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Riyan's POV...
With a jarring, electrifying jolt, I shattered free from the trance-like state that had held me captive, my mind foggy and disoriented like a shipwrecked vessel emerging from a thick, impenetrable fog.
I burst forth from the Closet, its confines suddenly feeling suffocating and oppressive, like a vise grip that had been squeezing the life out of me.
I spun around, my eyes darting wildly, and then I turned and ran, my small legs pumping furiously like pistons in a well-oiled machine, propelling me forward with a desperate, primal urgency.
As I exploded out into the night, the cool, crisp air slapped me in the face like a cold, wet towel, snapping me back to reality and leaving me gasping for breath. I didn't dare glance back, fearing what unspeakable horrors I might behold, my imagination running wild with dark, twisted possibilities.
I fled down the deserted street, my heart pounding in my chest like a jackhammer, threatening to burst free from my ribcage at any moment, my breath coming in ragged, staccato gasps that left me lightheaded and dizzy.
The streets of New Creek were eerily, unsettlingly empty, the only sound being the echo of my own frantic footsteps, which seemed to reverberate off the buildings like a death knell, tolling out a dire warning to anyone who might be listening.
I didn't know where I was going, only that I had to escape the unmitigated horror that lurked behind me, its presence still palpable, like a dark, malignant shadow that threatened to engulf me at any moment.
The darkness seemed to closing in around me, suffocating me, and I knew I had to keep running, no matter how exhausted, how terrified, how utterly lost I felt.
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Third-Person's POV...
As Riyan turned the corner, the faint, flickering lights of the local police station materialized in the distance, like a beacon of hope in the dark, desolate landscape of his shattered world.
With a surge of newfound optimism, he sprinted toward the building, his legs screaming in protest, the muscles aching with exhaustion, as if the very fibers of his being were crying out for relief.
The pavement beneath his feet seemed to blur, a kaleidoscope of colors and textures, as he devoured the distance, his heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat of desperation.
He burst through the doors, slamming into the reception desk with a force that sent shockwaves through the air, the sound echoing through the station like a gunshot.
The officer on duty, a kind-faced man named Officer Roy, looked up in surprise, his eyes widening in alarm, as if he had been jolted awake from a deep slumber. The fluorescent lights above seemed to flicker in response, casting an eerie, otherworldly glow over the scene.
"Riyan, what's wrong ?" Officer Roy asked, his voice laced with concern, the words dripping with empathy, as if he could sense the depth of Riyan's despair. The tone was gentle, yet firm, like a comforting hand on a trembling shoulder.
Riyan's words tumbled out in a frantic, jumbled mess, a torrent of terror and grief, as if the dam of his emotions had burst, releasing a flood of anguish. "My parents...they're mu-muddered...the man...he killed them...he took them away from me..." The words spilled out, a chaotic, incoherent jumble, as if Riyan's mind was racing to keep pace with the horror that had unfolded.
Officer Roy's expression changed in an instant, his concern morphing into alarm, his eyes flashing with a sense of urgency. He quickly called for backup, his voice firm and authoritative, the words crackling with a sense of gravity, as if he was summoning an army to respond to the emergency.
The sound of his voice was like a clarion call, a summons to action, as the station erupted into a flurry of activity.
Within minutes, the station was swarming with officers, all rushing to respond to the emergency, their footsteps echoing through the corridors, a symphony of urgency.
The air was electric with tension, as if the very fabric of reality was vibrating with the weight of Riyan's tragedy.
As they sped to the residence, Riyan sat in the back of the police car, his mind reeling with the events of the night, the images flashing through his brain like a macabre slide show.
He couldn't shake the image of his parents' lifeless bodies, their faces frozen in death, their eyes staring blankly into the void.
The twisted face of the monster who had taken them from him haunted his every thought, a specter of evil that lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike again.
The police arrived at the house, their sirens blaring, a cacophony of sound that shattered the night air, their lights casting an eerie, otherworldly glow over the scene.
Riyan watched, numb, as the officers swarmed around the house, their guns drawn, their faces set in determined lines, as if they were preparing for battle.
The killer was gone, vanished into the night, leaving behind a trail of death and destruction. But Riyan knew that he had not escaped, for he had created a new identity, a new persona, in the form of Riyan himself.
The boy was left alone, a seven-year-old orphan, his world shattered by the brutal hand of fate, his innocence lost forever.
As the night wore on, Riyan was taken to an orphanage, his small body wracked with sobs, his heart heavy with grief. He couldn't understand why this had happened, why his parents had been taken from him, why the world had been so cruel. The questions swirled in his mind, tormenting him with their silence, like a chorus of whispers in the darkness.
The orphanage loomed before him, a cold, imposing structure, its walls seeming to close in around him like a prison. Riyan felt like a small, lost soul, adrift in a sea of uncertainty, his future shrouded in darkness.
The tears streamed down his face, a river of sorrow, as he mourned the loss of his family, his innocence, and his childhood.
"That Day, Riyan Lost Everything....
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Next Chapter "33. Riyan's Past Life...[4]"
My Readers, please leave review and comments as well as Powerstone and Golden Tickets...
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Try If You like My Other Novel
"Villain : The White Washer"
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Good Day....
Lone Raut
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