So You'd Like to be an Adventurer?

Prologue

Richard was quite an average young man that had just gotten out of high school, and like all young graduates, his dreams were beyond college or university.
He dreamt of adventure. To explore the world, see new lands and experience all those places had to offer, but as all young people do, he quickly discovered the insufferable wall that only a lucky few surpass; Money. Yes, he, like many before him, lacked the capital needed to fulfill his dreams.

So, like any sensible graduate who skimped out of college, he got an underpaying job.
He got ripped off on rent for a sub-par apartment and spent the following year living off of instant noodles and TV dinners that barely provided the nutrients that he needed to survive, but despite all this... Richard never lost hope.
He firmly believed that he would eventually work his way to financial stability and then press forward to fulfill his dreams of traveling around the world.

Such bliss naivety.

One night, after an exhausting day of work, he returned to his second-rate apartment to discover it unlocked. His tired mind did not care about the obvious discrepancy, he hastily entered his abode, slamming the door behind him. He then made a beeline for his bed.
Such was his daily ritual.
His eyes shut even before his body had made contact with the bed.

Within moments, he heard a scuffling coming from the bathroom.
Weary and exhausted he chose to ignore it, writing it off as simply a domino effect of him having bumped something on his way in. His exhausted mind filled with thoughts of dread that he would need to clean up the mess later, unfortunately — or perhaps it was fortunate — his thoughts were cut short by the distinct unnatural creak of the bathroom door opening.

He opened his eyes only to find himself staring at a man, who's eyes, in turn, stared back in panic and confusion.

Richard had only then, through his hazy vision, realized the state that his apartment was in.
His books and clothing scattered across the floor.
Clothing drawers lay toppled far from their wooden confounds, their contents spilled around their landing zones.
His eyes now fell upon the foreign entity in the room; the intruder.

He was a tough and rugged looking fellow.
The man was wearing a brown leather jacket that showed it's many years of service through discolouring in select areas.
He sported tattered and torn grey cargo pants with many tears having been patched using fabric darker than the pair of pants themselves.
The man's appearance was one that could easily be said to be an alley-dweller's, but what caught Richards attention most was the pair of shoes that the man wore; they were without a doubt HIS sneakers, the tomato sauce stain on the left shoe's arch proved this fact.
While he attempted to reel himself back from his momentary confusion that was caused by such a bizarre situation, it dawned upon him that the man in front of him was a burglar.

He got up in a fit of anger, and before he could fully consider what he was going to say, his body had acted before him, and he accusingly shouted at the man, “Those are my shoes!”
He pointed at the blue sneakers in question, but as his gaze trailed after his finger, he froze in place.

In the man's hand was a knife.

Richard, like any sane person, had a healthy fear of being stabbed, and an even healthier fear of dying. His instincts were screaming at him to run... To get as far away from the dangerous man as physically possible, but he found himself unable to move.

“Boy, you've seen my face. I-” the man had attempted to say something, however his words had only triggered Richards legs to kick into motion. He bolted for the door, running faster than he had ever ran before, the man ran after him shouting, “Stop!” but Richard did not stop. In fact, he ran faster.

The distance to the door was a mere 7 meters down a narrow corridor, so naturally one would be hard-pressed to come to a stop once they were in full sprint within that short of a stretch, and like any panicked individual would, he kept looking behind him while making his dart for the door.

He crashed right into the hardwood front door of his apartment, his body stung all over.
He moaned in pain while plastered against the door, then just as one would expect him to fall backwards away from the door and towards the ground, he was assaulted by a hefty force to his back that halted his fall and sent him into the door once more.

*** Intruder's Perspective ***

In an attempt to stop the homeowner from leaving, I had made a dash after him, my intentions were to grab the scrawny man and knock him out before skipping town with as much as I could carry, but reality never goes as planned.
The young lad had run straight into the door!
It was unexpected, but seeing as I was hot on his heals at the time, I suffered a full on collision with him, sending me tumbling to the floor.

However, I reacted before the young man could even register that he had been used as an airbag and I sprung to my feet, grabbed and turned the dazed man to face me, I then pinned the scrawny man's arms to the door behind him. Curiously there was no resistance, I simply took it as a sign that the man had given up, but I did not lower my guard at all and moved both the limp arms above the newly acquired captive's head and held them there with my one hand. I then used my other hand to grab at the man's throat and shoved him against the wall in an effort to scare him further into submission.

However, what I had not expected was for the man to cough a mouthful of blood into my face.
I was thoroughly confused at this, but I looked down to find that the kitchen knife I had been carrying was no longer in my possession, but instead the bloodied tip of the blade was sticking out of the scrawny mans chest.
The realization hit me like a truck.
I had crashed at full sprint against the man, and accidentally stabbed the knife into his back, and in my attempt to intimidate the man by shoving him against the door I had inadvertently plunged the blade even deeper into the man's back, causing the blade to peek out of his chest.

*** 3rd Person's Perspective ***

The intruder let go of Richard's arms and neck and backed away slowly while claiming his innocence, “I-I didn't mean to... It was an accident!” Without the man's assistance, Richard fell limply into the sweet embrace of the floor.

A soft thud reverberated throughout the apartment as his face met the floor, however he did not feel any pain as one would expect.
No, he only felt relieved that he would not have to stand anymore.
Even the warm feeling of his blood leaving his body through the gaping wound was slowly beginning to fade as his body became cold.
His vision began to grow darker as he struggled to maintain consciousness.

He felt his legs being kicked out of the way of the entrance, and he heard a barely audible “sorry”, followed by the muffled bang of a door slamming shut.
Those were the last things he heard before there was silence...
He was alone.

As he lay there bleeding out in the silent, cold and dark corridor of his apartment, he realized that he was dying.
He did not feel scared at the prospect of dying.
In fact, he did not feel much of anything.
However, there was one thing he did feel a lot of; It was regret.
An intensely burning regret that he had been unable to fulfill his life long dream of traveling around the world, to see new places and go on grand adventures.

As he drew his final breath, a single tear ran down his cheek and made contact with the cold floor.
His vision faded to complete darkness as his body ceased to function.
He had died.