We Can [ Not ] Redo
CURRENT LOCATION :: Area 21 (Maine) | "Paradise"
* I'll probably forget to tell you guys in OOC, so I'll tell you now. Please don't quick post and give others some time because of the timezone difference and having a life. :3 Cheers~! *
A frown crossed the red-haired woman's face as she stared down at the nearly-empty bag she carried around. Just two weeks ago, the bag was nearly filled with canned food, some bandages, a matchbox, and some blades wrapped neatly in a cloth. Now, the only object that remained were the extra blades and a random pack of crushed crackers. Carol closed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She then fiddled with her spearing, her green eyes staring at the blood-tinted blades that were attached. The poor bloke she had sliced had went after her bag, which he had thought was filled with food. Carol would have liked to have food in her bag, but unfortunately, she didn't. With a sigh, she absent-mindly attached the blade she had to her pole. She licked her lips and leaned against the wall, gently touching her mask. Her stomach had been stabbing with pain ever since last night; her body screaming for something to fill her stomach. "I'm strong. I can do this. Maybe the supply truck will pass by today," she thought.
Her stomach wailed once again in anguish.
This young woman named Carol was around twenty years old, abandoned by her parents at a tender young age. She had learned from early experiences that the weak only died and the strong thrived. While other adults or well-off teenagers might have thought the scrawny red-head kid would die in less then a week, an old man had taken interest in the kid. He had given her a name, a name Carol would always treasure with her life. He taught her how to defend herself, how to scramble around for food, and the best hiding spots around the city. Eventually, Carol had taken a liking to a spear - a wooden pole that had blades attached to it. Life was good until that day happened.
For the second time again in her life, she was alone. Carol didn't cry, only silently closing the man's eyes and burying him in his hut. She left her 'home' that night, taking his and her things to wander around. For a while, she slept inside broken houses, until she woke up and decided to turn a not-so damaged house into hers. It was a blissful feeling, creating something that solely belonged to her and her only. For a while, Carol felt happy, until she ran out of food again. It was like a cycle. Happy when the food truck came by. Sad when the food was gone. To Carol, it was hilarious how people, including herself, could change so much from a loaf of bread. "I would kill for some bread," she mumbled to herself. Realizing what she had said, Carol let out a strangled giggle, shutting her eyes.