Shattered Glass

I’ve lived in New York all my life, it used to not be impressive to say that when you’re 16. But nowadays, it’s a different story. My mom told me once this city never slept it was full of life, love, lights, and wealth. Now the only way to describe it is a shit hole of shattered glass and death. My mom had lived through the destruction of the previous world. She couldn’t talk about it, without going into hysteria and passing out. The only thing she could say was that there was a loud bang that shook the earth. all the skyscrapers that once made this city so prominent shattered, the glass fell down maiming all in the street. Many died on the spot, some later due to infection, and others later due to madness. Apparently the government had shut down and people panicked. Most fled the city, but not her. She had a 3 month old baby boy and she didn’t know where to go. She stayed in the city with corpses rotting in the street, rats and crows tearing apart the rotting flesh.

She lived in her old apartment and boarded up the windows because the glass broke and she didn’t want anyone coming in uninvited. The building is broken down, no electricity or water, mold, and mildew everywhere. The furniture is broken and torn, the tiles are broken, the wall has a few punches in it. There are mice and rats all about. And her…

She had become weak after the disaster, she remained as strong as she could to teach me how to scavenge, defend myself, and live. She was the daughter of a sergeant in the military. He must have shown only tough love apparently, because that’s all I got. I didn’t know my dad, but from what my mom said he passed away before I was born. She refuses to go into the specifics and I don’t know what it was . When I asked her, she said no and just kept scratching the small circular scars on her arm that remind me of splinter wounds.

As I got older and stronger, she got weaker and 2 years ago, she was taking a shower and she never got out. She just dropped the bucket she was using, and fell and wasn’t breathing. I didn’t have the heart to throw her on the street like everyone else does here, so she’s just been there for 2 years now.

I follow the advice she gave me growing up. The only way to live is to keep your head down, hunt, and get water when needed, clean your wounds, and do not join the gang. The gang is a group of fuck faces. They don’t care who you are if you get in their way or don’t do what they want you to do you die. They pretend the old world never existed and that this is paradise. They raid people’s homes, mutilate bodies, and other things that Mom said I was too young to know. They’ve given up on tracking days, months, and years. They are never tired or sad, they’ve gone mad and spun the rest of the city into madness as well. No one talks to each other, everyone avoids each other. No talking, no helping, no nothing, just puts their heads down when they see they aren’t a member of the gang and walks past with no interactions.

When the gang comes by I was told to always hide inside with my mom, because they are recruiting when they come by. They pin the person down and stab their arm with something that pushes a liquid into them. After a little while the person pinned begins laughing and is ‘on cloud 9’. They ask at that point if they would like to join, but never before. The person always says yes, even if they are leaving their family. Every time Mom heard that laugh or the family’s cries she had to cover her ears and keep muttering, “Think of John, think of John, think of John”. She would stay in that state for at least a half hour.

After she left I wanted to join them a few times, but they never wear clothes. My clothes aren’t in good shape, I’ve outgrown them and they are torn, and not the same color anymore, but at least it keeps me warm in the winter. I honestly don’t think I’ve heard the same gang members’ voice twice. It always seems like a new person each time.

Today is March 31st, 2084 again for the 20th time. My mom told me to add a dot to the calendar each time the sun rises and falls to keep track of the weather. It’s starting to warm up so I can go rat hunting outside of the building again, and get some water. I hate to admit it, but when food gets scarce I let the rats get to Mom so I can get food. But it’s all I can do to survive sometimes, especially when the gang is around. I keep a month’s supply of water at all times, but I can’t do that with food. The meat rots even if I cook it. I ran out of salt a while ago, so I can’t preserve it. While I’m out I should probably find a calendar, this one is getting full.

I squeeze into my coat, and cram my feet into my shoes so my toes are all bunched in the front. I wear my scarf and grab my knife and a bag full of glass jugs and a plastic bag. I put the rats in the bag until I get home to skin them, the water goes into the jugs, though I’ve lost the caps on half of them. Everything will be wet by the time I get home, so I’ll make it quick. Last thing I need is the backpack and meat freezing again.

