[Diana Perspective]
My story began many years ago. I used to live alone with my mother and father, in a quiet life not perfect, but beautiful enough. We would eat together at a small table in the kitchen, laugh while my father carried on his back and spun around the room, and my mother would watch us with a soft smile I still can’t forget to this day.
My father worked in the police departnt in our district. He was a calm man with a stern face, but at ho, he beca soone entirely different. Warm, kind, and when he called my na, his voice made feel completely safe.
Our life followed a simple routine. Father left for work in the morning, and Mother stayed with at ho. Sotis she’d take to the nearby park, where I played with the neighborhood kids while she sat on a wooden bench, watching from afar. Other tis, we’d visit neighbors or go buy bread from the local bakery.
The neighborhood we lived in was incredibly beautiful. It was surrounded by trees, plants, and colorful flowers. The air was always fresh, carrying the scent of wet grass.
My father’s close friend visited us from ti to ti. He was a large, cheerful man who often ca with his wife, Mrs. Nimal, and their son, who was two years older than . He and I would play all around the neighborhood running between the trees, racing through the alleys though I always noticed he didn’t enjoy playing the sa way we did. He was quiet, preferring to do risky things, like climbing trees. But his mother always forced him to play with us anyway.
Days went by, the sa as always until that day. That day, I was playing outside with a group of children when I saw him from afar. He ca out of his house carrying a large black bag. My curiosity wouldn’t let stay still, so I followed him quietly, watching from behind the trees. He kept walking until he reached the large wall that surrounded the area.
Then I stepped out from my hiding spot and asked:
"Where are you going?"
His eyes widened in clear surprise. He quickly replied, trying to hide the bag behind his back:
"Nothing... I was just taking a walk."
I eyed him suspiciously and said:
"Then why are you carrying that bag?"
He took a deep breath, trying to hide his nervousness.
"There’s nothing important inside. Go back and play with the others."
I replied stubbornly:
"If you don’t tell what’s in it, I’ll tell Mrs. Nimal everything."
He frowned.
"No! Don’t tell my mother that..."
He sighed, then forced a smile and said:
"Diana, do you want to go on a little adventure?"
I rember my heart jumping with excitent. I answered imdiately:
"Yes! Of course I do!"
He exhaled deeply, then gestured for to follow. He took my hand and led to a hidden corner of the wall, covered by thick bushes. He crouched down, pushed the branches aside, and revealed a large hole in the wall.
He looked at and said:
"Through here."
I hesitated at first, but curiosity got the better of . He crawled through first, and I followed him under the wall. When I ca out the other side, it felt like I had crossed into another world completely different from the one I knew.
The city I was familiar with was behind , and in front of stretched a vast land filled with gray, decaying buildings. I had never seen anything like it before.
Before I could say a word, I saw my father and his friend from the corner of my eye. They exited through the main gate, both wearing the sa police uniforms my father wore every morning.
Suddenly, the boy covered my mouth with his hand and whispered quickly:
"Be quiet!"
We hid behind a thick tree trunk as my father and his friend crossed the road and climbed into a black carriage waiting for them. I watched silently until the carriage disappeared from sight.
Only then did the boy exhale in relief and say:
"That was close."
I asked curiously:
"What is this place exactly?"
He turned his head, looking toward the horizon where the buildings stood.
"This is the Outer Zone or at least that’s what I like to call it."
I repeated the phrase:
"The Outer Zone?"
He nodded.
"Yes. My father used to bring here sotis when he was on duty as a police officer. Most of the ti, I’d see him talking to n with bulky muscles, faces covered in scars, and tattoos all over their skin. But my mother hated it and eventually forbade him from taking with him."
He went quiet for a mont, then lifted his head proudly.
"But I found my own way out in the end."
I didn’t fully understand what he ant back then, but I was thrilled to discover this new world standing before .
He pulled a bunch of worn out cloaks from the black bag, handed one, and said:
"Put it on."
I took the cloak and looked at it for a mont before putting it on. It was clearly handmade, stitched roughly and unevenly, its edges intentionally torn, and the hood was stained with dirt and dark patches.
I didn’t ask any questions. I just wore it. Then he gathered the rest of the cloaks, stuffed them back into the black bag, grabbed a handful of dirt, and threw it at my face.
I froze, shocked, but he did it again this ti tossing so on my shoes.
I was about to protest, but his serious look stopped .
He said firmly:
"If you want to co with on this adventure, you have to do this. Or you can go back. I’m warning you it’ll get much worse if you keep going."
I swallowed my response and decided to endure it. When he saw my determination, he slung the bag over his shoulder and started walking toward the opposite area. He kept an eye on the guards near the distant gate, moving only when they turned away.
Luckily, the buildings on the other side weren’t far from the wall. Once we entered that area, I saw the cracked, distant buildings, the shattered windows, or ones boarded up with wood. The streets were filled with holess people in torn clothes so lying on the ground, others leaning weakly against walls. I didn’t see a single plant or patch of grass anywhere.
He motioned for to stay close and said quietly:
"Don’t look around. And don’t talk to anyone."
I nodded and kept walking beside him. We crossed the street until we reached a large, abandoned factory. Its walls were cracked, and we slipped inside through a hole in the back wall.
Once inside, the boy raised his voice and called out:
"Adam! I’m here!"
His voice echoed across the place. A few monts later, another boy appeared from atop a pile of iron scraps. He jumped down to the floor he was about the sa age, with long, ssy hair and tattered clothes.
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