After all the struggling, the bad times, today it might finally be over. Yesterday I was scavenging around Weston Street today to find any supplies worth taking. Weston Street is the most dangerous location of New Junction City if that’s even possible. It’s dominated by various gangs and groups who only looked out for themselves. I had heard what keeps them in power was this thing called “Magic”. I had to be fast my whole life in order to live. I haven’t had anyone to help me since I was a baby, before all the bad times. But making supply runs on Weston forced me to be faster than fast. I had to just try to survive. I was making my way around the city and found a couple of cans of vegetables and some fruit that was. I needed to get these supplies back to the refugee camp I stayed at.
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Luckily for me the gangs that run the city were too busy fighting each other to notice me. When I returned to the camp I was labeled a hero and people were praising me. It felt strange, as I never wanted to play the “hero” I had just wanted to create a better life for all these people that look to me for hope. When I went to sleep that night, I almost felt at peace about being the savior these people need to look up to. The camp was made of old people, pregnant moms, kids without parents and plenty of people who just needed someone or something to believe in. And I guess for them it was a twelve year old kid. It was later that night after I was woken up by the sounds of screaming. I ran out to see the camp being attacked by a large group of people. The assailants ranged from people with guns or swords, to people using these strange attacks. I ran out and fought to defend everything I loved but to no avail. I wasn’t fast enough or strong enough to stop the in time and soon the numbers become overwhelming. One by one I was being beaten on and stabbed more and
Luckily for me the gangs that run the city were too busy fighting each other to notice me. When I returned to the camp I was labeled a hero and people were praising me. It felt strange, as I never wanted to play the “hero” I had just wanted to create a better life for all these people that look to me for hope. When I went to sleep that night, I almost felt at peace about being the savior these people need to look up to. The camp was made of old people, pregnant moms, kids without parents and plenty of people who just needed someone or something to believe in. And I guess for them it was a twelve year old kid. It was later that night after I was woken up by the sounds of screaming. I ran out to see the camp being attacked by a large group of people. The assailants ranged from people with guns or swords, to people using these strange attacks. I ran out and fought to defend everything I loved but to no avail. I wasn’t fast enough or strong enough to stop the in time and soon the numbers become overwhelming. One by one I was being beaten on and stabbed more and