Roth and I spent the afternoon exploring Portsmouth. He seemed to know a fair amount about the place, despite explaining that it was his first time ever being there in person. To me, the small city felt too crowded, too dirty, and too busy. But Roth was different. He seemed to thrive with so many people around him. However, I could tell that he made others feel uncomfortable.

As we walked, others seemed to steer around us. Maybe it was the pristinely white robes or the way that he seemed to stare when someone met his eyes. Roth loved to challenge people, and when he felt like he wasn't in a situation with enough conflict, he sought it out. I got shoved back and forth as I kept up with Roth—but as before, people seemed to know better than to nudge him.

We walked away from the water, further down into the center of the city. It was just as easy to see the change in people as the change in the buildings. Both were more and more rundown. The city had felt vibrant with sound and stench alike by the water. But in the center of Portsmouth, there was only the latter. Things got quieter, and my arms began to prick with goosebumps as I felt eyes watching me from the shadows.

Some of the people milling around were only half-clothed. One woman leaned against what must have been a tavern with her breasts exposed. She looked at me with blank, uninterested eyes. I looked away, feeling my cheeks flush. Somehow, I had envisioned my first view of breasts to be different.

Some people hunched around burning fires, and some entered taverns or inns where the signs barely had any paint. A man came out of a building close by us—one without a door, adjusting himself in his pants while cinching his belt. The building read "The Green," but the rest of the sign was unreadable and broken off. The man caught me staring at him, and he stared back.

I looked to Roth, avoiding the man's unnerving gaze, wondering why we had come to this part of town. Roth motioned for me to follow him, and we moved beside the rundown tavern. Along its side, there was a gap between it and the building next to it. He motioned again, and we moved on into the alley in between.

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I looked down the alley, but there wasn't much besides a dusty shape slumped against the left wall. Apart from that, the alley was empty of anything but discarded tankards, used bowls, and rotting food.

Roth went over to the form and kicked it, and it didn't move. But now that we were closer, I could see what was inside the rags.

It was an obese man. His blue eyes were still open, and from the smell—it seemed as if he had soiled himself. The only indication of a struggle was a deep purple line across his neck.

A sudden, deep bout of nausea rose in my stomach as the stench of his corpse invaded my nostrils. I turned away from the corpse and retched.

The sound of a scuff in the dirt drew my attention away from the body. At the entrance of the small alley, a man stood.

"Howdy, boys," the man said, his voice had a strange edge to it, like he wasn’t friendly but he wanted it to sound like he was. He smiled with crooked yellow teeth. "We don't see pretty little boys like you around these parts very often."

Roth turned his attention away from the corpse to the man and regarded him. Then, without any hesitation, Roth walked up to the man and chopped him in the throat.

The man clasped both hands to his throat and fell to his knees. His eyes bulged as he began to gurgle. His throat didn't seem to work properly anymore.

"You see Milnas? This is why I like Portsmouth. It's like the real world, but more real. Everything happens so fast." Roth leaned down and put his hand on the man's cheek. The man whimpered and convulsed on the ground as he struggled to breathe. "Kill before you get killed. Act before they act. And most importantly," he got up and gestured around them. "Don't walk in alleys."

He then walked away, up the alley from whence we came. I stood there, staring at the man. His eyes locked with mine, pleading for help. A different sort of guilty fear struck me then. I didn't know how to help the man, but I didn't know if I wanted to.

I ran after Roth. I didn’t want to help the man, but I wasn’t brave enough to watch him die either.

I often think back to that alley and the dying man. Why did Roth take me there? And what was the lesson he wanted to teach me? Perhaps he wanted to show me how cruel he was, or how quickly he could kill me if he wanted to. Or maybe it was nothing more than the game of a cruel child’s mind.