HOME | DD

Description
The next thing I knew, I was caught in the darkness, feeling agonizing pain as if I was being squeezed to death. My eyes sting, streams of my tears burn my cheeks and blinding my sight. My head weighs a ton; my limbs stiff from shock. I try to move, to shake some life back into my battered body but couldn't find the strength. Squinting, I surveyed my surroundings. It was hard to place myself; my mind clouded and soon realized that the haze surrounding me was my home, shattered to pieces. Trickles of blood splattered to the ground from my finger nails. I was scratching furiously at something. Massive human-like figures resembling giants stomped throughout the city, causing chaos and dreadful screams.

I knew I was in a terrible situation, desperate to understand just what was happening. I became aware of the throbbing pain blossoming in my spine. It pulsed rapidly, agonizing waves rolling from the back of my tail bone shooting up to the nape of my neck. My ears rang and I groaned quietly, tormented by the building pressure.

In the midst of my pain I notice the outline of a small body, shouting my name frantically. Through the pain I take in pale, freckled skin, chocolate eyes wide with distress and fright. The shape began moving its lips, the devastating notes of its voice rolling over me, terrifying me, making me want to reach over and calm it down.

“No...” I manage to gasp out, throat dry and aflame. My voice sounded foreign and nearly unrecognisable to my own ears. The figure slowly started to disappear; it screamed my name again. This time its words pierced nostalgia through me like a bullet as I became conscious of who it really was. It was my little sister. Using all my strength in my voice, I screamed out in response. She smiled in relief and whispered words I couldn't hear before disappearing completely. A voice echoed in my mind, bringing me to lose consciousness.

At that moment, in my heart I knew,
Home was a pen. Humanity…is cattle.

The second time I woke, the pain was only a whisper of its former intensity, it was more like a stretched muscle from dad’s combat training last night. I darted out of bed taking in my surroundings again to find me in my room, safe and sound. Was it a dream? I thought. It felt so real though. I sighed in relief and fell back into bed rubbing my eyes from sleep that gathered overnight. I stretched to look at my clock that reads ‘8:00AM’.

My hand felt under my bed for my slippers. I put them on; tingled sensation of warmth flooded my feet. I shuffled out of bed again and spread my curtains, revealing unwanted sunshine piercing through my eyes. My nostrils caught a whiff of my mum’s freshly baked bread coming from the oven. I grinned as I threw on my dressing gown and raced down the stairs, ignoring the pain in my arms and legs. Knowing that this is a lifetime opportunity, I reached the kitchen and glared at the two loafs of bread. One was placed neatly in a basket on top of the counter while the other one was set on the window sill, cooling off. My mouth started to water as I kept staring at the bread for god who knows how long. My mum stands at the sink, washing dishes. I walk over and grab a spare tea towel and start drying.

“Ah, Rebecca you’re awake.” She smiles at me at the corner of her eye.

“Yeah, morning.” I pause then turn back to the loaf. “That bread smells amazing, how come you made it?” I hear a crackling sound as I notice my dad sits at the table, turning a page of his daily newspaper.

“One loaf is for us, the other loaf is for Dr. Jaeger who lives on the other side of the street. You haven’t met him yet but he often comes to visit the house when you’re not there.” My dad says, picking up a mug of coffee and sipping it slightly. “He’s a nice man. His wife is lovely too.”

I smile half-heartedly and turn back to drying dishes. I put them away and then grabbed a glass of water, downing it eagerly. I sit down next to my dad and hear little footsteps thumping down the stairs. The door to the kitchen creaks open, showing my little 6 year old sister, Cece. Her hands wrapped around her waist carrying her favourite teddy; Oscar, as she lets out the biggest yawn and plots herself on the seat.

My dream replayed in my head about my sister, and my heart started to ache as tears gathered at the back of my throat. “Becky, why are your eyes red and puffy?” My sister asks tilting her head as her blond curly bangs hang over her face.

I shrug as I lay my head on the counter. Dad shuffles through his newspaper a few more times before speaking up. “Must be from all that hard core training ey?”

My dad used to be a former soldier of the Military Police, protecting and serving the king within the walls we are kept in. He was ranked #2 of his squad and was recognized for his extremely incredible skill at hand-to-hand combat. But one day during training he severely injured his back and had to resign from any further duties. Now he wants me to follow in his footsteps and join when I turn twelve next year, to become a cadet, that’s why he practises my fighting techniques nearly every night so I come prepared.

I stand up, grabbing a bowl of cereal. After I finish I go get changed. I poke through the clothes in my wardrobe, deciding what to wear. After a few minutes I result to wearing a plain blue top and denim shorts. I snatch the brush from my drawer and stumble into the bathroom, turning on the light to reveal myself in front of the mirror.

I begin to brush my hair, letting my dark honey-brown locks de-tangle from the brush. I then turn on the tap and wash my face and dry it with a towel. I lean in towards the mirror peering at my features. I mostly take after my dad while Cece takes after mum, a lot people say that we look alike, but I just find that strange. Her blonde curly hair and my wavy brunette hair. Her small chocolate eyes, my big ocean blue eyes. Her fair skin and my beige skin. Although we do resemble each other in some places, like our small petite noses, rosy-pink lips, heart shaped faces and faded caramel freckles that rests slightly above our cheeks.

But our personalities are completely off. She’s the quiet, obedient type that anyone can rely on or trust. While I'm the loud-mouthed, impartial type, not afraid to have a go at things and will speak whatever’s on my mind. I must admit that I do take after one trait that my mum possesses. I am very observant and I'm good at remembering things, such as faces and names.

After I finish washing up in the bathroom, I put on my converse and head back down to the kitchen.