A soft breeze nuzzled against Colter's neck as he sat motionless staring at his computer screen which stayed open on the Steam homepage. He felt an inexplicable helplessness as he did so, as if he had a open tap in his body that slowly leaked out his energy. Slowly, he turned his head to gaze through the window, watching as the tree outside swayed slowly in the summer wind.
Staring down at his phone, he hoped to find the satisfying 'ding' of a notifcation appear on his phone. He had sent out a few messages, yet nobody had responded. People were busy, sure. He got that, but he couldn't help but feel a tinge of annoyance. It would've been nice to get at least a reply. It was almost like they barely remembered he existed.
Colter knew he could probably make better use of his time, he could've probably gone for a walk, clean his room, or study, but for whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to do anything except sit there listlessly. He glanced at the time on his screen, 2:50 PM.
Alright.
3:00pm. He would start studying at 3.
He picked up his phone to pass time and immediately regretted doing so. His friends had apparently gone out. Without him. His mind rushed instantly to multiple conclusions. They were avoiding him. Maybe he was annoying. No. Perhaps they just thought he was busy studying. But he couldn't push away the disappointment in his chest regardless. It felt as though he was being left out more and more lately...
Rapping his fingers against the desk, he let his mind wander. He felt like a background character in a book, someone who only serves to give the main characters some sort of character development before disappearing. Was there a point in fighting for their attention? They already saw through him like air. Perhaps fading out of their lives would just save them some awkwardness.
Colter suddenly jolted out of his trance, rubbing his slightly moist eyes. He hurriedly checked his watch. 5:06pm. He cursed under his breath as he quickly scrambled for his homework, yet staring at the empty piece of paper made him feel nauseous.
He'd do it tomorrow.
Flopping onto bed, too tired to care, he slowly drifted into a deep sleep.
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Colter awoke the next day, his morning routine a blur, he barely remembered brushing his teeth. Heck, he couldn't even remember what he had for breakfast and walking to school. Frowning, he strained to listen to the teacher talk but it almost felt like the teacher was talking through an old radio. One that buzzed with a static that seemed to drown out everything else. Everytime he closed his eyes, he felt himself spiralling, before he jolted awake, finding the lesson to have skipped a few minutes.
Trying to distract himself, he turned to his left, hoping that his friend would offer him some relief from the lesson but found that he was preoccupied talking to someone else. Come on... Deciding not to interrupt the conversation, Colter turned his attention back to the lesson, his eyelids slowly drooping as he strained to keep them open. He stared at the clock, desperately hoping for the class to end sooner.
His day seemed to pass by in an incessant blur of grey, until he found himself walking out of the school with his friends. The sidewalk was loud with chatter and the clatter of shoes. The summer sun spilled golden rays onto the footpath in front of them. The air was filled with the faint smell of bread and petrol. And for a moment, Colter almost forgot the weight in his chest. His friends were laughing. Joking. The sun was warm. It almost felt like he was belonged. Perhaps his thoughts were unfounded.
Then, he heard wind rushing towards him. Colter turned just in time to see it veering off the road. He had a split second to decide. His friend looked like he would make it, but he wasn't sure.
Tossing his concerns to the side, he slammed himself into them, sending them sprawling to the pavement as a sharp pain spread across his left as he tumbled in the air, before landing on his feet, stumbling forwards trying to gain his footing.
Turning around, he spotted his friend sprawled on the ground everyone crowded around him. He was clutching at his ankle. A minor injury in the face of the car. 'That's good', Colter thought to himself.
He felt his strength sap suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch in his body, silently finding a spot against a tree, he collapsed to the ground, staring at the group crowded around his friend.
Ah. Ah. Why did I even do that?
The thought pounded in his head.
Nobody had even spared him a glance. Was this how he was going to go out?
He shut his eyes, and smiled.
'What a stupid thing to do'.
If he got another shot he would remember to keep his head down and play it safe. No hero bullshit.
Faces flickered through his mind, friends who forgot him, teachers who overlooked him. Then his family. His mum. His dad. Their tired eyes and hopeful smiles.
'Maybe this is better. Maybe I'll save them the trouble.'
Colter opened his eyes to take one last look.
"What the hell?", he muttered. The voice didn't belong to him. It sounded oddly smooth, yet timid. Like the voice of one of those famous singers.
His arm or rather, someone's arm, was raised, pointing a piece of cold iron at a man cowering next to two headless corpses. A mess of crimson lumps was splattered across the wall which slowly dripped down like wet paint. The coppery scent of blood wafted through his nose as if assuring him that all of this was real.
"P-Please don't kill me sir."
Colter rubbed his eyes. 'Fuck, is this real?! Did I transmigrate like in those books?' He looked at his hands, they were calloused and steady. The revolver in his hand was heavy. Heavier than he'd have thought. It had red embellishments of all sorts of weird runic symbols that spanned across it's silvery body.
"Y-you won't find the police right", he stammered, unsure of what to say.
"No, no! Sir thank you so much, you are so merciful-so merciful!" the man cried out, tears flying from his eyes as he grovelled at Colter's boots.
Colter couldn't help but think in subtle disgust, he felt his stomach curl but he couldn't tell if it was from the corpses or from the man's actions, or if it was from the thought that appeared in his head. It was a terrifying and compulsive thought. He couldn't trust him. After all, the man wouldn't care about him. He'd definitely find the police after. Smiling as he watched the police beating him with a baton.
Perhaps he should silence the man. After all, dead men told no tales...
His finger tightened around the grip of the revolver. He couldn't do this.
"Shit."
His back seemed to drench itself with sweat despite being on the opposite side of the barrel. He didn't want to do this. But he had to get rid of this guy.
He breathed deeply.
"I'm sorry."
Colter squeezed both his eyes and the trigger tightly.
"NO-"the man's scream was abruptly cut as the revolver kicked him backwards, as the mans head bloomed into a beautiful crimson flower. The revolver kicked him back a step, yet that wasn't far enough avoid the bits of warm red that splattered onto his body. Retching, he turned around and fell onto all fours.
He should've done it from further away.