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Cramped [Open]
Sept 29, 2013 18:38:08 GMT -5
Post by [Jay] Waterdrop66 on Sept 29, 2013 18:38:08 GMT -5
I can't breath.
I wake up choking. I pull myself up off of my cot and rush to the "kitchen". It was more like a corner of the overall room. It just happened to have a rusty stove and sink. I grabbed a glass from the counter and filled it with water. I downed the glass in seconds. I spit into the sink and tried to clear my throat. No good; I'm still coughing.
It's getting worse... I think to myself.
I'm sick. It's not uncommon in this area of the District though. We see people die too often. It's often a factory accident. Occasionally it's starvation. But it was usually the same thing. People would start to cough. And then they would die. Peacekeepers would claim it to be natural causes, but no one believes that. It's no secret that the crap in the air is the cause. Factories on every corner blow out smoke constantly. That smog can't possibly be good for anyone. Those of us living in the crowded slums were subject to this air on a constant basis. Unlike those wealthy big shots in the northern area of the District, we don't all have a nice cozy spot in the Capitol's rear end.
I sigh and try to catch my breath. We weren't the poorest citizens, but we certainly weren't set for life. Our home was a cramped room with a bathroom the size of a small closet. We had a stove, a sink, a table, some cots, so we weren't exactly roughing it. But I was still claustrophobic, so I deserve the right to complain. I hear a groan from the room over. I get my bearings and check on them.
Matilda is fast asleep. She works late shifts so we try not to bother her when she sleeps. But the noise persisted. Mikayla was squirming under her blanket, seemingly having a nightmare. I crouched beside her and straightened her blanket. My little sister seemed to calm down, so I tucked her in and brushed her hair aside. Once she stopped writhing so much, I smiled and looked at the time. It was about 5:00 a.m., most people were asleep. Although I do love my beauty sleep, I usually get up early to avoid the crowds and the noise of the neighborhood. I grabbed my raggy bandana and quietly slid out the front door.
We lived on the 4th floor of a seven story building, so the walk up the flight of stairs wasn't too bad. I tried my best to stay quiet while passing the countless other rooms. Eventually I reach a door, it leads to the roof. I wrap my bandana around my mouth as to keep the smoke out of my lungs. I step out into the brisk, windy air and smile. The factories haven't started up yet, so there wasn't nearly as much smog as normal. Of course it was still filthy, but I work with what I can get.
I walk over to the edge of the building and look over the side. It was a long way down.
Must be a hundred feet down...
I sat down on the ledge and let my legs hang. It felt good. I was alone, but I had a place. I didn't have to worry here. I had an OK life. People were worse of than me. I should be grateful. But I was happy to escape the crappy parts of my life.
I was still thinking to myself when I sensed that someone else was there.
I wake up choking. I pull myself up off of my cot and rush to the "kitchen". It was more like a corner of the overall room. It just happened to have a rusty stove and sink. I grabbed a glass from the counter and filled it with water. I downed the glass in seconds. I spit into the sink and tried to clear my throat. No good; I'm still coughing.
It's getting worse... I think to myself.
I'm sick. It's not uncommon in this area of the District though. We see people die too often. It's often a factory accident. Occasionally it's starvation. But it was usually the same thing. People would start to cough. And then they would die. Peacekeepers would claim it to be natural causes, but no one believes that. It's no secret that the crap in the air is the cause. Factories on every corner blow out smoke constantly. That smog can't possibly be good for anyone. Those of us living in the crowded slums were subject to this air on a constant basis. Unlike those wealthy big shots in the northern area of the District, we don't all have a nice cozy spot in the Capitol's rear end.
I sigh and try to catch my breath. We weren't the poorest citizens, but we certainly weren't set for life. Our home was a cramped room with a bathroom the size of a small closet. We had a stove, a sink, a table, some cots, so we weren't exactly roughing it. But I was still claustrophobic, so I deserve the right to complain. I hear a groan from the room over. I get my bearings and check on them.
Matilda is fast asleep. She works late shifts so we try not to bother her when she sleeps. But the noise persisted. Mikayla was squirming under her blanket, seemingly having a nightmare. I crouched beside her and straightened her blanket. My little sister seemed to calm down, so I tucked her in and brushed her hair aside. Once she stopped writhing so much, I smiled and looked at the time. It was about 5:00 a.m., most people were asleep. Although I do love my beauty sleep, I usually get up early to avoid the crowds and the noise of the neighborhood. I grabbed my raggy bandana and quietly slid out the front door.
We lived on the 4th floor of a seven story building, so the walk up the flight of stairs wasn't too bad. I tried my best to stay quiet while passing the countless other rooms. Eventually I reach a door, it leads to the roof. I wrap my bandana around my mouth as to keep the smoke out of my lungs. I step out into the brisk, windy air and smile. The factories haven't started up yet, so there wasn't nearly as much smog as normal. Of course it was still filthy, but I work with what I can get.
I walk over to the edge of the building and look over the side. It was a long way down.
Must be a hundred feet down...
I sat down on the ledge and let my legs hang. It felt good. I was alone, but I had a place. I didn't have to worry here. I had an OK life. People were worse of than me. I should be grateful. But I was happy to escape the crappy parts of my life.
I was still thinking to myself when I sensed that someone else was there.
