Where The Hell Am I?
First Person POV
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I would say today was a good day, school was okay overall, and there wasn't much to do, so as an introvert, I went straight home and turned on the T.V. It's always great just watching T.V, not a care in the world. See, while I don't have many friends, I have a bunch of free time; it's easy to overlook things happening in the world if you live easy like me. I'm not a rich kid per se, but I'm not in the middle class; it's somewhere in the middle, and I can see that.
I go to a below-average school, so I'm a rich kid in my school's eyes. My parents are busy a lot, but they make room for family time. In reality, my parents are the only people I know personally. Sure I have acquaintances but, I'm not exactly putting them in the friend's category. Besides, they only want to be friends with me because of the money I have. I go to this specific school because there aren't many other schools around. My parents need to go early in the morning, so they decided on the school closest to the house. If I'm honest, the only reason I still go there is for convenience. If I wanted to, my parents could just get me a taxi, but I don't want to look spoiled in front of many people. They might just think I'm showing off.
So, back to me on the couch, anime and other shows are how I escape from a tedious world. I mean, I'm smart and understand things better than others way before. It's easy for me; I have become desensitized, but stuff like anime gives me a sense of wonder and amazement. So much so that I often daydream of what would happen if I personally went there.
"I'm ho~me," cried at the voice of my dad.
And here comes the dullness again, my parents want me to focus on studying more than anything, so they banned me from watching anime. Lucky for me, there away a lot, so I can break that rule often. Quickly switching onto a music T.V channel, I call out, "Welcome home, dad!" it's always like this sure, I love my parents. Still, there strict I try to make them happy with smiles and good grades. Yet, when my mask slips and they see my dull, bored face, they scold me saying stuff like I should appreciate what they've given me, and it's not like I don't. It's just monotonous.
Hearing footsteps, I turn slightly to see my dad under the frame of a now open door. Behind him is a flash of orange, turning around fully now. "How was work today?" I ask, slightly straightening in hopes of seeing what is now a shadow of a person behind him. Somewhat curious, I peek my head around to see a short orange-haired man. Feeling my gaze, the short man flinches. My dad, now noticing me looking, speaks out, "Ah, right ##### this is a coworker of mine. He's a bit shy, and I have a project with him, so he thought we would discuss it over dinner!" I look at him suspiciously. They could have done it at work, so why come over here? "Your mother is going to be late, so don't worry if she isn't here by the time you finish making the food." I quietly make a noise of agreement and ask him what I should make, getting there answers I quickly cook up the food.
Bringing it towards the table. I once again see the orange-haired man, but this time there's something a bit hungry. However, it doesn't look like it's for the food. I carefully set down the plates and place the food out, and we eat. I notice some fidgeting from the orange-haired man. "You can eat, don't worry." I try to sound condescending to get a reaction out of him, seeing as he looks incredibly suspicious. He flinches, and his arm shoots down, then up, revealing a small gun. Quickly standing up, I try and make it over to him, only to have him point a gun at me.
"Always on your high-horses, even your kid is on one!" he quickly says, a feral glint in his eyes. He quickly goes on a monologue about how my dad stole his position and acted all high and mighty about it. Now that he has lower wages, he can't afford his house and is now in debt. I ignore it in favor of looking at his gun, and slowly as to not have him notice, I reach out my hand to grab it. Unfortunately, he sees. While his eyes widen, his hands are going someplace, finger on the trigger, he gets ready to shoot. 'NO! nonononononono, I don't want him to die NO!' and miraculously I move my legs to jump. As if in slow motion, the bullet gets closer and closer to my head until in front of my dad. Closing my eyes, I think my last thought, 'I hate this place,' and then pain spreading until I feel a rough texture from my back. Confused, I open my eyes to a grassy field to utter the sentence, "Where the hell am I?".