The rubble is cutting my hands to ribbons, and the dust is filling my lungs, trying to suffocate me in a slow, painful manner. Filling my body with what felt like concrete, making my joints and limbs heavy and stiff. My eyes are glass, and my eyelids sandpaper. Making it impossible to tell if keeping my eyes glued shut, or trying to peel them open and make the slow and painful blinks. But I was motivated. With a sudden burst of light, my arms broke through the last bits of rubble.

I gasped for clean air not polluted with dirt and dust, only to find the air full of cigarette smoke, burning oils and gasoline, and a thick iron taste painted against my tounge. As my lungs filled with air, it felt like stones were grinding together in my chest. I opened my eyes and looked around the devastating scene, ignoring the smoke biting into my corneas like needles.

The buildings that were once tall and powerful, were just skeletons of the iron structures. The others were crumpled in a sad heap on the floor smoke dancing up from the ruins. And the worst part was, I knew exactly who did it.

I grew up in this broken world, with a broken family, and a broken society. But the people did not want to be broken. Except for him. He wanted to test his limits. Brake in whatever way possible, be remembered as the villain. A villain with no hero. The difference between the two of us is, he brakes, but you can bend me and hurt me but i won’t brake. Be a little twisted maybe, but brake? Never.

If there is a reason I am alive while the rest of the cities citizens have died, I will find it.

While my body was physically in pain, I only felt the burning sensation of my blood beginning to boil. Get ready for his blood to flood the streets, drip into every gutter.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

I see red. Everyone thing’s see makes me want to fall and scream. The crumpled and deformed bodies, the crimson lining the streets, all of it. Not a single breath no matter how deep, never feels fulfilling enough for survival. The anger causing everything to become tense. Everything to ache.

Like I thirst that is itching at the back of my throat, and no matter how much I drink, this things can never be quenched. And now I can see;

This man feels no guilt,

No remorse,

No shame.

But he will feel pain.

I’ll make sure of it.