I ran to the river, near the collapsed bridge. To this day I think Mom was lying when she said that it was once standing and connecting the two lands. I set up rat traps using the skins from my previous prey as bait, and then fill the jugs with water. Four rats had fallen into the ditch trap I had and I began stabbing them one by one. I place them in the plastic bag, fill up my backpack, and start to run back. On my way back, I quickly scan the rubble for anything useful, medical supplies, calendar, etc. I stop in my tracks when I see the naked old man. I turn to run back, but I can’t, there were two others, one on each arm. It didn’t make sense they normally leave here for a week and they just left here?!

“Look at this young lad, don’t he look like a good candidate?”

“Let go of me you cock sucker!” I try to jerk free from the men holding me but they are strong, their nails begin to dig into my skin.

“Well you got quite the fighting spirit don’t we. You know you remind me of my old friend, Johnny boy. Man, he was the life of the party. You know your face kinda looks like his.”

“How did you know my name?” I still struggle as their nails start to draw blood.

“Oh well damn, you know that bastard had a kid. Tell me was your momma a blond with blue eyes and scars like these on her arm.” The man brushed the dirt around the inside of his arm to reveal the same marks as Mom.

“What of it, you dick bag!” I get one arm free and punch the man in front of me in the nose. I couldn’t run as my left arm was still in the grips of a very strong man.

“You really pack a punch kid. But stop struggling. Do you want to know how your daddy died, why your momma has those scars, why she’s been so weak and getting worse.”

I freeze for a second, this man knows my father, this senile old man knows about my mom. But Mom said she got weak from the disaster. “What do you know?”

The man picks up the weird weapon on the ground filled with a clear liquid. He pushes on the back and something shoots out of the thin piece of metal at the top. “This my good boy is what your parents lived on. It’s our strength, it's our desire, it takes us to paradise, but at a cost of course. You see, your Momma and Poppa loved this stuff. Your Momma had to stop when she found out she was having you. Don’t get me wrong this stuff is great, but it is poison and she didn’t want to kill you. You see when you stop taking this drug, it causes some... umm... harsh reactions. Your momma was twitching a lot and kept getting really mad and throwing up. And your folks kept fighting, your Poppa that poor bastard kept retreating into this little blessed curse. He loved your Momma but didn’t know how to make things better, and it hurt him, so he used this as his medicine. One day he took too much and fell asleep and didn’t wake up.” The man was examining this weapon meticulously. “You see son, you killed your daddy by just existing. And your Momma well this little thing gave her a curse and she was dying of that, but instead of using this baby to ignore the pain she just pushed through it. Just for your punk ass to not be alone, she was in agony since the day you were born. And for what, a runt like you? ”

I fell to my knees, it all made sense, her muttering, her tantrums, her hiding, she suffered for me. But she left me alone, regardless, she was in pain for nothing, and my dad died because Mom was suffering for me. I’ve lived a lie, and killed my parents. It’s all my fault. I begin to sob, the man laughs manically.

“Here you go son, use the needle to make the pain go away. Just put it in your inner arm and push on the back. You know, if the world was different I’d say don’t but there is nothing waiting in this world but pain. So why not feel some pleasure for a little bit. Just try it and you'll see what cloud 9 is like. And if you want to continue, meet us down the river.”

He threw the needle on the ground and the three walked away. I stared at that needle through my blurry vision. I couldn’t move as I agonized over the life my parents lived for me to be here. The world I thought was a lie. I began to feel numb, I started losing my breath and I couldn’t get it back, I was breathing so fast but no air was coming into my lungs. Everything went dark.

I heard Mom “Don’t you think about touching that thing or else you’ll be grounded for a full calendar cycle. The time I had with you beat any pleasure this drug ever gave me. I did not clean up my life for you to dirty yours.”

My vision returned and I was on the ground, the sun was starting to set, I saw the needle and there was no one nearby. I looked at the needle and held it for a few minutes. A world without pain? Paradise in this world of pain, huh, you know I know pain. I know it well, but I don’t need to cause more pain to my parents. I hurled it into the water, and went home.