Chapter Text
"Wh- where the hell am I...?" You murmured to yourself, your head throbbing in pain as you attempted to stand up. Your legs were a bit shaky and your heart was beating at a face pace. Glancing around at your surroundings didn't help your panic, only confirming the fact you weren't outside your house anymore. You tried to recall what had happened to make you end up in some unfamiliar alley way, the memory suddenly hitting you like a truck against a brick wall.
The last thing you remembered...
Was being shot.
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"God... I'm so bored." You grumbled to yourself, not talking to anyone in particular as you stared at your computer screen.
Summer break before junior year had been about as uneventful as you expected. You basically did nothing except stay inside and watch YouTube, occasionally reading some fanfiction here and there. You really had no schedule, like most summers. No job, no crazy vacations, nothing. So here you were, mindlessly glaring at your laptop as you sat on your bed, staring at the paused credits screen.
You had just finished your first rerun of Bungo Stray Dogs. It was a show you had been a fan of for a long time, and now that it was summer, you finally had time to rewatch it. Season four and season five were definitely some of the more hectic things you've ever watched, yet it was definitely good. Seeing all your favorites win in the end and watching as Fyodor died to a stupid helicopter was very satisfying even if it was the second time you had seen it. The only problem was...
Well, what the hell were you gonna do now?
Sure, you could start a new show. The few friends you had who shared your interests had recommended you more shows than you had time to watch, but all of those sounded so... unappealing. Sure, you could go read some more fanfiction of Bungo Stray Dogs, but you were doing that yesterday. Maybe you could even finish the new chapters of the manga, but you didn't feel like going on Tiktok or Twitter to find them. You could also start some of the other content the author had to offer, like the different universes he's written or the light novel he's made. You were honestly a little surprised you hadn't started it earlier, but you weren't really in the mood to read anything too angsty today.
A voice broke your train of thought as your mother called your name from the living room. "Coming!" You called out, climbing out of bed and opening your door, walking out of your room, stepping past the mess of clothes and assorted crafts on your floor. Once you exited your room and entered the living room, you noticed your mom sitting on the couch, smiling faintly at you. "Would you mind taking the trash out? I'd do it but..." She paused, seemingly trying to find some sort of excuse as to why she wasn't doing it herself before shrugging. "You're the more nimble out of the two of us. It'd be easier if you did it for me. You'd be doing me a huge favor..." She said, both of you knowing she had no good excuse for her asking. Not that she really needed one, considering she was your mom.
You smiled at her words. "Yeah, yeah, I'll do it." You answered, turning your back to go grab the trash from the trash can. "Thanks, hun. You're the best." She called out, before turning her attention back towards the television she was watching. You took the trash out of the trash can, making sure none of that disgusting garbage juice got on you as you began walking out of your house. You unlocked the door, stepping outside as the humid air practically smacked you in the face. Summer where you lived was always incredibly humid and hot, making it almost suffocating to step outdoors. You let out a small sigh, regretting your choice of rather warm clothing as you walked up to the front of your house, opening the lid to the garbage can and throwing the trash bag inside. Closing the lid, you began walking back to your front door, still considering what you were gonna do with your free time and how you were gonna pass the day.
However, a small crunching sound under your feet caught your attention.
You prayed it wasn't a bug or something you just stepped on, hoping it was just a leaf. You didn't really want to get anything on your socks considering you were too lazy to put on shoes. However, to your surprise, it wasn't a leaf nor a bug. When you moved your foot and looked down, you noticed a piece of crumpled paper was underneath. A little confused, assuming it fell in the trash, you picked it up. However, something about the paper felt... off.
You couldn't quite place why picking up a piece of trash made you so nervous, but you suddenly felt your heart pick up pace as you stared at the crumpled paper. You curiously opened it up, staring at whatever was inside. To your surprise, there was actually something written and not just a blank page. Oddly enough, it was in a language you couldn't quite understand. You quickly recognized it was russian, and now were questioning why the hell a note was written in russian outside your house. Neither of your parents knew the language, let alone you. So why the hell would this be outside your house?
You just assumed it was some trash from the neighbors or something, not trying to give it too much thought despite how nervous you felt. You weren't even sure why you felt so scared, considering it wasn't anything to get all anxious over. It was just some dumb note, right?
"Odd." You mumbled under your breath, turning around towards the trash can to throw it away.
However, a loud bang quickly made you stop dead in your tracks.
You paused, not able to process anything that was happening as a sharp pain suddenly entered your chest. You let out a hitched gasp, falling to your knees in the grass as the paper collapsed next to you. You suddenly found it difficult to breathe, pain overwhelming you as you looked down, only to see blood dripping out of your shirt. The sharp pain was overwhelming now, throbbing throughout your entire body as you let out a loud scream of pain, tears blurring your vision. You tried to speak, call out for help, anything, but your throat began filling up with blood. You began coughing and hacking violently, falling over on the grass while your body continued throbbing with the most horrific pain you had ever experienced.
You had been shot.
But... by who? Why?
What have you done to deserve this?
You found that your eyelids felt heavier and heavier, no longer able to keep them open no matter how hard you tried. Your movements were sluggish as your body gave out, the last thing you ever heard was screaming, following by footsteps running towards you.
Why...
Why you?