I survived. That was my first thought. If you don’t count OW! Then it was my second thought. But what did I survive from? All I remembered was my name. Ayira, it means chosen. Chosen for what, I don’t know. I did a mental checklist to see what condition my body was in. Everything seemed to be all right except for my left arm. It was bending the wrong way and had a purple coloring to it. It must have been like that for a while though, because it no longer hurt. I looked around and saw that I was sitting in a huge puddle of blood. Like any sane person I screamed my head off and stood up struggling to wipe off the red ooze that covered my body. My vision blurred and I stumbled over bodies and, me being my graceful self, tripped. Once I woke up again I was face to face with my mom. “Mom?” I whispered. She didn't answer and just stared into my eyes. There was a red streak across her forehead. I looked at it confused. How did it get there? My mother was always pristine and would never let such a thing happen. I stared at it for about ten minutes until I realized that she hadn't blinked at all. “Mom?” I asked weakly, trying to raise my right arm to wave in front of her face. “Mom?” I asked again a little louder. She didn't reply, just looked at me with empty eyes. I bolt up into a sitting position only stopping for a couple seconds to hold my head which was throbbing in disagreement at the sudden movement. I leaned over my mother and shook her shoulder with my good hand, first softly but harder and harder after she didn't respond. “Mom!” I was screaming then, tears had been making their way down my muddy and blood splattered cheeks. I gave up after my screaming turned to choking and gagging and let her body slump to the ground. I turned around and put my back against a cool hard surface and took in the scene. The things that I noticed first were all of the bodies. Once I got over that I saw a pile of backpacks and cans that used to hold food scattered across the room. My stomach growled angrily at me. I wanted to snarl back at it but then I would have looked crazy. I see a can near me and make a reach for it. I lifted up my right arm and held it out wiggling my fingers. I was still a couple inches short. I sighed loudly and bent over so that I was almost lying on my side but still sitting. My fingers skimmed the edge of the plastic container. I grunt and shuffled my body closer. I grabbed the can and sat back up with a smile on my face that screamed pride in my accomplishment. I ripped off the top with my teeth and looked inside excitedly. Mush. I made a huge effort, for a can of mush. I groaned and looked at the label. Might as well know what kind of mush it is. It was peas. I could now see the green tint to it. I looked at it with revulsion. I hate peas. Hunger won in the end, however, and I ate those smashed peas. When I was finished my stomach had stopped making so much noise and I was searching the room for something that would jolt my memory. It was dark which meant that there were either no lights or they had been broken from The Hit. The Hit. It all came back to me.
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