DECODE

DECODE: chap 3- who am i?

The light was really bugging my eyes, so i forced them open, groaning from aches in the most random places. my leg. My right fore-arm. My head.

I sighed, then slowly took in my surroundings.

I was in a cold, gray, dark alley way, propped up against the wall oppesite a disgusting- looking trash can. I stood up on shakey legs, groaning, again, as i streched my muscles. I walked over to the big trash can, and the second i opened the large rubber top, i almost yelpt, but a hand came out of no where, reaching from behined me and pulling me back as the top of the dump slammed shut and humungous beast i think was a dog contiuned snoring away.

"sssshhhh," He hushed loudly in my ear, I yelped and tried to push him off, just to have him slam me painfully on the ground, and in a flash have a small but still deadly pocket knife on my throat. It wasn't being pressured much, but I shut up...

"You need to shut the hell up!!" he commanded, and when I didn't say any thing, simply glaring at him, He took the knife off my throat and stood up.

A moment later, he offered me a hand and I stood up, groaning once again.

"So who are you?" he questioned

In that moment, everything came crashing down on me like a bucket of cold water.

"Who.... Who am I?!? Wh-where are we?!? Who are you?!? Who.... What....?!?!?" I say, I look at him in desperation, hoping he has the answers I don't know. I was hyperventilating now. I was shaking, and what's-his-face wasn't answering me.

I sat down before I passed out.

The man looked at him in desperation *what the hell? He doesn't know who he is...* he thought feeling extremely bad for this man... *he must be...*

"Well, I can answer one of those's questions... Around here I'm known as 'The gross hobo', but my name is Denver." he said, attempting a joke no one laughs at, "I'm afraid I don't know the answers to your... Other questions... But maybe you have an I.D. Or a clue as to who your are in your pockets...?" he said, slowly, carefully, the tone tickled the back of my mind, but I couldn't put any pieces together.... Check my pockets....

I put my hands deep into my pockets, but unfortunately, I only pulled out a $5 bill, a few pennies, a paper clip, and some fluff. In my back pockets, there was nothing but a small, folded piece of paper.

I opened it, and it said:

'Stick with Denver. Follow your instincts. These together can do more than you think.'

Well then.