It was a rainy day, Eizit walked around with steady steps, his toes hurt, practically unable to breath, gasping for air.
He had to keep running.
He had to keep going.
He couldn't look back.
He would die if he did.
No, he just could do one thing.
He could only run.
If he looked back, he would die, they would catch him, he knew it. He breathed heavily, trying to get some air, he coughed up aggresively, he was denied air, but why, by who? Was this how he was going to die?
Eizit kept on, took a right turn, then ran straight, took a left one, maneuvering through the dark alleys. His mind raced with thoughts, but he couldn't stop to address them, if he did, he'd slow down, and if he slowed down, he'd die. So he kept running. And running. And running.
...
"You can't escape from your thoughts"
A voice ringed in his head, who was it? What did it want? He could escape from his thoughts, he could escape from the ones following, he could, he could, he could, he could!
...
He couldn't.
"Why are the streets so empty?" "This is a big city" "Why is no one here?" "Why do the alleys never end?" "Why do I never reach an exit?"
The thoughts were too many, non-stopping, overwhelming, they clouded his mind. There went his rational thinking.
"You slowed down" "You are done for" "You are dead" "They got you" "Why do you keep trying?" "You can't escape"
"SHUT UP"
The thoughts ended.
Abruptly.
...
Everything was now quiet. He slowed down. He stopped walking.
Then, a loud thump was heard behind him, he looked back. It was a high man, what you would call a Berserker in a fantasy world like Dungeons and Dragons. It was his reality check.
(Thump, Thump)
Was that his own heartbeat?
(Thump, thump)
"You should not have stopped running you little sneaky rat!"
(Thump, thump)
The thoughts came back (thump, thump) "Run you idiot!" (thump, thump) "Run you moron!" (thump, thump) "Stupid kid, run!' (thump, thump) "Dumbass kid, run!" (thump, thump) "Run if you don't want to die!" (thump, thump)
He ran away, fast, steadily, away from the man- No, he tried to, however, his legs didn't respond, he was exhausted, the adrenaline that kept him walking disappeared after the voices shut up earlier. Perhaps if he had kept them running on, he would be still running now.
(Thump, thump)
It didn't matter, the kid was done for, the Berserker's mace approached him, a wooden one with spikes on it, the spikes had blood, Eizit was not his first target of today, it was a gross scene.
(Thump, thump)
Eizit took a deep breath, and prepared himself for it, death had got to him... And he had nothing to do but accept it. The mace approached him, and approached him, and approached him, and then it stopped.
(Thump, thu-)
Kidding!
(...)
It didn't, he was brutally hit by it, his skin ripping away, his body leaving a loud "thump" as it hit the ground.
(...)
Everything faded to black, it was really the end, he was going to die... His brain showed him one memory, he grinned his teeth... How ironic.
(...)
***
"If you had just 1 life remaining, and had to choose between saving another one's life at the risk of putting yours in danger or leaving that person behind and live a peaceful life, what would you do?"
Eizit laughed, for a couple seconds, before looking back at the old man, who was dragging his pant as he asked him the question.
The old man seemed to be a beggar; he had beige trousers that seemed to be old, very old, with holes all over them; he had a white shirt with stains of food, with cuts that seemed to have been made with a knife, or perhaps a sword, and with burn marks, (probably some rich kid who tried out their noob level fireball spell on the poor guy); he had a grey jacket, with signs of once being white, though right now it is far from then; lastly, his shoes, they were brown, his originally white socks (now black) showing off the hole each of them had on the front.
Eizit replied to him, not focusing on the face of the weird old man at first.
"Well, first off, I have 9 lives remaining, going down to 1 is highly unlikely to happen..." — Eizit shrugged — "However, hypothetically speaking, if it happened, I'd probably just move on..."
The old man let go of his pants, he laughed loudly... It was then when Eizit focused more on the old man's face, he had barely any teeth remaining in his mouth, the few that survived to this day were yellow or half broken. His tongue was of a pink going to white colour, he probably was suffering of dehydration, maybe severe, maybe not... But no, that was not the interesting part, neither was his poor treated hair, at least the parts that remained in his head. No, the interesting part were his eyes, which Eizit noticed after the man stopped laughing.
The man's eyes were deep, like an endless void. They were caved into his face, however, despite their darkness and deepness, on the middle of them seemed to shine bright a light, a judging energy that survived up until this day... this man was different, and Eizit could feel it, but he didn't want to address it. In the deep of his mind, however, he knew the man's words meant something, perhaps he knew himself way worse than that man did.
***
(THUMP, THUMP)
He wasn't dead, not yet. He was breathing, barely, but stilll breathing.
The man was no longer there, he had left, a trace of blood from Eizit, which probably dripped down his mace, marked what direction the guy went towards.
Eizit took a deep breath, then coughed, the injuries were painful, breathing hurt. He tried to stand up, but it also hurt. Everything hurt.
He looked around, the alley he once was on had changed, it seemed less darker than earlier. And... He could hear footsteps far away.
It clicked, he had been in an illusion all along. The reason he didn't see anyone was because his senses were affected in order to avoid him from seeing them.
All the time he had been thinking he was running away from them he had been instead running right where they wanted him to be.
Maybe his thoughts didn't actually make him die, but to get closer to a street, and therefore maybe being found.
All he had to do was scream, ask for help, and if he did, they would find him.
He opened his mouth, he screamed for help, but words didn't come out... He couldn't speak, the pain was too much... He would die there, alone, despite being so close.
He clenched his fist, if he hadn't tried to save that one girl he would be alive now. Was the girl alright at least? If she was, that meant he would have died for a reason.
"WHO CARES!?"
The voice rang in his head, it was the same that told him he could listen to his thoughts... It was himself, but a rational self.
"Who cares...? You mean who cares about me, right? She probably has people that care about her more than anyone cares about me"
The words didn't come out, he was just thinking them, but the voice was himself, so it replied just fine.
"Okay, fine, then just drop dead"
He smiled, looked at the sky, the night sky, a star shined bright up there, he wondered if that was a good sign.
"Yeah, I'll just do... It was a good life, I don't know why I did it... But if I could choose to not do it, I would do it again."
The voice in his head sighed.
"The Hero Syndrome"
Then everything faded to black, for real this time, he had died.
...
(THUMP, THUMP)