Act 1
A strong throbbing persisted within Richter’s head. Every step down the frosted sidewalk came with a dizzying feeling.
A lack of lucidity to the world around. A confusing mixture of emotions he couldn’t describe.
He didn’t even know if they were positive or negative.
Each time this happens, his brain lights on fire. Millions of pulses shoot across his nervous system as the memories start to submerge.
He didn’t want them. He didn’t want anything to do with them. He wanted each and every one of those signals in his brain to be blown out like a candle.
But in the end, he couldn’t run.
Memories are the most non-material part of our biology. They exist, but at the same time, don’t. They’re just neurons transmitting across the brain in patterns.
Yet, they always stay with us. You might forget something over time, or even forget everything at once.
It doesn’t matter. They’re still there, as long as you live on.
After all, they’re what make us who we are.
...
Who we are?
*BZZZZZZZZZT*
“Ah!”
Richter’s vision suddenly came back into focus as he felt a sudden sensation coming from his jacket.
*BZZZZZZZZZT*
He reached for the source, finding that the alarm on his phone was going off.
It read “10:00 pm”.
“Crap…”
Richter unenthusiastically whispered underneath his scarf as he trudged along the slushy pavement.
It was only when he glanced at the time that he realized just how exhausted he was.
He quickened his pace at just the right speed so that he wouldn’t slip and end up in the same predicament as minutes ago.
-----------------------
An overly-familiar sight loomed in front of Richter.
There’s a strong feeling of relief when you return to the street in which your home resides.
Today’s journey is over. It’s time to heal and relax.
Small thoughts like these encouraged him a little bit. No matter how tiring the day may be, there’s always a home to return to.
Just on the corner was the variety store that Richter frequented. Out of habit, he walked over to buy some snacks for the night. “It's Friday after all.” he thought.
The door chimed with digitized bells as he pushed it open, sighting an unfamiliar face at the counter.
Usually, he would be greeted by a large old man who’d owned the store probably way before Richter moved into the area.
In his place was a young, hazel-haired girl, presumably distracted by her phone. It wasn’t until this week that this girl had started working part-time here, so it wasn’t the first time Richter saw her.
“Guess the old guy finally gets a day off.” He remembers what he’d said the first time he bought something when she started working there, hoping desperately he doesn’t say something as stupid this time.
Needless to say, Richter got flustered simply trying to check out his items, even though he wasn’t shy about talking to people. After all, he works as a waiter and cashier at a cafe, he needs basic social skills to get by.
Brushing his thoughts aside, he focused his eyes on the back aisle of the store. He stopped to look at a shelf of sodium-riddled snacks, such as potato chips and popcorn, sighing at the absurd prices shown before him. He grabs the popcorn and moves over to the fridge to snatch an ice-cold cherry cola. You could call this a mundane part of everyday life, however for Richter, this was an event he indulged himself with on Friday nights without any plans with friends.
Waiting in line behind two people, his mind starts to wander towards a random string of thoughts, blocking his ears from the beeping sounds from the cash register and the TV blaring from the mount on the wall.
“Authorities have just reported a murder in a back alley on 42nd street. The victim, who was identified as 31-year-old David Striker, had suffered multiple stab wounds across his entire body, however, is believed to have died mainly from internal bleeding caused by a massive bruise thought to have been caused by being hit by some sort of vehicle. That, as unbelievable as it is, is not the strangest part about the incident. Stuck inside one of the victim’s stab wounds was a playing card, with no fingerprints, or any traces of that matter, of the owner of the said card who is believed to be the culprit. We would like to warn you to steer clear of any empty or dark alleyways at night, especially during these cold winter days we’ve been experiencing. Back to John Raymond with the latest updates on the wea-”
“Hello?”
“Hnguh?!”
Richter’s head jolted at the sudden noise piercing his eardrums, letting out an involuntary sound from being startled.
“Are you alright over there?”
He tilts his head forward to find the source of the noise: the newbie cashier.
“Oh, uh… yeah I’m fine sorry.” Richter says quietly as he places his items on the front counter.
As he adjusts his scarf, waiting for her to scan his snacks, she speaks again.
“It’s crazy you know… a murder like that happening in a place like this. I just moved to this town, enjoying the peacefulness of it all, and then this happens?”
“What?”
“I said, I moved in because of how nice this town seeme-”
“No, about the murder.”
“The news just reported it on the TV a second ago.”
“Sorry, I didn’t hear it.”
“Really?! I was blasting that thing, how could you not hear it? Oh, are you deaf? I’m sorry, I didn’t mea-”
“If I was deaf, how could we be communicating right now?!” Richter snapped back.
Unfazed, the girl replies.
“So you’re one of those absent-minded types, I see, I see.”
Richter holds back another comeback and looks away, realizing how aggressive he sounded just then.
“Well, anyway, here’s your bag.”
“Thanks- … wait, I haven’t paid yet.”
