Monochromatic

Chapter 6

Azoria

There were only two more days, only two more days before I went to my first legal job. I should've been excited, content at least, but for some reason I couldn't seem to find it in me. I was afraid, and yet I always was. Ever since I left that jail to live freely. Ever since I desired to feel all I felt was fear. Was that all I was good for then? Well, it was really getting old. I was scared, and yet, was that normal in the people's world? Maybe, but I really shouldn't have compared myself to such cruel creatures; then again, I was working for them, wasn't I? Of course, that's what it had come to. I've been running away from people for the majority of my life, and yet no matter how far I went I couldn't escape from their control. Father was probably right, I was made to be a slave; I may look human, but I am not a person. Maybe that wasn't so bad though, I was living a somewhat decent life, right? I knew enough about this society to get by; I could fake any emotion at any given time; I had enough language skills to sound convincing when needed, and yet? People never change, they're all the same. They didn't know how it felt to start off with nothing but the clothes on your back, all of them, fortunate enough to be born with at least something. At least, they have good memories, happy memories, to hold on to.

Freedom came in to check on me, smiling at my messy hair which covered my eyes. He came closer, laying his head on my lap for a while. I decided to lay back for a bit and unwind. I could feel Freedom yawn as I slid back into my mind. How did I even get there? What made me turn that corner and find that store? Oh yes, Now I remember. I was walking home from work, my body sore and empty as usual. I was more than ready to go home that day and luckily that house was closer to my own. I couldn't help but sigh, it was pretty late out, and I began to shiver from the sudden drop of temperature. Nonetheless, I sucked it up and walked down the sidewalk. As I was about to turn the corner I noticed the silhouette of a man walking in the same direction as I. It didn't concern me at first, he was probably on his way home and it just so happened to be in a similar direction as mine. Maybe we were neighbors, but did that matter? I walked along, hoping that he'd turn a different direction than I. However, he didn't stop, and it started to freak me out. I began running, not to my house, not yet, I had to lose him first. Instead, I ran around in circles around a few places, in zig-zags even. He'd just find me again, and I was running out of energy. I became desperate, and apparently, someone else knew that as well.

The stalker finally caught up, holding me by the waist and covering my mouth. I could feel his harsh, hot breaths down my neck. His long, sharp fingernails were digging into my skin and I winced in distress. My heart raced as he took a few steps back, and I was running out of options. I didn't want it, no matter what excuse I could create in my mind I wouldn't be able to convince myself otherwise.

'No!'

'You won't!

'I won't let you!'

He took his sixth step and I lifted my legs into an arched position. I pushed back, and hard, putting all my body weight on my attacker and slamming us both down on the ground. He couldn't get up with me sitting on top of him, but he refused to let me go. It took time, but I had to pry his hands off me three times before I finally escaped and stood up. I panicked as he began standing as well. I would've ran, but something compelled me to kick him in the face and again in the stomach. Before he could react, I ran across the street to this shop. Standing in front of it was an elder man sitting in a wheelchair watching this all go down. I ignored him at first, turning away and continuing to speed off. Then, I saw what he did for me. I reached the corner and suddenly this frightening sound filled the air

Bang!

I jumped, looking back to see my attacker lying dead on the floor in one shot. A few feet from him was that man, smoking a cigarette in front of that lonesome shop, putting away what I assumed was the murder weapon. A pistol is what the people call it, or just a gun.