We Are (maybe part 1 idk)

(just random stuff, don't really pay it any mind)

Light.

   That's what I see beyond my lashes when I slowly open my eyes. Bright yellow light. I quickly shut my eyes again and instead blindly try to figure out where I am. I'm lying on my back, a somewhat soft mattress beneath me. My arms are at my sides and, thankfully, unrestrained. Something cold rests against my right hand. When I run my fingers along it, the metal becomes warmer, familiar. Feeling a small flutter of hope, I wrap my hand around my pistol and slowly open my eyes, trying to get used to the light. That's when I hear the whispers.

They come from just beyond the foot of the mattress, and, by the way they speak softly, they are unaware of my awakening. I open my eyes and quietly sit up, pulling my legs in so that I sit protectively on the mattress. About ten feet away stand two humans, one dressed in all white, the other in an outfit of purple and grey. 

"What do you think it means?" The woman in purple asks the man beside her. He shakes his head.

"It could mean anything." As he says this, he turns to me. When he sees me perched at the end of the mattress, his eyes widen. The woman, too, turns, and when I wrap both hands around the grip of my gun and aim it at the man, she gasps in alarm. The man raises his arms and says simply, "We mean you no harm."

I don't even blink; I only stare. I keep my eyes on the man while the woman casts worried glances between the two of us. Both are silent until the man finally says, "Can you understand me?" 

I raise an eyebrow at this and glance at the woman questioningly before focusing back on the man and saying, "Of course I can understand you."

He looks relieved, and I find this slightly odd, seeing as this man still has a gun trained on him. Instead of pondering this, I get to my point.

"Where am I?"

I take my eyes off of him and take a moment to glance around the room. The walls are a dark brown color, and a single window displays darkness beyond. 

"Is this Earth?"

Slowly, the man nods. I decide that he's not a main threat and lower my pistol, moving to the window. In the dark, I can make out shapes. Piles of rubble, broken buildings, ruined homes. Some human bodies, even. 

"What's left of it," the man says solemnly. 

I turn to look at him, and for maybe the fifth time in my life, I wish that I could openly show emotion. But I know that what the man sees now is the same apathetic gaze I give to everything and everyone, dull grey eyes and a permanent straight line of a smile.