"Huh!" Chiron slowly opened his eyes. His head ached a lot. He felt like he had just been hit by a moving bus.
"Was that a dream just now!?" He asked himself. However, he felt sothing moving on his face and looking to his left, he saw the immature face of a two-year-old.
She had a paintbrush in her hands, hands which were also stained with different colors of paint. The mont she t eyes with him, she dropped the paintbrush in panic and ran out of the room.
"Shit! It wasn't a f**king dream." He face pald. He felt an intense urge to cry. "Absolutely anywhere, even hell would have been better than this ssed up book."
He tried his best but could not hold them in any longer. The tears strted to fall and run down the side of his cheeks.
"This had to happen when I finally made it?"
And he was right. He had transmigrated when his life had just gotten better. He did not even have the opportunity to enjoy it to boredom.
As he silently wept, he could not help but rember how it all ca to this.
Chiron was an orphan in a different world. All the caretakers at the orphanage said he had been dumped at the doorstep of the orphanage in the middle of the night.
Growing up there was far from easy, there were never enough of anything to go around. He had to learn different trades just to live a sowhat satisfying life. He lied and cheated his way on a daily basis just for survival; it was not at all an easy ti for him.
As if the hand fate dealt him was not enough, he was given yet another blow.
The dreams started when he was around twelve. They were always of a different world, a place he had never been nor seen. It was a mystical world with beasts one would only hear about in fantasy stories. At first, just like any kid his age, he was fascinated by these dreams and shared them with others.
Growing up, however, was a necessity for everyone and before long people started to think he was crazy. Even the caretakers at the orphanage said the sa thing. With ti, he too started to think it of himself. He would sleep at night and would see through the eyes of a different person in a different world.
When he awoke, he would be brought back to his world and soon enough, differentiating the real world from the one in his dreams was seemingly impossible. After all, he was not only seeing through the eyes of the other person in the dream world but was also feeling the person's pain and a multitude of other sensations.
Sotis, those sensations would linger into his waking hours, it was distracting, to the point he beca a walking problem to all around him. He would be seen in a corner muttering to himself, and on multiple occasions, would not eat and even abuse drugs to make sure he stayed awake.
He also beca prone to extrely violent tendencies.
While most people enjoyed sleep, it was a nightmare for him; he dreaded it. A nightmare he did not want to et. The caretakers were worried for him, so much so that they created an opportunity for him to begin therapy. In the end, therapy only made matters worse. The only thing he received in return was a long list of prescribed drugs that on several occasions nearly took his life.
Soon, the orphanage got tired of him. Paying for his bills was only draining their pockets and depriving the other kids of needed resources. He was kicked out to the streets where he had to fend for himself. Under rain, snow, or sunshine, he hustled. Bringing to play those little skills he learnt from the orphanage to put food in his mouth.
Yet, it was not enough. He had to engage in all sorts of odd jobs anyone could think of just to get scraps. So days it was good but on others, he would have to resort to stealing food from rats.
All this happened to him and still he had to face the tornt of the other world whenever he closed his eyes to get so rest. At a point, he accepted the term, Madman but, on a fateful day, he told his problem to a fellow holess person. A young girl that at the ti, had fallen ill with cancer.
She would bug him to tell her stories of his dreams and he would. To his surprise, she enjoyed the stories he had to offer. For her, they were the light in her slowly darkening world.
After a while, he had no choice but to write his stories in a book for her to enjoy. Over ti, having dreams about the other world no longer seed like such a bad thing.
One day when he was at his daily hustle, she took his book to a publishing company. This was sothing that made him angry when he found out. To his surprise, the publishing company looked at it, and had even requested for the full book.
He was elated.
This was the turning point in his life. His book, although very lengthy, got a royalty contract. It was loved by many and soon made it to the big screens. Unfortunately, there were quite a few undesired occurrences involving his young female friend and although he had made a lot of money from the book, he was unable to save the life of the one person in the entire world that truly cared for him; believed in him. Her cancer had reached a stage that she could no longer recover from, and life cruelly stole the one person that did not call him Madman.
His book made it to the big screens, having an ani and movie adaptation however, the book had a twist at the end. The protagonist died, and in the most brutal way imaginable.
This made fans extrely angry. Angry enough that he had no choice but to hold a press conference on the matter. When asked why he killed off the protagonist, he simply said that it was not his business.
In truth, he really did not consider it to be. As far as he was concerned, he had made his money and after living a terrible life for so long, he wanted nothing more than to enjoy his wealth.
However, the fan that had asked the question was not very satisfied with his response and actually pulled out a gun. The guards tried to stop him but it was too late.
A bullet right in the chest was all it took to end it all. He did not even have the opportunity to enjoy the satisfaction of what he had worked so hard to achieve.
More than anything, Chiron hated this world. His life was ssed up because of it and now, he had been plunged into it against his will.
As the waterworks flowed down to his chin, he noticed a beeping icon. He tried to touch it but found that he could not. Yet, every ti he turned, it was right in his line of sight which ant that it was not on the wall or the ceiling.
He really desired to see what the icon was and as soon as that desire arose, a screen opened up.
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