Daquan Ain’t Never Gone to Thrad

Daquan slowly opens his eyes and realizes snow is coming down. He lifts up his head and looks around only to notice himself laying down in the snow and funny enough after seeing the snow he instantly becomes cold. But as he looks around he also sees the blood on his shirt and hoodie still wet and dripping onto his body. As he goes to feel the wound he lifts his hand and gazes upon his father's gun he had used when robbing a house for the first time in his life. In his other hand what was a knife is now a short sword that seemed to have magically appeared.

Daquan exhaustedly attempts to sit up however he instantly falls back down laid out with a plop for a few minutes racking his brain on how everything that's happening

After a short break to relieve some of the fatigue and misbelief of being shot, stabbed, and downright fucked up he finally gets up, puts the gun and sword off to the side and watches them slowly sink into the soft, cold, white snow.

Finally having time to think runs his hands all over his body touching his two wounds in panic but to his surprise the blood that is slowly freezing is only dripping from his shirt and hoodie his wounds which would leave a normal person scared are closed and all that's left are scars. "That's weird I could have sworn it just happened, how could it possibly be closed already?" Daquan whispered to himself as he traced the scars and checks the rest of his body hoping nothing else happened to him.