[Raven’s Perspective]
My childhood mories have always been hazy, blurry, unclear like a mirage that only gets further the closer I try to reach it. For so reason, I always believed that my father had sold , that I never once tasted happiness. That I never knew warmth, nor what it ant to have a ho or a family.
But ever since that fight in the warehouse, ever since I woke up from that coma, old mories ca back. mories entirely different from everything I had known or thought I knew about my childhood.
In those mories, I had everything I ever wished for in my miserable short life: a family, a warm ho. But as always, even in those mories, happiness didn’t last. My mother’s strange illness, my father’s deteriorating state, and then the debt collectors who took . My life in that laboratory, those bizarre experints.
When I look back on these mories, I see how vastly different they are from the ones I carry now. And that’s what made realize sothing was off. Maybe my mories themselves had been tampered with. And only one na ca to mind: Valentine Crow. That bastard. There’s no other logical explanation for my current state. Those warm mories don’t align with the life I live today.
I tried to ignore it. Tried convincing myself that what I saw wasn’t real, that it was nothing more than a fleeting hallucination. But every night, every ti I shut my eyes, those mories returned to haunt . And with them ca the rage. Rage, resentnt, and fury that boiled in my chest whenever I thought of Valentine.
I swear I’ll make him pay for every mont of suffering I’ve endured.
***
[Jevan’s Perspective]
People, when they dream, usually see strange things, terrifying nightmares, or illogical scenarios. ? Unfortunately, my dreams decided to take a slightly different path.
For so reason, I always find myself in the sa side alley. Sa alley, sa stench, and the sa small child sitting there. A boy with brown hair and crimson eyes.
Inside the dream, I’m nothing but a ghost. No one sees , no one hears . At least I can move and watch, but I can’t interfere.
Yet I’m completely aware. I know what I’m living isn’t reality.
At first, it was interesting. But after several months of watching the sa scene, I lost all sense of fascination.
I tried wandering off, but no matter how far I walked, I always ended up back at the sa spot. So I sat beside him, silently watching as he gnawed on a stale piece of bread like it was the only thing he owned in this world which, sadly, it was.
After finishing, he wiped his hand on his tattered jacket, then slowly stood and walked toward the central square to beg for a few coins from hurried passersby who themselves looked worse off than he did.
"If you want to beg, little Jevan, you should at least beg from people who have so money, not from those poor souls."
I wished, just once, to see sothing useful. Anything that would help understand how I ended up inside this body. Or who that lunatic was who "welcod" (in a very friendly way, might I add) the mont I arrived in this world. But all I got was more glimpses of this wretched child’s life.
Over ti, I beca almost certain that this child was the original Jevan. How did I know? Simple. I’ve never t anyone else past or present with brown hair and crimson eyes but him.
I watched silently. When he sat in one of the square’s corners, the cycle repeated again.
He reached out here, looked around hopelessly there. And when one pitiful passerby tossed him a single bronze coin, he clutched it tightly in fear of being robbed. I tried to sigh, but apparently, ghosts can’t sigh.
I muttered sarcastically:
"If I’d known inhabiting this body ca with a mandatory subscription to the live stream of a holess kid’s life, I would’ve reconsidered the deal."
But, as always, no one replied.
***
[Little Jevan’s Perspective]
I opened my eyes to the sa cracked ceiling, the sa crumbling walls that looked ready to collapse any mont. Slowly, I raised my hand and held the pendant hanging from my neck. I stared at it for a mont before letting it go.
After a few monts of silence, I got up from my bed, brushed the dust off my clothes, then reached into my pocket and pulled out a piece of stale bread I had saved from yesterday, even though my stomach scread in hunger.
I left the shack I called ho and walked toward the side alley. I sat on the cold pavent, as I did every morning, and started eating the bread slowly, without haste.
...
As I ate, sothing strange began happening. The fog that usually filled the alley started thickening in front of , slowly taking the shape of a human figure.
His features were hazy, unclear, but his clothes? Sowhat visible. A long brown coat, a white shirt, and a brown vest.
This ghost had been lingering around since I got this pendant. He didn’t appear often vanishing for days, sotis weeks, only to return again. At first, I was terrified of him.
I didn’t understand who he was or what he wanted. But over ti, the fear faded, replaced with a strange sense of anticipation.
His presence beca part of my daily routine. His absence beca what scared . I don’t know who he is, but he makes feel like I’m not entirely alone even if he’s just a ghost who never speaks.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. His features were still unclear, but he seed to look at with an expression that carried sadness or pity or maybe both.
...
I headed toward the central square, about to beg as usual. I know, it’s not honorable, but it’s the only way I can earn so money.
To be precise, there are other ways, but all of them are worse.
I could work in one of the factories basically a slavery contract. For a kid like ? The hours are long, the pay isn’t enough for even a crust of bread, and in the end, you might collapse and die from exhaustion, and no one would notice.
Or I could try stealing. But what is there to steal here? A torn shoe? A rotten piece of at? No one owns anything worth stealing.
I arrived at the central square and sat on the ground, leaning my back against the cold wall.
Beside , the ghost appeared suddenly, as always. He said nothing at first, then began mumbling in so language I couldn’t understand.
I glanced at him sideways, but said nothing. I didn’t show surprise or fear I just ignored him.
I leaned my head back against the wall and gazed up at the sky, barely visible between the crumbling buildings.
I stretched out my hand, hoping so passerby would show rcy and give anything literally anything, even a piece of bread would’ve satisfied .
Hours passed under the scorching sun, but unlike yesterday, I didn’t manage to get a single coin. I exhaled, about to get up and leave
Then suddenly, a man approached . Thick red hair, a light beard of the sa color, wearing a wide hat that hid part of his face, and a long black coat.
He walked in silence without a word, pulled a coin from his pocket, and tossed it lightly toward . I quickly caught it before it hit the ground.
I stared at it, expecting it to be just another bronze coin, but when I opened my palm, my face froze in shock.
I kept staring at the coin in disbelief, then quickly looked around for the man but he had already vanished.
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