Prologue
Third person's pov
The sky thundered with storm. The winds were harsh, carrying everything away with them. The rain poured down angrily, pooling in the streets. The roads lay in an eerie silence.
Everyone was already home, as the government had issued a red alert a day earlier to prevent people from going out.
It was midnight. The moon was nowhere to be seen–hidden with dark clouds.
A dark figure walked, directionlessly.
An old man who was rushing inside his small home, stopped by his tracks. His wife screaming at him from inside to hurry up.
“Hey, young man! Don't roam around in such weather! Do you want an umbrella?” He yelled, the sound of raindrops overshadowing his sound.
But he was sure that the boy heard it.
Because he turned back—looking directly at him from a distance.
Another thunder roared.
The boy's face that was covered under his black hood shone by the lightning for a moment before everything became dark again.
The old man narrowed his eyes, waiting for a response but—nothing came as the boy continued walking away. Another lightening flashed, and his eyes caught the sight of a ‘Z’ written on the boy's back.
“Kids nowadays.” He grumbled before going inside.
Meanwhile, the boy kept on walking.
His hood clinging to his wet body, his eyes watching his own steps, the water splashing through them.
His phone rang against his pockets but he ignored it.
The rain only poured heavier.
His feet took him to a relatively brighter area.
He looked up.
His eyes squinted inside the hood, a lean figure of a boy appeared.
He was running. Towards him. But his focus was entirely on his phone, attached to his ear.
The boy was running right in his direction but he didn't move aside. His eyes fixed at the barely visible figure.
Five.
Four.
Three.
The boy was still running.
Two.
“Mom, I'm almost there-”
One.
The boy collided on his chest.
“What the-”
Another thunder. Another lightning.
The boy's eyes were hazel. His eyelashes damp. His white shirt translucent, barely hiding anything.
“I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention.” He hurried to explain, not paying attention to him before running away.
“Yes, mom. Don't worry-” his voice was now distant, that he barely heard the whole sentence.
His dark eyes fell over the shining metal in the pool of dirty water.
His fingers twitched.
He bent down to grab it.
A keychain.
A doll with big eyes, red cheeks, and red lips hung over the ring of the keychain, it reminded him of the boy's face… even if what he saw was a mere glimpse.
He clutched it inside his fists. The metal felt colder against his numb palm.
Robotically, he turned behind, his gaze flickering from the rubber doll to the boy running away.
He tucked the keychain inside his pocket before walking away.
