The Forsaken Hero
I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. My fingers were numb and cold, my arm aching where the needle pierced the vein. Something clattered onto the pavement, and I looked down to see the needle. It had slipped out of my hand. Nothingness swirled around me, bringing the first sense of peace I'd felt in my short, miserable life. There was no one to miss me, and no one I would miss. There's always someone else to beat or rape. The regulars would move on quickly. I died. Only...wasn't death supposed to be dark? And since when did 'nothingness' have so many gods? Discord: https://discord.gg/PX3xqJdZMY
Blurred Identity
The banquet seemed identical to every other one I'd been forced to attend in this world. Loud talking, laughter, and conversation enveloped me the moment the door opened. The tingling of glass and scrape of plates grated against my sensitive ears, and the flood of bright lights was harsh against my eyes. I shied away as eyes turned toward us, curious who the newcomers were. It took less than a second for gasps of shock to draw the attention of others, until the entire room stared at me.
The inquisitor marched forward unabashed, seemingly ignorant of the powerful stares of kings, rulers, and fathers. Still under her command, I staggered after her lest I suffer the public humiliation of a punishment. I moved unsteadily, drunk on the overwhelming exposure and battling a paralyzing anxiety. There were so many people watching my every move, their eyes narrowed, their lips curled in disgust, leaving my mind blank save a sole remaining instinctual thought. To run.