Final Stop at Lived: Episode 3

​Content Warnings:

• ​Chronic Pain: Hip Injury
• ​Verbal Abuse & Ableism
• ​Phobia: Being Watched (Scopophobia)
• 
  

​I watched the old buildings pass by—places that were once alive with people talking, dogs barking, and life moving as it should. It was crazy how much everything had changed. As we got closer to Highway 13, I saw Payton Blackthorne watching me through the rearview mirror again. His gaze was unreadable, the weight of the XVII Omens following us like a ghost.

​"You know what they say about Lived Store 9?" Payton asked. His tone was cold and sharp, like he was delivering a warning he’d said a thousand times before.

​I shook my head no. He didn't smile like a friend; he showed teeth that were far too sharp to be human, a dark, jagged laugh escaping him. "Oh... walking food. You have a big shock coming, Null. Humans go there and never come back."

​I swallowed my fear and gripped the picture of my mom. I was screwed if I didn’t get a job, but getting this job felt like being handed over to the lions.

​The car hit a deep bump, and a sharp pain shot through my hip. I bit back a scream, clutching my side as the world blurred for a second.

​"Whoops. Sorry, kid," Payton said. He didn't look back. His voice was flat, but it didn't sound like he was trying to hurt me—it sounded like he was indifferent to a pain he couldn't fix.

​I could tell he wasn't really sorry. No one is kind in this world anymore. I just wished for love and gentleness again, but that felt like a dead dream.

​When we finally arrived, the atmosphere was heavy and unsettling. The building loomed over us, a relic of a world that didn't belong to humans anymore.

​"Now get out," Payton snapped, his Lead Operator persona clicking back into place. "Don't keep the boss waiting."

​I got out slowly, the cold air hitting my face as I slammed the door. I started limping toward the entrance, my hip screaming with every step. This is my new life, I thought. This is just how it has to be. Above the door, a flickering red neon sign read: LIVED STORE 9. A wave of dread hit me as I stepped inside. The air smelled of metallic copper and old, mildewed paper. Nausea rolled through my stomach.

​"You’re late."

​A stern voice came from the shadows. As the man walked toward me, I realized how massive he was—at least 6’6”, muscular, and of Asian descent. He had a cold expression and eyes so dark you couldn’t tell where the pupils ended. I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his neck, but his shirt collar hid the details. His name tag said Colton.

​My hip began to ache again as he looked me up and down, his eyes scanning me with a precision that made me want to disappear.

​"Luz didn't tell me you were hurt, kid," he said. His voice sounded like a boss who didn't want to be bothered, but there was a flicker of something—an observation—in his gaze.

​I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat like sand. I looked down at my shoes, waiting for the floor to swallow me whole.