Chapter 3: Backwards

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𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒𝓇𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒.
𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓀𝓎 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓃 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈.

Sodabottle wrote on the old frail and un-sticky sticky notes with the broken pencil.
"Scenty?"
"Yeah?" Amelia said.
"When do you think we'll get out of here?"
"I-.. don't.. I don't know.-"
All of a sudden, strange noises of adjustment of a microphone can be heard.
"Hey guys.. I know it's been a while, but let's get on with the elimination."
Dead silence.

      Sodabottle's surroundings were back home, everything was exactly the same except for the broken window, papers scattered across the floor and all of his valuables being stolen. He was infuriated, confused, PETRIFIED even.
He couldn't remember his name, his life, or his mind.
But a paper sat next to his foot, stating all of what he couldn't remember.

 But a paper sat next to his foot, stating all of what he couldn't remember

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"I'm.. dead..?"
Bryce walked out of the door from his apartment slowly, with every single painful step. The complex has only been abandoned for a few months, but the place has become absolutely wrecked. Half of what was here has either been destroyed or stolen if there were anything left.
Bryce ran to the exit, as fast as he could go, until he suddenly stopped.
He had remembered something else he had forgotten.
The picture on his wall—wait. no. Not just a picture. A picture with his sister, his ONLY
sister..
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