Chapter 10

I may have fallen asleep peacefully but I definitely didn't wake up that way, oh no. I didn't wake up the birds chirping or the sun glaring in my eyes. I woke up to voices and I could hear them loud and clear. "Claimed!" I heard one of them yell in the distance and then, there was arguing. I heard a lot of yelling as I formed a plan in my mind. My best bet here was to climb higher in the tree. Up there, just a few extra meters, the foliage was thick that I wouldn't even be able to see the bottom. Anyways, none of them were small enough to make it up here to me. I made it only about three feet before I slipped. I began falling, desperately grabbing onto branches and trying to keep myself up. Finally, halfway down, I felt a huge yank on my shoulders as I finally caught a larger branch on the tree. I knew I was covered in scratches and cuts but my adrenaline was so high that I wouldn't even notice until later. I climbed back up that tree faster than ever before, the urgency in my brain yelling at me to hide. I sped up even more when I hear the men yelling about something else.

"Did anyone else hear that?!"
"Yeah man, is someone else here!?"

Shit. I sat shock-still in the tree now. I became a literal, living statue. These guys gave me a bad vibe and if they found me, I was certain I would be killed, or worse. The men were quickly checking the area for any sign of being followed or spied on (so basically, they were looking for me). You messed up El! You totally messed up! They're gonna get you now! No! I'll be fine! I'm too high for them to see me! But they definitely heard you and that means they'll find you! I will be fine! I can do this! Pushing my thoughts aside, I held my breath as a large group of terrifying looking men (I was right to hide from them) passed under the tree. They looked up but my dark clothes camouflaged my small frame within the branches and foliage. I didn't move for a long time after they left, the terror still fresh in my mind. I slowly let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. That was when the pain set in.

I looked down at my battered body. I was a total mess, covered in scratches and leaves. It was almost instantly that I noticed my worst injury. A long gash ran down my side. It wouldn't need stitches but it was definitely going to need some sort of first aid. I'd also be pretty immobile for a while. Walking, I could do, running was out of the question. My biggest problem right now was getting out of this tree. This was going to hurt. Every step I took down onto a branch sent another jolt of pain shooting up my side. It took everything in me not to cry out. Those guys could still be near enough to hear me yelling. I found a small branch and bit down on it. That gave me something else to focus on besides climbing down the tree. When I finally reached the bottom, I collapsed on the ground in exhaustion, the burning from my injuries threatening to steal my consciousness from me. After a few minutes, I forced myself to stand, knowing that in order to fix myself up, I'd have to at least set up a small camp.

I slung my bag over my shoulder again (with great difficulty) and started walking. It wasn't so bad once I got going. Eventually, I made it to a clearing and before I could stop myself, set up the simple can alarm system and made a small shelter out of branches and bushes. When I finally sat down, the pain rushed back in. I cringed as I began bandaging up my wound, a few tears slipping over my eyes without my consent and dripping down onto the ground. I wanted Clary so badly right now. I wanted my parents. I wanted my grandparents. Someone who cared about me. I was desperate for some sort of company. I felt so alone, so vulnerable, so scared. I had no one anymore, I was hurt, hungry, cold and alone. I was losing hope that I would make it. I didn't want to make it anymore. At this point, it seemed like I would be better off as a walker. Better of dead. At least I'd be happy. I wouldn't be in pain and I'd see my family and Clary again.

I couldn't help it as more and more tears slid down my face and quiet sobs escaped my throat. I couldn't help it when I was trembling from the cold and laying alone and helpless in my tiny shelter. I couldn't help it when my eyes shut and I dreamed of being dead. I couldn't help it when I woke up and was disappointed I hadn't died in my sleep. Nevertheless, I got up that morning. I checked my string of cans, ate half a can of fruit, and took down my shelter. My wound seemed to have healed up a little in the night. It still hurt to move but walking wasn't so bad anymore. Running was still out of the question. That could prove to be a problem. It took me a long time to do stuff that would normally take less than 30 minutes. As I finished packing up my things, I came to a realization. I'd never make it anywhere feeling so sorry for myself. I had to be strong, like Clary was. I needed to be brave. I had to grow up. I was stuck in a hole of self-pity and it was time to climb out of it. This was when I became a new person. I wasn't just Eliza Connors, eleven-year-old, anymore. I was now Eliza Connors, the survivor.