The boy did not like people. They surrounded him, the difference in their color, stature, and clothing nauseating. They shuffled around, bumping into one another to steal the belongings of one another. The towering rusty buildings cast ominous shadows over the streets, those shadows hiding an ominous presence in every corner. The boy stumbled on his feet, still clumsy to walking. People bumped into him like many others, but he had nothing. They always sighed and huffed in annoyance at the boyâs poverty. He had been walking for so long. This third trek, combined with the other previous two, exhausted him. His lips chapped, his eyes heavy, the boy kept on. His conviction kept him walking, but his body was failing. The world was spinning faster, faster, slower, and slower. The people around him shouted at him for knocking into them, his stumbling taking him left and right. He looked down at his feet. As long as he could imagine one moving in front of the other, they moved. The ground seemed to bend under him, threatening to rush up to meet him. He needed to find a wall. Yes, the wall would guide him just like it did out of the maze he woke up in. Cutting through throws of people, each grunting in protest, he made his way onto a wall. The world shook and sounded more violently now. Falling into an alleyway, the boy lost consciousness. Finally, the boy slept in this new world that he had found himself in.
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âHello-oo! Hey, wake up! You're in my turf, you dirty loser! Are you dead or something? Get! Up!â The boy woke to a shabby girl nudging him with her foot. A perturbed look on her face, she continued to prod him and yell at him for some unknown reason. The boy tried to get up, but his weak limbs did not allow him to crawl to his feet. âHey hey, you canât be THAT weak, can you? For virtueâs sake, move your butt!â The girl kicked him again when the boy was getting to his feet, a little harder than the poking earlier. This caused him to fall over to his back, the rough ground biting into the boyâs skin. He could see the girl clearer this time, as the sun illuminated her features better. She had pale green eyes, curly fiery red hair covered in a grimy hat, and freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. She had on faded clothes, and an equally dirty tan jacket. The boy could also see that her face was not angry anymore, a sad look on her face. It was as if she pitied him. Waitâ¦Pity? The boy, for some reason, hated pity. He did not know why he hated this. Why? Why why why whyâ¦there. It was his old self. She somehow knew that he was not him. His lack of memories, his lack of self. She had her memories, she had herself, and he did not. She somehow knew this. The boyâs face contorted in anger. Something dark stirred within him, something hungry. He would take her memories, he would take her self, he would take it all to get himself back. To make himself complete. To satisfy his hunger. He lunged, but fell. All the boy could manage was falling down on his back once more. His head hit the pavement, causing him to bite his tongue. Blood was drawn and flew out of his mouth. He wasâ¦weak. Like the girl said, he was weak. He could not even get up, he could not even take back what was his, he could not even fulfill his goal, his ambition. âUmmâ¦â The boy opened his eyes once more and looked at the girl. âAre youâ¦ok?â The girl looked uncomfortable, like she was doing something for the first time. âIâ¦canâ¦help youâ The girl knelt down. The boyâs eyes widened. The girl took a deep breath, and announced the best words that the boy had ever heard since waking up in this new scary world. She wiped the back of her hand on his mouth, cleaning the blood. âMy name is Rika. Iâ¦can be your friend.â For the second time that day, the world seemed brighter.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.