Remember what? There isn’t anything to remember. Except maybe how the fuck you ended up in this grungy nowhere. You decide to ask the boy next to you - he knows your name, maybe he knows more.
You look over, but he’s fading into the abyss. The look on his face is unsettling - you can’t place a finger on it. Guilt? Helplessness?
No, it seems far worse than either of those.
Sorry for the sudden lack of posts! My hours at work got tripled, I’m working full time now, so I haven’t had the chance to work on this. BUT I SHALL. I’m hoping to update tomorrow, but we’ll see. TILL THENNN ~
You still can’t hear him, but … you feel like he must be saying your name. Which is odd, you’ve never met him before. You tell him this.
He looks a little hurt.
Too busy inspecting your hands, you almost don’t notice the tugging at your shirt. The cool air on your abdomen alerts you, though, and you glance down, then up. You feel sluggish.
Oh. It’s that boy from the hallway.
Wait, hallway? You don’t remember a hallway. There is no hallway.
You shake the thought from your head and look at him. He seems to be saying something. His face is … strangely familiar. Despite the way he’s looking at you - concerned, a little anxious - you feel comforted by his presence.
You find yourself in an unfamiliar place, an unfamiliar room.
There’s blood on your hands, and you’re not sure who it belongs to. You think that maybe this should bother you, but it doesn’t. The hair rises on the back of your neck despite your determination to be nonchalant - where are you?
Yeah, yeah, you’re on it.
The boy next to you seems to have finally realized that his tie is messed up. He’s trying desperately to fix it before you open the door, which, admittedly is taking a while so he should be just fine.
You reach for the door handle. This seems awfully suspenseful, even for your first day. You’re starting to wonder if something isn’t going to happen. Maybe it’s a class full of monkeys, and they’re going to experiment on you - or maybe you’ve been selected to be spies for the government, which is why they sent you to military school.
Or maybe you’re just avoiding going into your first class on the first day of your first year of military school because you’re LATE and there must be SERIOUS FUCKING CONSEQUENCES, you mean, did you see those GUNS? Not to mention that fucking BARBED WIRE CONCRETE FENCE.
Yeah, you’re definitely avoiding it.
