THUMP

“Aaahhh—Goddammit.”

My face somehow met the wooden floor. Well, it was pretty obvious why. I uncharacteristically rolled out of bed—literally.

I struggled to get up while fighting the sleepiness, and once I did, I groaned while rubbing my temple.

Great. Now, I won't be able to go back to sleep. Once I’m up, I’m up. There’s no going back.

The confrontation kept me awake the entire night. That one sentence stuck to me like a tick, sucking away my peaceful sleep.

The City of Ionia isn’t this happy paradise that your people imagine it to be.

According to the man, it wasn’t a happy paradise because of SCAR. Those bastards were the reason the world’s like this. Those power-hungry freaks were smiling away, their stomachs inflated, while we were doing dirty work.

If they were gone, would the world be better? Was SCAR really the problem, or was there more to it? If there was more to it, then would it be possible?

No, no, it had to be. I was adamant to believe otherwise. I’d poured my entire life into this. Even though the impossible stared at me numerous times with a defeating pressure, I still managed to crawl my way through. So how different could this new impossible be?

I didn’t have the answers, but I wanted to know one thing:

How different would this world be without SCAR?

With my eyelids heavier than boulders, I waddled my way over to the door. I delicately moved my finger along the unique arch carvings that Owen made as decor, giving it a little push.

I yawned without care as the door slowly sprung open, rubbing my eyes, which wanted to rest in the dark. My arms instinctually moved to cover my chilly body.

“Dammit. I completely forgot to get more firewood yesterday. Whatever, I’ll just send Roger once he's home.”

The days got colder as winter approached. How disgusting. I despised the cold, mainly because I painfully grew up with it. One would think someone would become accustomed to it, but nope, not me. My body wasn’t meant for it.

Speaking of Roger…

He was sleeping on the floor with his bag as a pillow. Why the hell was he sleeping on the floor? He had his own room!

Whatever, I’ll ask him when he awakes. If I remember.

I walked around the cabin without a purpose. The sun drenched the trees in bright orange as it prepared for its daily job. It was way too early for them to be awake, so I guess I’ll just lie on my bed.

As I headed back to my room, the most repulsive spike of pain shook my toe. I groaned, squatting while I held my pinky toe. I had the urge to scream my heart out, but then I remembered I lived with other people.

My toe took a death strike from the edge of the table. It felt like jumping off a cliff and landing directly on my toes, and my legs were locked straight as I landed.

Even though my pain tolerance was higher than the norm, a stubbed toe never failed to create an internal explosion filled with rage and screams.

I took a deep breath and steadily got up, shaking my foot a few times. Something caught me from my peripheral vision as I limped towards my room. I looked over and saw an unfamiliar man with his eyes hawking at me. He was a slender man with noticeable bruises on his arms.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Before I could say something, his hawk-like eyes looked to be aiming at my soul. His trembling finger pointed at me, saying, “Um…your shirt is…”

Without second-guessing, I glanced down at my white top, discovering that the part that should be over my shoulder had slid down to my elbow, partially revealing my chest. A warm glow shot up my face. I quickly fixed it while bashfully staring at the wooden floor. I started to squeeze my fists shut until my nails dug into my skin.

With my entire body shaking, I raised my head. He carefully walked closer to me and assured me he hadn’t seen anything.

I couldn’t care less what he had to say. First of all, he shouldn’t even be in my place. I didn’t even know the man. Secondly, he had the nerve to say that he didn’t see anything after I caught him bluntly looking at my chest?!

I didn’t think twice as I lunged at the man, putting him into a chokehold. “Who the hell are you!” I yelled as he swung his arms like an angry child.

“I…I…c-can-t”

“What now? Are you acting like you can’t speak? Fine. How about I squeeze your neck even tighter? Maybe then you’ll say something.”

While I attempted to literally squeeze answers out of him, a familiar voice was heard yelling across the room.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Tim stormed up, charging straight at me and kicking something.

Under his feet was another man moaning in pain. Roger held his stomach as he curled into a ball.

“I’m so sorry! I thought you were a pile of clothes!” Tim said to the defenseless Roger.

“How do you not see someone as big as me on the ground? And even if I were a pile of clothes, step over it! Don’t step on something that’s on the floor! Step over it!” Roger’s voice sounded forcefully loud, which was not surprising given that he had awakened rudely.

After paying attention to the rowdy boys, I glanced at the man tangled in my arms and realized his face resembled the winter sky. I didn’t mean to choke him till that point, so I dropped him without force.

The noise was loud enough to get the arguing squirrels looking at me. Tim’s brows raised high enough for his eyes to roll out. He snatched Roger’s bag and took a cup out, throwing the cup right at my face. He charged alongside the flying cup.

There’s no way. I’ve never taught him this. Did he learn this from simply watching me teach Owen?

Right away, I knew what he was trying to do. This strategy has helped me through many battles: distract your opponent with a moving object and get out of their straight line of sight. They will focus on the incoming object and take their attention off you for a split second. That’s more than enough time to find an opening.

When done right, it’s an effective move. But when Tim does it, it’s as inept as it gets.

As soon as I effortlessly blocked the cup, his face popped right in front of me. He was getting close. I didn’t react quickly enough because I was in awe that he would even attempt that on me. There was no choice but this one.

I drilled my palm into his face, accidentally slamming his body into the floor much harder than I anticipated. I thought I heard his skull crack open—but that might’ve been the floor, hopefully.

“Shit”. I kneeled over to check what I’d done. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.” I shifted my long, tangled hair over to the side so it wasn’t in my way. I moved Tim’s head onto my lap, gently stroking his greasy black hair.

I’m going to force him to wash it after.

His uneasy breath made it seem like he was going to cry. I heard his teeth sucking in all the air within the room. He covered his face with his hands, probably so I wouldn’t see him cry.

I mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.” His hands wouldn’t let his eyes see that apology.

While I cared for Tim, I looked up and saw Roger trying to leave the main room.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

He dramatically turned his head. “Umm…to the bathroom.”

“Cut the crap!” I snapped, “The bathroom is opposite where you’re heading. Sit down right here and explain to me who this pervert is.” I used my finger as a guide.

Roger puffed out an exaggerated sigh. In the end, silent as an ant, he sat exactly where I wanted him.

“Soooo…are you gonna tell me who that pervert is?”

“Since when was Tim a pervert?”

Tim must’ve heard that stupid remark since he silently tilted his head towards Roger with a dumbfounded expression.

“Wha—No, you moron.”

He knew who I was referring to, but he decided to pull my leg instead. This man couldn’t take one thing seriously if his life depended on it.

I couldn’t believe I did, but I had to clearly point to the person I was referring to. The man passed out, still as blue as ever.

“Explain, now,” I said in a voice that even Roger knew to take seriously.