1 Chapter 1

The jet-black asphalt had crystals of ice piercing through corpses and was doused in red from the blood splattered on the ground, some stains brown and dry, some bright red and fresh. The smell of blood was unbearable.

I wept and shuddered and crawled past the bodies, my nose, mouth, arm, all bleeding. The sun was blinding my eyes, while I dragged forward, towards the forest, leaving a trail of scarlet red behind. Tsk. I was overly confident so I took on a subjugation that risked my life. Still, I managed to complete the mission, though does it matter when I'm almost dead?

Do you have to go? Speaks to me. A memory. I'm losing too much blood. I can't think, I'm tired. Is this light-headedness? Maybe I should've stayed.

I find myself drifting into darkness, there's no light, nor tunnel, nor path. Uncertainty is the most frightening emotion, and I'm feeling it right now. I hate how large my legacy was, but akin to Ozymandias, I die with nothing left of me. My legacy will be forgotten through eons, thus even the great lose to time. The only thing left when I die is a glowing shadow blue crystal, dropped from a magical ice dragon, right from a fantasy story.

I wake up with a metal taste lingering in my mouth. The strong smell of cigarettes and wine, the dark faint lights brightening up the cell I find myself trapped in. Though I can't feel my body, I'm not in pain anymore. My wounds have been tended to. But I know that I would've been better off if they hadn't found me. Death would've been better than this.

It's hard to keep my eyes open because I'm still in a daze. A rough shake, hold, and drag, pull me away as the numb feeling subsides. I'm nudged out of the cell, and a sound of clacking keys comes after, locking the cell for an unfortunate someone. It takes hundreds of heartbeats before my eyes are bombarded with lights, hopeless, hollow lights. They've taken the wanted criminal to death row. But I'm not in the facility or the cell that is supposed to be for trapping wanted national criminals. I'm in a broken-down cell with a small door that would be easily broken.

I recognize this place. It's barely crawling out of my fading memory. This is the prison, one that I never knew the name of. One that I was stuck in for the many years of my pre-teen years. That was until I was struck with the opportunity to escape, thanks to something that would damn humanity forever.

Looking at my hands, they're smaller, and there aren't any scars on them anymore. Have I gone back in time?

The cell was where we slept. It was dark, humid, and empty. It reminded me of my old home. The walls are stone-cold concrete and my heart is stone cold and alone. I was the last one left before we even had a chance to escape. All my friends I've made in this lifeless shell have died. They were dragged away to be sold or used before we even thought that the idea of escaping was actually possible. But I've returned to the past and maybe I could change things, maybe I knew my own fate.

This was the second year of prison, and I was only twelve. It was winter when I escaped this hell of a place.

In a prison holding us, using us as workers to do jobs that no human should spend their daylights doing. Even an adult couldn't bear such a stupid job. Such a crappy job. Such a—

The bell rings one time. It's a loud electrical ring similar to a bell, except it sounds loud and surprising and evil. The bell only rang one time. It's time for breakfast. I slowly manage to drag my weak skinny legs across the floor towards the cafeteria. I take a metal uncleaned tray and receive a glop of unappetizing soup, along with some stiff bread. I swallow the soup down, forcefully, tear off a piece of the bread, and eat it slowly. It's hard to bite. After eating this for long enough, I've forgotten the taste of anything else. Day by day, this meal becomes easier to swallow, just like the despair of being trapped here.

The many days pass slowly, and the calluses on my hand grow larger the more I'm forced to mine and work and stay in this forsaken place. Sometimes I fall into a daze, forgetting my purpose for struggling to survive. Clenching on a severed rope of hope. I'm awaiting the day of escape, but what if everything was just a dream? Maybe there is no such thing as escape.

"Hello. I am Vine. I like… eating." I say to myself before going to sleep. Sometimes I say more, sometimes I don't speak at all. It's all to make sure my voice is still alive. Has it not died yet? It might die. I don't use it, just look down and sometimes nod. I'm scared of what might come after.

I fall into the gripping darkness every night and wake up from the siren-like screams of the electric bell. But today I woke up with a slap of screaming voices louder and rougher than mine. I kick off and out of the bed and fall onto the ground, banging my wrists against the concrete, crawling forwards towards the locked cell door whilst mustering enough energy to stand up and kick the crusty door open and the broken weak steel nails out. It's the day of escape, one full of screaming, instantly recognizable.

I sprint out of my cell and crash into the wall, trying to slow down and run down the hallway about to be filled with man-eating monsters straight out of the last circle of hell. The prison is breaking down and the walls are crumbling, the guards seemingly abandoning post. This place has no dignity and the guards have no loyalty. My muscles are straining as I finally make it out of the building into the boundless and bare winter landscape, the only thing warm is the sunlight shining at my face, though victory is short-lived. I'm trampled by many other prisoners like me, trying to escape, as the rush of people pushes me off my feet and onto the snow.

But who cares, I'm free and I'm free, as free as a spring deer, at least before it gets pouched. I somehow manage to pick myself up and avoid the ruckus of escaping prisoners.