Status: All characters and events are completely fictional. Any connections with real life are just a coincidence.
The Second Wave
Chapter 3- Tracie
I watched the sun rise from the ground, the trees below beginning to glow in the morning's rays. Last night had been my last in the small suburban town. This was the place where I'd lived through it all. Or at least a decent portion. There wasn't a part of me that wasn't glad to be finally rid of it. I hadn't anticipated on passing through on my way across the States and I really wished I hadn't. Too many bad memories in way too small of a location.
Without so much as a sigh, I stood up and collected my flashlight and pistol, the only other items I had besides the clothes on my back. I meandered down the middle of the street, passing the houses of childhood faces I haven't seen in forever. They were dead for all I knew.
Or cared for that matter.
I was what you might call a "dark child." None of the parents would let their kids go anywhere near me and I always sat alone at school. Most of my days where spent in the woods near the house. I'd even built a small treehouse where I did my homework when I was nine. That forest had been the only place where I felt I actually felt that I belonged.
My parents were always gone from six to some unknown late hour, so I was never really worried that they would come looking for me. They had very demanding jobs. More demanding than their own child. Now of course they didn't just let a young kid stay alone at home all day. They had a nanny of sorts, a high school student named Kate, who would come over after school and watch me. I hadn't liked her very much at first, so I was always doing things that would get her in trouble such as creating giant messes then running off to my little hideout in the woods. Every single time though, she would quietly clean it up and pretend that nothing had ever happened. Even telling my parents I had been a "good little girl" and that there had been no troubles. Seeing as nothing I did would make her rat me out, I finally decided to let her in.
We quickly grew to be fast friends. She helped me build the tree house one Friday and that became our official clubhouse. We would go up there every day, unless it was snowing or raining, and do homework together. She would help me when I had questions and I would even help her study for her quizzes and tests. Then when we were done, we would braid each other's hair and make flower chains out of clover and other wildflowers on the forest floor. Those had been by far the happiest days of my life.
Until one day, Kate just... stopped coming. At first I thought it had been something I'd done. But then I realized that we'd never had any real issues. I asked my parents if they knew anything about it but they just shook their heads and said they hadn't been able to get ahold of her in quite some time. It was long after that that everything went completely downhill. I never really got any closure on Kate's disappearance, so I just assumed that she'd died along with all the other casualties of the War.
The rest of what I like to call "normal time" before the War broke out was spent in isolation. I stopped going to school and stopped trying to care. That's when people truly began to become scared of me.
Maybe when all the parents would call me a "dark child," they were telling the truth. Because for some reason, all the important people in my life just kept winding up dead.
==-=
By late morning, the sky had turned a deep gray and had begun to rain. Normally, an occurrence like this would be very welcomed in the intense heat, but I wasn't in a very welcoming mood. Actually, I was never really in a good mood. I would've thought that after searching for three years, I would've found something of my parent’s killer by now. Or at least heard something.
I guess me and luck weren’t on the best of terms.
All my clothes were already soaked through, plastered to my body and heavy and totally uncomfortable. Ever tried walking in the rain while wearing a pair of jeans? It's awful. Which just goes to show how fortunate I am.
I ran my hand through my hair, letting my fingers comb through the knots. What I'd do for something as simple as a brush right now, I thought dejectedly. I knew that I could always go searching through a house for one but that would just be a waste of time. And I didn't have anywhere to put it.
Maybe what I really needed was a bag.
But then again, something like that would only weigh me down.
Literally.
Being alone was tough. Really tough. I had absolutely nowhere to stay and no one to talk to. It felt like ages since I'd had a conversation or even talked with anyone. Actually, it probably had been ages. Sometimes I wondered if, when I finally would find someone, I wouldn't be able to speak and I would have to be mute for the rest of my life. That would be awful because then I wouldn't be able to accuse that stupid bitch for ruining my life. By now you're probably starting to wonder if I realize that I keep bringing up revenge and my parents' killer over and over and over. And if you're starting to wonder if this is my only purpose in life, the answer to both of those would be yes. It's the only thing that keeps me going. The only reason why I haven't totally given up. It gives me a purpose to wake up every morning and an excuse to walk that extra mile each day. If you ever experienced what I had, trust me, you would be acting just like me.
It didn’t help that I had an angry little heart inside my chest. Kate always would tell me that she could never understand how someone so little could hold so much hate. I don't understand it either but I can't help it. If one little thing happens, I get so mad I can't stand it. It sets my blood on fire and I go numb all over. That's probably why I've held onto revenge for three whole years. Long time, I know.
So lost in my own thoughts, I didn't even realize that I'd slipped on a pile of wet leaves until I hit the pavement beneath me. My forehead scraped against something sharp and I took in a quick breath of air. My right knee hurt the worst of all, and when I looked down, I saw that the fabric was stained red. Shaking so hard that my teeth began to chatter inside my skull, I pulled myself into a sitting position and tenderly rolled the pant leg up so I could see the damage.
It was such a big cut.
It ran horizontally across the surface and looked pretty deep. Whenever a raindrop landed or rolled into the wound, I gave out a whimper. A drop of salty rain trickled into my mouth. I was crying.
I had no idea what to do. I had no way to fix this.
I was alone.
I was so... so frustrated. Before I knew it I was lying on my back, a stream of curses flowing around my sobs. I cursed the War. I cursed the government for being the way it was and Kate for abandoning me. I even went so far as to curse my parents for dying. I cursed the woman who put me in this mess and I cursed that God hadn't killed me already. And when I could think of anything else to curse, I yelled at the sky for raining.
"You've always been out to get me!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.
