” was never so tragic before this; at least I didn’t think so. Oh how wrong I was… but I’m getting off topic. At this time, I was in a forest all by myself and I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I wanted to go home; I wanted to be stuck in that big and empty house. I wanted to be punished by my father, I wanted to be held by my mother, I wanted to be teased by my friend, and I wanted my little sister to pull my hair like she always did. There were many things I wanted at that time, but what I wanted most… was for all of them to come back…