Ramblings of a Survivor

I turned my head, neck stiff.

Do I really have to get up?

The synthetic fibers of the sleeping bag crinkled loudly as I moved

Don’t wake anyone!

My toes touched the binding of the journal in it’s safety at the base of my sleeping bag.

CRAP! who heard that?

No on, Melissa. No one.

I shifted again.

Remember home. Remember. home.

6 AM

It’s…well, shoot. It’s only 10 pm there. Still time for a call.

Silence….but the clock ticking in the kitchen pounded.

Week 5, I think. Hadn’t heard from them in ages.

I want to die. Just let me die….no no no. let l me almost die.

I don’t want to all the way die, just let me die enough where I have to get home.

Still time for a call. Just mom’s voice.

Just let me die.

ZBRRRRRRRRNG

I was up, rushing up from the floor where my bed was, out the door of the communal space, and into the tiny dining room where the phone hung.

“Szia!!!!!!! This is Melissa.”

Silence.

Dead.

Nothing

Maybe next time.