the truth(49)

(The streets are empty, the cold wind biting against Michael's skin. He walks aimlessly, his hands shoved into his pockets. His mind is blank, yet filled with noise at the same time—memories, regrets, pain, all swirling together like a storm he can't escape.)

Michael (thinking, detached):

"So… this is what it feels like to lose everything."

(His friends were gone. His reputation was in ruins. The police let him go, but that didn't mean society would. Everyone whispered about him—at school, in the streets, online. He was a monster in their eyes. A violent, unstable freak.)

Michael (thinking, bitter):

"They don't know anything. They don't know what really happened. And they don't care."

(He stops in front of a convenience store, staring at his reflection in the glass. His face is hollow, his eyes dead. He barely recognizes himself.)

Michael (thinking, darkly):

"I look like a corpse."

(A group of people walks past him, whispering.)

Stranger #1 (whispering):

"That's the guy, right? The one who almost killed that girl?"

Stranger #2 (scoffing):

"Yeah. He got off easy. Should've been locked up."

(Their words pierce through him, but he doesn't react. He's too numb. He keeps walking, feeling like a ghost in a world that no longer wants him.)

(Days pass. Then weeks. Michael barely eats. He barely sleeps. He doesn't go to school anymore—what's the point? He spends his days locked in his tiny apartment, drowning in self-loathing.)

(Michael sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. Empty food wrappers and soda cans are scattered around him. His phone vibrates, but he doesn't check it. It's just more hate messages, more reminders that he's a failure.)

Michael (muttering, empty):

"What do I even do now…?"

(He's tried distractions—video games, mindless scrolling, even alcohol. But nothing helps. Nothing makes the pain stop.)

Michael (thinking, hollow):

"Maybe… maybe I should just disappear."

(He looks at the bottle on his desk. He could drink until he blacks out. Maybe he wouldn't wake up this time. Maybe that would be easier.)

(But then… he notices his laptop, still open from weeks ago. An old document is on the screen, completely blank. It was supposed to be an essay for school. He never wrote it.)

(A thought enters his mind, uninvited.)

Michael (thinking):

"What if… I wrote something? Not an essay. Just… something."

(He hesitates, then slowly moves to the desk. He cracks his knuckles, places his fingers on the keyboard, and… nothing.)

Michael (frustrated, sighing):

"What the hell am I even supposed to write?"

(But something inside him tells him to keep going. So, he does. He types the first sentence. Then another. Then another.)

(At first, it's nonsense—random thoughts spilling onto the page. But soon, a story begins to take shape. A fantasy world, one far removed from his own miserable reality.)

Michael (thinking, intrigued):

"What if… someone like me ended up in a magical world? No baggage. No past. Just… a new start?"

(He keeps typing. Hours pass without him realizing. For the first time in weeks, his mind is focused on something other than his pain.)

Michael (smirking slightly):

"This might actually be fun."

(Weeks turn into months. Michael writes obsessively, pouring everything into his story. At first, he doesn't care if anyone reads it—he just needs to keep going. But then, something surprising happens.)

(His story gets views. Then more. Then more.)

(Comments start appearing.)

Reader #1:

"Yo, this is actually really good."

Reader #2:

"Damn, I wasn't expecting much, but this is amazing. Keep going!"

Reader #3:

"Main character kinda reminds me of myself. I feel this."

(Michael stares at the comments, heart pounding. People actually… like it?)

Michael (thinking, in shock):

"They don't know me. They don't care about my past. They just care about the story."

(A new feeling rises in him. Hope. Maybe—just maybe—he isn't completely worthless after all.)

(The memory suddenly shifts. The present fades, and the scene rewinds, pulling everyone back to the past.)

(Henry and the others, who had been watching the memory unfold, suddenly find themselves in a new setting—Michael's old bedroom, the night he started writing.)

Henry (frowning, confused):

"Wait… why did we go further back?"

Jack (crossing arms):

"Yeah, weren't we watching his success? Why are we seeing this part?"

Dakota (calm, watching intently):

"Just watch. You'll understand soon."

(The memory shows Michael sitting at his desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard.)

Michael (muttering to himself):

"Alright… I need a title. Something simple, something that'll get clicks…"

(He types the words.)

"I Reincarnated Into a Magical World."

Michael (leaning back, satisfied):

"There. Generic, but perfect."

(The scene pauses as Henry and the others stare at the title.)

Henry (snorting):

"Really, Dakota? That's so basic. Did it even work?"

Dakota (smirking slightly):

"Oh, it worked, Henry. It worked better than you'd think."

Henry (raising an eyebrow):

"How successful are we talking?"

Dakota (grinning, teasing):

"You'll see soon enough. But first…"

(His eyes gleam with something unreadable.)

Dakota (low, foreboding):

"You better prepare yourself, Henry. Because what comes next… will change everything."

(The memory resumes, but the screen fades to black.)

Dakota thinking: now well now it's the time to reveal the novel I wrote. so now it will reveal Henry and the others in the next memory will reveal all of it, the truth about this the truth about Henry and others. I wonder how they will take the news will they be mad or will they be sad will there be angry I don't know but I will soon find out anyway. God this is gonna be terrible not only do I have to deal with Henry and other, I'm gonna have to deal with my friends gaining their memories back. after this memories end I'm gonna have to deal with a whole lot of things and that's not even including the war, god damn me man I can't wait for all of this thing to get over with. Man i really can't wait for the things to get over with truly.