(Past : Four Years Ago)

"The only things you could remember was a flash of black and smell of cigarettes."

After the death of your little baby brother, Ivan, you abandoned everything from your old life.

You abandoned your house, your innocence, your fears, your dreams, your appearance-

Even your name.

You called yourself "Glitch" now, it fit perfectly considering even you thought of your existence as a mistake.

Even so, through all the torture you had endured. Something within you kept fighting with the urge to live.

. . .

In the bag you had brought with you on your journey to run away, you packed three pairs of clothing. One pair consisting of a plain black shirt and gray basketball shorts. Another with a long red, v-neck, and black sweatpants. And the last with a long, black scarf, black hoody, and dark, torn blue jeans.

As far as appearance went, you cut your long (h/c) down to the nape of your neck, leaving your bangs to sway freely to the right. It was safer that way encase someone tried to attack, you could make a clean escape.

Overall, the change made you look like a guy. A very welcomed change in your opinion. Maybe you would look more intimidating and less vulnerable.

With new compromises made and your old life 'forgotten', you escaped into what was left of your town.

Buildings were destroyed beyond repair, dead bodies were littered about on the streets-creating a terrible stench, small fires were feeding off of the ruble, and the sky was filled with a black smog.

Hopeless.

This scene before- the scene of war made you feel hopeless.

And that's how you felt for four years.

You survived by staying in abandoned buildings, but only long enough for you to catch up on rest and loot the place of all it had.

It was hard to find good food and pure water, so whenever you came across something like a water bottle or canned food- you'd make it last up to weeks.

You hid in the shadows and only left your shelter at night. And when you did leave, you'd wrap your black scarf around your face, only revealing your eyes. The smoke that hovered over the places you traveled to would only cause sickness. You didn't have strength for that.

During the night was when you fully prospered. You'd make sure to watch out for monsters who kept a keen eye out for humans. And considering how stealthy you were, you barely made a sound.

You found so many useful things while scavenging. Some of your treasures included a sharpened knife, a box of matches, a flashlight with spare batteries, and medical wrap.

That medical wrap was your best friend.

You had so many scars that covered your body. Either from fights where the prize was a can of food. Or from running and going into treacherous areas. But your male facade had yet to fail you.

You were treated roughly, like a runt. Most humans, or at least the few you came across, just left alone or spat at you.

Everything was going good.

You felt secure.

You had supplies, a plan, and quick wits.

But that brought you to where you were now. Four years later.