In Secrecy, Dear. (Pt. 1) | Act I: There is No End

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I remember. I remember that day we met. About a couple of moons ago, I walked out of my home, hoping to find something to do. Was the idea to find some folk to make fun of? I'm not quite certain. For what it seemed like yesterday grew way farther than I thought it was.

It's almost like if my mind was trying to forget and cherish that day at the same time....

Strange....

I can almost see why.

On that day, I walked by the streets of London, simply looking a way to pass the time. Not like the idea of living in a muddy, cruel world wasn't boring.... but it wasn't fun.

Suddenly, I heard the angry voice of a man, yelling at someone, saying:

"Hey, there he is! The brat that had taken away my meats, not a while ago!"

I paused.

I didn't want to turn around, in the idea that any other kid would've done the same.

A lot of children stole from the marketplace. This butcher could've easily misintepreted me for one of those children who live by the corners of the streets.

He must've.

But I digress... I didn't believe he did. Because the second I stopped, I heard the heavy, frantic footsteps of what could be one hell of a beast the man could be. My suspicions were only resolved once I heard...

"You stay right there, you dog!"

That's it. That's all I needed to know before I started booking it. I just ran as fast as I could while the man continued to yell at me, seemingly managing to keep up.

As I jumped through shafts and in between cramped hallways, I raced across the streets, running like those horses I saw down the enterances to the town.

At this point, I had thought that the man was no longer chasing me or just couldn't keep up with me since I no longer heard his voice.

But I wasn't risking it. I still heard the heavy steps, emitting itself across the block.

I had thought that he hadn't given up on catching me.

So I wasn't going to give up on running away. As I started to slip through the corners again, I noticed that the ground was getting much more... humid. Wet. I only thought that it was going to slow me down.... But alas, if only my head wasn't racing like my body was.

After cutting through these corners, I find the floor much more waxed, in a way. I started to lose my bearings even more. But I was still in the rush. I couldn't stop. And so eventually... I slid across a corner that I really couldn't slid across. Instead of my feet building up the traction it needed for me to change direction, it instead slipped, causing for my body to fly across the floor until I hit the bloody floor.

Head-first.

And oh God.... did it bloody hurt...

Upon hitting the ground, I started to hear this... this ringing noise. It was SO LOUD. I couldn't stand it once I started to cry. Even that was muffled, with the ringing taking over the ears. At the same time, I couldn't focus my eyes, man. All I saw was the ground were just halluciations of the same muddy ground I just tripped on. I tried to get up, but my head... My head seemed to be just too heavy.

My arms felt all... wobbly. I couldn't hold myself up for even a second.

The pain... it was unbearable. Unlike what you would usually believe, I barely got hurt out on the streets. The last time I did, it was a much more inexperienced me that caused that pain.

Right then and here? I caused this. And I just couldn't help but to cry for both the pain and for the sheer stupidity I had just displayed in front of many people.

So I thought:

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER.

...At that moment, I was like one of the bodies decaying right there, in the corner of my eye, in that dull, and broken hallway.

There was no life in their eyes. There was no soul lingering there.

All there was a broken body in a broken hallway, being decomposed by disgusting insects.

They must've died from the plague or by someone else.... They could've also taken their own life.

It wasn't uncommon to see that people have commited suicide. The pressure of always living in fear just keeps amounting and amounting until eventually, you break like if you were always made out of glass.

It eventually happens to all of us. Some are much more sturdy than others. Others are just waiting to break.

I don't know where did I fit there. All I did know was that I should've just died there. It wouldn't even have mattered if I did. It's not like anyone would remember that I existed. If anything, I'm just unecessary weight.

My mother would just continue to take care of the house without me. My father wouldn't even care. Not like he cared for us much, at all.

For a while, I just laid there, broken and in dispair. My head felt much better but I refused to stand up. What was the point? What was the point of even doing it anyways when I'm always destined to fall?

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Footsteps. I could only hear footsteps, walking all around me, further supporting just how little anyone cared for a random dead person.

I may not have been dead yet, but I might as well should've been.

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"Excuse me?"

I heard a voice, fairly close by.

I thought nothing of it at that moment.

It sounded like a girl. Probably arguing against some man that tried to pick her up or something.

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"Excuse me? Are you alright there?"

The same voice. This time, it sounded much more direct.

Just like with the butcher, I now thought,

'I think she's talking to me.'

Slightly, I moved my face from the dirty surface and tried to find who was talking to me.

After some adjustments, I identified a girl right in front of me, seemingly worried about my injuries.

But, she was rather strange to me, so I replied:

"What do you want, ma'am?"

Her head rotated quite a bit. She was observing me. How pecuilar.

I assume that I did the same thing because she kind of giggled when I did.

Inspecting her, she seemed like a fine maiden. A mix of blond and brown hair, with a gentle and a light face, affected only by a touch of makeup. Her clothes were just as clean, with a bright red dress. There wasn't much I can deduce out of this. But I could deduce one thing:

She was from a noble family. You could tell from the clothes she wore and the scent she emitted: it was perfume.

I cautiously looked at her, being wary of what she would say and do. I didn't want no trouble and I wasn't gonna try to piss off a noble's daughter.

She then replied:

"Are you alright there, mister? You seem to be hurt. Your head..."

As she said that, I touched my forehead, going through the dark-brown hair of mine. Withdrawing my hand, it seemed to be filled with a dark fluid, mixed with a little bit of mud.

However, I didn't want to seem weak or vulnerable. Well, I was but....

So, as I tried to stand up, I just said, "I'm alright ma'am. It's only a scratch or something."

She seemed suspicious, still looking at my head, which I could only assume was slightly dripping with some blood.

"Are you sure you don't need help? I have some cloth at home that I could use to treat your wounds." She suggested.

I did feel quite ill but....

I was rather about to decline but then, I started to feel a little light in the head. I started to trip out; my brain suddenly became so heavy and awake.

"Uh..." I couldn't say no. I knew back at home, there was barely anything we could use for wounds. The only cloth we had is what we wore, which would be considered as rags, in fact.

I had no choice.

"Alright then. I guess I could use a fix." I relucantly replied.

The girl nodded and helped me stand as we walked through the streets, at the velocity of a sloth.

As we spent many minutes, steadily troting through the ugly streets, I could start to see something change. The houses started to look much nicer and cleaner. The smell of rotting flesh were replaced and the mud... the mud start to feel much more like concrete.

It was rather odd to me.

Was this a different life I just entered?

I got the answer to that question once we stopped in front to a home. The home was filled flowers, gaudy pottery and... it just smelled so fresh.

It was... the life of living as a noble.

But why was I still wary about this?