Well stumbled upon his knees. His eyes had never been this open before. His cheeks, they never felt as hot as this before. And his lips, although he could not see them, he was sure they were pale and dry. He was blinded for a second, and his vision went all out-- totally pitch black, like everything had been wiped out of his horizon. Clouded by nothing but emptiness, his ears suddenly disfunctioned. He tried to get up and stand on his knees, but the nausea he felt was so strong it seemed like an earthquake had struck his head really, really hard that he still felt an aftr shock that was a lot stronger than the actual shaking itself.He remained down on the ground-- aceepted the fact that it was too impossible for him to recover considering the fact that he was being discombobulated by the sound of blazing bullets and roaring shouts.Until minutes and minutes had paased, his senses slowly went back to normal. The first to funcation again was his sense of smell-- his noose. It instant
“Run, Well, run!” Allen Mar shouted as they heard a series of bullets fired against the sky. “Don’t look back! Just run!” Drowning in the sea of tall and vast corn plant leaves, Well and Allen Mar struggled for their way out of the cornfields. The soldiers must have heard Well when he squeaked, giving away their only chance of escaping out of the place. And now, as the two of them ran for their lives having no accuracy of which direction to head to, Well’s heartbeat intensified and Allen Mar’s breathing went rapidly high. “Oh, my God! What have I done again this time? I am such a fucking time bomb. An idiot!” Well yelled to himself as his feet pedaled as fast as they could, along with the streaming of tears on his face that had long been settled. “Let us not think about that now. You can blame yourself later when we are done with this mess,” Allen Mar replied, as he glanced very quickly behind them only to see that the soldiers had been performing their offensive position where in
When Well returned to his hotel room, it was already six o’clock in the morning. Students who were admitted to the same hotel as his were already suited in their respective uniforms and were all prepared to take off sooner or later, while him, on the other hand, was yet to dry his clothes out. He was untidy, filthy, and messy, and it was visible just from his eyes alone that he was so tired and had not had enough sleep. Well yawned as soon as he arrived at the doorway of the hotel. The people inside looked at him with disgust as if he was some kind of rubbish picked up from a rubbish bin– because to be clearly honest, that was how he indeed looked like. Doreen was the first person to notice his presence and did not ignore him like the rest of the tenants did. “Well! Oh, goodness gracious. Where have you been? I have sent a staff last night to deliver your dinner but he said your door was locked and the lights were off. And look at you now, all messy and dirty! If your Dad knows about
Doreen was the first person to notice Well's presence and did not ignore him like the rest of the tenants did. “Well! Oh, goodness gracious. Where have you been? I have sent a staff last night to deliver your dinner but he said your door was locked and the lights were off. And look at you now, all messy and dirty! If your Dad knows about this, he will surely going to blame me for not keeping an eye on you!” Doreen said as she tried her best to lower her voice so that whoever would hear her will not think that she was scolding the young man. Meanwhile, Well was so tired and so exhausted he barely heard a word vividly from his old man’s old friend. Instead of answering to her or catering to her concerns regarding him, Well walked over and ignored Doreen. He was not in the mood for some small talks. And despite everything that he and Allen Mar and Detective Deib Anchorman had been through in even less than a night, a simple ‘how are you’ will never better anything. As a matter of fact,
Well yawned as soon as he arrived at the doorway of the hotel. The people inside looked at him with disgust as if he was some kind of rubbish picked up from a rubbish bin– because to be clearly honest, that was how he indeed looked like. Meanwhile, Well was so tired and so exhausted he barely heard a word vividly from his old man’s old friend. Instead of answering to her or catering to her concerns regarding him, Well walked over and ignored Doreen. He was not in the mood for some small talks. And despite everything that he and Allen Mar and Detective Deib Anchorman had been through in even less than a night, a simple ‘how are you’ will never better anything. As a matter of fact, Well believed it only made the situation worse. The detective was dead. Allen Mar, his best friend, lost contact with him. So basically, it was now just him wandering over the New Bill City and facing the chaos or whatever there were again all by himself– like in the very beginning where there was absolutely
Well sluggishly walked to the elevator, and elevated himself to the floor where his hotel room was located. At this point, everything was annoying him. Everything was keeping him from being the good old Well that he was. He knew it was not because of the lack of sleep, or of the exhausting running away for their lives. What annoyed him was the death of a dear friend. Detective Deib Anchorman was just so precious to be taken away so early. Well believed he could have survived it, too. Just like what he and Allen Mar did. However, if there was a hard pill to swallow for Well, it was the fact that the death of the detective was the result of his foolishness and lack of observance. If only he looked around and had chosen a different spot to hide on, the detective would not have to do it anymore. However, it is what it is and he will forever be hunted of it. There were crystalized beads of tears falling off his sleepy eyes and damp eyelids. But who was he to give a fuck? He did not care i
Well missed what it felt like to have a sleep so long and so comfortable and so worthwhile that he did not have to worry about what could happen around because he would not give a fuck anyways for what was important was he had a good sleep. He definitely missed that feeling. If only there was a way he could have returned to that time and savor it once again, he definitely would. But that was impossible now. Considering the events that took place. The things that were lost during only a night or two. And the memories that fell down. It was far too impossible now. He had to deal with whatever mess this was that he involved himself with. With his head buried into the pillow, Well thought of another impossible thing. Him and Detective Deib Anchorman– talking. In his clouded imagination, this was what happened: Well woke up from a knock on the door of his hotel room. He brushed his eyes– they were still sore and sleepy. He unwrapped himself from the bed sheet, yawned and stretched his
If there was a hard pill to swallow for Well, it was the fact that the death of the detective was the result of his foolishness and lack of observance. If only he looked around and had chosen a different spot to hide on, the detective would not have to do it anymore. However, it is what it is and he will forever be hunted of it. There were crystalized beads of tears falling off his sleepy eyes and damp eyelids. But who was he to give a fuck? He did not care if people would see him crying while walking down the hallway. He did not care if his neighbors mock for being such a crybaby. After all, only God knows what else could he do when his temper finally go up and his patience was being measured. He witnessed innocent inmates being detained. He witnessed good people being jailed. He witnessed a selfless man being shot to death. There was nothing else that could go wrong other than those mere things he witnessed with his own eyes all in just one night– all in just one place. As soon a