Warmth spread out from the wound and down my leg. I suddenly felt very tired and very weak, my body going slack as I thought, Maybe I'll just close my eyes for a moment.
Then I’ll go.
Then I'll go.
Just for a moment...
Just
One
Moment.
Without so much as a sigh, I stood up and collected my flashlight and pistol, the only other items I had besides the clothes on my back. I meandered down the middle of the street, passing the houses of childhood faces I haven't seen in forever. They were dead for all I knew.
Or cared for that matter.
I was what you might call a "dark child." None of the parents would let their kids go anywhere near me and I always sat alone at school. Most of my days where spent in the woods near the house. I'd even built a small treehouse where I did my homework when I was nine. That forest had been the only place where I felt I actually felt that I belonged.
My parents were always gone from six to some unknown late hour, so I was never really worried that they would come looking for me. They had very demanding jobs. More demanding than their own child. Now of course they didn't just let a young kid stay alone at home all day. They had a nanny of sorts, a high school student named Kate, who would come over after school and watch me. I hadn't liked her very much at first, so I was always doing things that would get her in trouble such as creating giant messes then running off to my little hideout in the woods. Every single time though, she would quietly clean it up and pretend that nothing had ever happened. Even telling my parents I had been a "good little girl" and that there had been no troubles. Seeing as nothing I did would make her rat me out, I finally decided to let her in.
We quickly grew to be fast friends. She helped me build the tree house one Friday and that became our official clubhouse. We would go up there every day, unless it was snowing or raining, and do homework together. She would help me when I had questions and I would even help her study for her quizzes and tests. Then when we were done, we would braid each other's hair and make flower chains out of clover and other wildflowers on the forest floor. Those had been by far the happiest days of my life.
Until one day, Kate just... stopped coming. At first I thought it had been something I'd done. But then I realized that we'd never had any real issues. I asked my parents if they knew anything about it but they just shook their heads and said they hadn't been able to get ahold of her in quite some time. It was long after that that everything went completely downhill. I never really got any closure on Kate's disappearance, so I just assumed that she'd died along with all the other casualties of the War.
The rest of what I like to call "normal time" before the War broke out was spent in isolation. I stopped going to school and stopped trying to care. That's when people truly began to become scared of me.
Maybe when all the parents would call me a "dark child," they were telling the truth. Because for some reason, all the important people in my life just kept winding up dead.
==-=
By late morning, the sky had turned a deep gray and had begun to rain. Normally, an occurrence like this would be very welcomed in the intense heat, but I wasn't in a very welcoming mood. Actually, I was never really in a good mood. I would've thought that after searching for three years, I would've found something of my parent’s killer by now. Or at least heard something.
I guess me and luck weren’t on the best of terms.
All my clothes were already soaked through, plastered to my body and heavy and totally uncomfortable. Ever tried walking in the rain while wearing a pair of jeans? It's awful. Which just goes to show how fortunate I am.
I ran my hand through my hair, letting my fingers comb through the knots. What I'd do for something as simple as a brush right now, I thought dejectedly. I knew that I could always go searching through a house for one but that would just be a waste of time. And I didn't have anywhere to put it.
Maybe what I really needed was a bag.
But then again, something like that would only weigh me down.
Literally.
Being alone was tough. Really tough. I had absolutely nowhere to stay and no one to talk to. It felt like ages since I'd had a conversation or even talked with anyone. Actually, it probably had been ages. Sometimes I wondered if, when I finally would find someone, I wouldn't be able to speak and I would have to be mute for the rest of my life. That would be awful because then I wouldn't be able to accuse that stupid bitch for ruining my life. By now you're probably starting to wonder if I realize that I keep bringing up revenge and my parents' killer over and over and over. And if you're starting to wonder if this is my only purpose in life, the answer to both of those would be yes. It's the only thing that keeps me going. The only reason why I haven't totally given up. It gives me a purpose to wake up every morning and an excuse to walk that extra mile each day. If you ever experienced what I had, trust me, you would be acting just like me.
It didn’t help that I had an angry little heart inside my chest. Kate always would tell me that she could never understand how someone so little could hold so much hate. I don't understand it either but I can't help it. If one little thing happens, I get so mad I can't stand it. It sets my blood on fire and I go numb all over. That's probably why I've held onto revenge for three whole years. Long time, I know.
So lost in my own thoughts, I didn't even realize that I'd slipped on a pile of wet leaves until I hit the pavement beneath me. My forehead scraped against something sharp and I took in a quick breath of air. My right knee hurt the worst of all, and when I looked down, I saw that the fabric was stained red. Shaking so hard that my teeth began to chatter inside my skull, I pulled myself into a sitting position and tenderly rolled the pant leg up so I could see the damage.
It was such a big cut.
It ran horizontally across the surface and looked pretty deep. Whenever a raindrop landed or rolled into the wound, I gave out a whimper. A drop of salty rain trickled into my mouth. I was crying.
I had no idea what to do. I had no way to fix this.
I was alone.
I was so... so frustrated. Before I knew it I was lying on my back, a stream of curses flowing around my sobs. I cursed the War. I cursed the government for being the way it was and Kate for abandoning me. I even went so far as to curse my parents for dying. I cursed the woman who put me in this mess and I cursed that God hadn't killed me already. And when I could think of anything else to curse, I yelled at the sky for raining.
"You've always been out to get me!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.
Warmth spread out from the wound and down my leg. I suddenly felt very tired and very weak, my body going slack as I thought, Maybe I'll just close my eyes for a moment.
Then I’ll go.
Then I'll go.
Just for a moment...
Just
One
Moment.