CHAPTER 8

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I'm on episode eight of Attack On Titan and things are escalating rapidly

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I'm on episode eight of Attack On Titan and things are escalating rapidly. Right now, there's this new titan and it's different from the others. It has green eyes and is kind of … it's kind of… it's kind of handsome. I mean, of course the biggest point is that it's killing the other titans but it's appearance also holds some importance.

Suddenly my show pauses and the speakers switch on. Son of a biscuit! What in the-

A female voice floats through the speakers, cutting me off before I invent a new slur. “Good Morning ladies and gentlemen, this is one of your flight attendants speaking. I would just like to notify everyone about the current arrangement of the schedule. Food will be served shortly then each Number will get a chance to freshen up. Afterwards we will be serving lunch at three p.m. then dinner will be served at six p.m. Three hours before arrival time. Thank you.”

The speakers switch off and my show starts playing. Agh, my whole mood is ruined.

My face screws up into a deep frown as I continue watching the episode. These people are confusing, one minute they're shooting us the next they're treating us like VIP passengers.

After some time, I relax back into my seat and tune back into my show, fully immersed in it once more.

After some time, I relax back into my seat and tune back into my show, fully immersed in it once more

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It's only been a few minutes back into the show but my face is already wide with shock. Eren Yeager just came out of the handsome, I mean abnormal titan. He just crawled out of it. How- A tap on my shoulder shifts my attention away from the show. My eyebrows draw close together in a frown. Irritation bubbling under my skin.

I pause my show and turn to face the person who had the nerve to disturb me while I'm watching Attack On Titan.

I turn my head to the right and my eyes immediately land on a tray full of food. The smell suddenly hits my face. All my irritation and previous thoughts float away as I focus on the food. My stomach starts aching again at the sight of the food.

“Good morning, Number 142s.” The flight attendant says. I slowly move my eyes upward and take her in as she speaks. She has brown hair which is tied in a tight bun at the base of her head while her face looks wiry and aged, she's probably in her late fifties. Other than that she seems like all the other flight attendants and workers. Unnatural.

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