Untitled chapter 1
People looked warily at him and murmured amongst themselves, yet he strolled down the street without a care. Hands in his pant pockets, he walked ahead, whistling an unknown tune. To anyone else, he would look like a normal man walking along the streets if not for the hideous scar marring half of his face. The scar ran from his forehead to the chin, permanently turning his left eye a clouded shade of white. He had never cared about covering it; perhaps the loneliness that came with it now comforted him.
He had been a shy kid for as long as he could remember, not liking attention. But how that has changed now? He turned from hating attention to revelling in the dark aura the scar brought. All in the span of one single night.
The people in the town all had different opinions on that particular incident, claiming he was involved in illegal businesses, some going as far as claiming the scar to be a byproduct of worshipping the devil. A few, mostly teenagers, compared him to Nick Fury, saying he was attacked by a cat. The latter always managed to get a good laugh out of him. But no one knew the real story, and no one might ever be. He learned his lesson a long time ago while being interrogated by the police. At least they had been more understanding than the townsfolk, blaming everything on hallucinations caused by anti-depressants.
According to them, it had been a child trafficking racket, and after a few failed attempts at explaining the truth, he, too, succumbed to a more believable one. After all, who would believe a shy 16-year-old loner, claiming to have been kidnapped by a cult, who wanted to sacrifice him for some ritual?
He could still remember that night clearly. It was twilight when he was heading back home from his regular visits to the library. He couldn’t wait to get home and dive into the fantasy world trapped inside those bundles of pages) safely tucked away in the little backpack he carried. He was so distracted by his excitement that he didn’t notice the muted footsteps until a pair of large hands covered his mouth and waist, seizing him and dragging him away from the tar-covered road. Any number of books that he had read up till then couldn’t have helped him. Eventually, his mouth was freed. But he knew screaming for help was futile, as the road was deserted, more so at this time of the day, yet that was all he could think of. Before he could get a chance to react, his head was hit by a heavy object, effectively knocking him down.
