swaying with the wind ; [closed]

The spring breeze gives me a chill down my spine. Brief, yet still one that goes straight down to the bone. The sun poked its way through the clouds above, sending its rays of light across the destroyed rubble of what used to be my home. Well, not really, considering I was born underground, but what used to be the home of my ancestors. I can feel it beneath my feet, the ash in my hands. I begin to wonder how it would taste, lit alight and then placed against my rough lips, slightly damp from a swig of the bottle. I brush my fingers against the sweat on my forehead, feeling the drop. That reminds me that I need water. But I'm on my break, the one period of five minutes that I get each month to soak in the sun and breathe in the air.

So, that's why I walked into the forest. I was always told that while outside, I should stay out of open places, only hide behind rubble or around the tree line. But they always say that we should stay out of the forest, no matter what. That's where the officers roam, trying to search for any people that just want to escape the life of the Districts. They might think I'm the same. I actually like it at home. There's plenty of alcohol and illegal substances that I can get my hands on. Speaking of them, I'm surprised they aren't coursing through my blood right now. Such a typical and normal part of me no longer there, replaced with the curiosity of the tall trees and the demanding thirst for water.

Good thing I was sober. Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to recognize the loud noise of boots hitting the ground, increasing in volume until I feel the hard stick smashing across the back of my head. I was out before I hit the ground.