Chapter 1

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[Look at my Instagram atlas_scribbles if you want to find what their uniforms look like]


The uncomfortable slick feeling of sweat coating the back of his neck felt like burning alcohol wipes. It came with the short breaths and trembling hands that sat clapped over his mouth as his other hand curled around the sheets and blanket to serve as useless stress relief.


He hasn't seen that boys face in years.


The air stinging his tongue tasted like sulfur. The disgusting bite of acidic air felt like breathing the residue of chalk erasers freshly used than emptied in your face. It was too similar to the way his uncle's house. Except it wasn't sulfur, it was cigarette smoke he cringed at as a child. Still, that pungent, smoky flavor assaulted the air.


Shuichi couldn't place the emotion. He couldn't figure out if it was fear, sadness, or pure hatred. Whatever it was, it was such a strong emotion. Anything like this, that had him coughing in repugnance. It must be painful for the other. Every morning he woke up with this hideous smoke polluting the air. It faded eventually. But the slap in the face every morning was always unpleasant.


He rubbed his face, taking in the reality of his skin and how he was still alive. As cold as he felt, he was still warm. The dream- or more so nightmare, wasn't new but hasn't been as vivid as that either.


It's been five years, Shuichi Saihara, a sorry 'orphaned' boy who lived with his 'parents'. The world around his decaying mind had changed so drastically. One day he was an innocent child, the typical youth that disregarded staying warm. That fell too much, that loved when his mother gently placed bandaids on his bleeding knees.


He loved her. He loved his father. He loved everything about his life. Since everything was perfect. He was great at math, reading, and behaved well in primary school, and all through elementary school.


The murder of his true parents rendered him in a year-long shock. Like the robots that started surrounding him. He did as he was told, didn't question the adults that hurt him. He stopped laughing and cried a lot more than he could remember. Of course, that happens when he's alone.


Now, sixteen years old. He's still a mess. Shuichi believes that he was wrecked emotionally and developed too many bad habits that led to minor sicknesses due to poor care in mental health.


He glanced at the clock. The clock, which was a large metal box placed beside his twin-sized bed. It had no drawers but still called a bedside table. On the top side of the table, was a rectangular screen. In the screen was the time, in bright glowing red pixilated numbers. The time read 5:58 am.


Shuichi sighed. He looked around his uneventful looking room. Black, grey, brown, sometimes white, and bloody red. All those colors made up his world. His room had one bed against one wall in the middle. Along with one window with the black curtains always drawn closed. Other than the small closet next to his door, the hamper next to the bedside box-table, the rest is empty walls and dim lights.


Soon his alarm would go off. The same alarm everyone has. Wasn't it 6 yet—?


"Rise and shine ursine! Good Morning everyone! I hope you had a fulfilling rest! Time to wake up and greet the day! It is currently six o'clock for you! Get ready for a day of learning and profitable social experiences with your friends!"



He leaned over to touch the screen button that would shut it off. Still exhausted, he got up and quickly set his bed as he had been for five years. Since he had a routine to upkeep. Today was slightly different, only slightly. Because of yesterday being the last day of summer.

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