“Oh shi-, I’m sorry, give me a sec…”
Looking at how flustered she became, Richter couldn’t hold back this one:
“Seems like I’m not the only absent-minded one, am I?”
The cashier glances back at him and flashes a smug grin.
“Alright, that’ll be $4.31.”
After the quick exchange of money and a receipt, Richter gets ready to walk out the door when-
“Be careful tonight. Especially around dark alleys.”
As she mimics the quote from the television, Richter pauses momentarily, thinking of replying, but instead awkwardly walks out of the store.
“...”
The cashier looks down at the counter, wiping black dust onto the floor.
----------------------
Act 2
Richter snaps upright at the feeling of transitioning from the warm, heated building into the brisk, windy cold of the streets.
“I’m almost home. I can finally rest… what the hell do I watch tonight though?”
He whispers to himself, looking at his breath becoming visible as he walks on his way.
As he does, he wonders why he didn’t respond to the cashier instead of silently leaving. He squeezes his scarf to repress the feeling of cringe bubbling up his throat.
This feeling irritates him.
Constantly, Richter would respond to customers at work with things like “Have a good night” when the sun was shining bright at noon, inspiring that same feeling of anxiety within himself. The worst of it came from his memories of high school, which makes him desire a time machine so that he can go back and kick himself right in the-
*BAM*
Before those thoughts even had the chance to finish, Richter felt a heavy force on his side, knocking him onto the cold, wet snow once again.
His vision was filled with white. The snow forcibly found itself in Richter’s mouth.
After coughing out the gravel-filled snow, he immediately tried to stand back up.
“Ugh, what the hell was that….. Huh?”
He couldn’t lift himself.
He contorted his torso to see whatever had been forcing him onto the ground. It was a slender, almost scarily pale young man probably near Richter’s age. He had unusually light blond hair, almost looking gray, tied back into a ponytail. But the issue wasn’t with his hair.
The stranger was covered in fresh bruises, blood trickling down his nostrils and lips. The two men suddenly made eye contact. Richter took initiative and spoke.
“Hey, can you get off of-”
“AH!”
The pale man cut him off with a fear-filled gasp, his head twitching to the side.
“Oh god, oh god, god god god. You gotta help me get outta here man. Please, please for the love of all that’s-”
“Hold on, hold on. What are you talking abou-”
As he replied to the man’s crazed plea, Richter looked over his shoulder and saw…
“You’re begging to some random dude now, eh? Fucking pussy.”
“I don’t appreciate his filthy tongue, but I agree. You’re nothing but a coward.”
Two figures emerged from the shadows of an alleyway. Their looks contrasted so heavily against each other, that you would almost want to laugh at the sight.
One of the figures was a short, slouched, and lanky man with dark bags underneath his eyes. His hair was dyed into a flaming red, held upwards by a dark orange sweatband.
The other was startlingly tall and muscular. He took almost all the presence away from his cohort with his sheer build. His hair, instead of being flashy, was buzz-cut. His bronze-tinted sunglasses however may hint toward a sense of style. He could almost pass off as an usher to a fancy theater if it wasn’t for the massive scars across both his cheeks.
Suddenly, the red-haired man snapped.
“Hey hey, I can speak however I damn please.”
“Yeah yeah, but don’t you dare talk like that around my sister, you hear.”
“... I know, you fucking asshat.”
“Good. Anyway, ignore all that.” The muscular man spoke as he turned back towards the man still on top of Richter.
“You gotta pay up man. Neither you nor I are going to be happy otherwise.”
Finally crawling off of Richter, the supposed victim spoke, his voice cracking all the while.
“Ah… aaaahh! I told you guys already! Just give me a few more days, please! A-an emergency h-happ-happened yesterday. I spent most of what I h-had!”
“Yeah right, bitch! We saw you over with the motherfucker on 42nd a couple hours ago! Are you really tryna say buying that shit is an emergency?! Well, to be fair, to guys like you it probably is.”
“What he’s trying to say is that you have no excuse. Trust me, it hurts me to get so rough.”
The man shakily stands up, with droplets of blood staining the snow a light red.
“L-like you care! The way you h-hit me… you enjoy this don’t you?!”
“Well, I can’t say it isn’t satisfying to beat some sense into cowards like you.”
The tall figure slowly walks forward, his large hand rubbing the nape of his neck behind his head. Richter could tell from how his face tensed up that he was aggravated. Standing up as well, he took a step away from the alley. Before he could take his leave, he felt slender fingers wrap around his forearm.
“H-hey man. You can’t just l-leave me h-here like this! You know what they’re gonna d-do to me?!”
“This isn’t my problem. You got yourself into this mess. Just deal with it.”
Richter coldly slaps away the shaking hand grasped onto him.
Just when he thought it was over, two hands suddenly latched onto the same arm, and swung him backward, sending him back into the familiar snow.
“Aha… hehehehehe. Sorry man. This is your mess now.”
Giggling maniacally, the bloodied man looked away from Richter and broke into a full sprint.
His figure faded into the mist of the winter night.
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