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Before he could realize what had happened, he found himself falling downwards. He curled up hugging his legs, bracing himself for the upcoming impact the fall was leading to. He hadn’t even managed to scream before he collided with the hard ground and tumbled downhill, his course then stopped by a kind enough tree that happened to be in his way.
He lay there, his eyes firmly sealed and groaning from the pain. If only he could just lie there forever. This was an option, he supposed. Lying there until his death, not moving an inch, not hurting anymore. The thought sounded nicer the more he circled it around his head. You couldn’t suffer when you’re dead. After all, that's what he should be. He wasn't supposed to survive.
However, he just couldn’t bring himself to just die. Dying in pity like this is too much like accepting defeat, and this wasn’t something he wanted to consider doing. A victim may always be a victim, but this victim would be the one to manage to be something more.
Victim grumbled and tried to rise to a sitting position, promptly ignoring his aching limbs that begged him to stop moving. Quickly, he realized standing up right was out of the question, not with how much his leg hurt. He let out a sigh and started rubbing circles on his limbs, in hopes he could soothe the pain and walk. It wouldn’t do much on healing his glaring wounds, however.
The repeated, calming touch of his fingers brushing on his skin was what made him realize how tired he felt, noticing he had to fight to keep his eyes open. Not like he could let himself sleep, anyways. This was a vulnerable position he was in, and he had to get out as soon as possible. Sleeping would only worsen things and make everything more dangerous.
He took note of his surroundings. It was quiet, for one. It was also very green. Green everywhere, nothing like what he'd seen before. The computer was white —at least the program he was in— and there was always a low noise looming in the background, a constant static ringing in his ears. This was so vastly different, he couldn't decide whether he hated it or not. His subconscious told him to be wary of new things, but could something really be as bad as the computer?
He didn't want to risk it. The world is always in the hunt for new victims.
Either to make things worse or as a cruel game of the universe to confirm his suspicion, Victim heard voices. He could recognise it distinctly, it was voices he heard, not just random sounds. He could distinguish two of them clearly, but maybe there were more. Whatever the case was, he sure knew he was mortified. He was lying in open view, with nowhere to take cover, and especially not in the condition he was in.
Even so, he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing, while danger was nearing. He clenched his teeth and grabbed from the tree he was lying underneath. A pained yelp died on his lips when he tried to move his leg. He couldn’t let himself scream.
Shakily and in great pain, Victim managed to pull himself upright, standing on his one less damaged leg. As he heard the voices closing in to him, he reached one hand to grab a branch further away to balance himself better. Unfortunately, one hand wasn’t enough to support his weight in his condition, even for the miniscule time before he grabbed from somewhere, and so he came tumbling to the ground again, hitting harder on the earth's floor. This time, he didn’t manage to drown the yell that escaped his mouth. Dizzy, he felt the edges of his vision start to blur and blacken, but he could make up the two figures that came into his field of view.
He didn’t try to move again. It was all pointless after all. What would he even do if he managed to stand? Run? Not a chance, anyone could catch him if they wanted. He figured he’d just let them do what they wanted to him. What’s the point of resisting, anyways? A victim is always a victim.
He was pathetic, wasn’t he? He would probably laugh if he wasn’t the one in pain.
He felt nearly passed out as he struggled to keep touch with his senses.
“There is someone here, Florian! He looks injured!” a muffled high pitched voice shouted.
“How bad?” said a deeper one.
“He’s breathing, but he seems unconscious. Should we bring him in?”
“Help me carry him back! Careful not to hurt him.”
Any attempt to move or even flinch he might have tried to make went in vain. Then it all went black.
* * *
When he woke up, he wasn’t in the place he’d passed out. He was inside some room, with walls painted in warm colors and a soft mattress underneath him, much unlike the dirt he had passed out on. He was quick to notice that fact and even quicker to jolt upwards. What was the quickest though was the pain that ran throughout his being.
He felt a soft hand on his shoulder.
“Calm down dear, you’re not in the position to stand yet,” a soothing voice said from his side.
Victim turned around, wide-eyed. He met the warm eyes of a woman that patted his shoulder lightly, smiling at him. He tried to say something, but the shock and sheer unbelievability of the situation wouldn’t let him utter a single word. Was this a dream?
His gaze fell on his bandaged arms and torso. He looked up at the woman then back at himself.
She followed his gaze and he could see her frown. “I took care of your wounds, you're healing.” She trailed off looking at him again. “Just what happened and got you like this?” she asked, the concern apparent in her eyes.
Victim mentally dismissed the question and narrowed his eyes on her. He didn’t buy it. Why would anyone care about someone this way?
Looking at himself again, he realized he looked different, which was admittedly the last thing he expected. His hand, at least the non-bandaged part, had now a distinct gray color like ash. Same went for the rest of his body. He could surely remember he was made black. Had the change happened when he first fell into this strange world?
Speaking of differences, the woman also looked vastly different compared to himself. She had a completely unique animation style, her build much unlike his own thinner body. More points to his dream theory, he supposed.
A pair of figures stepped inside the room and met his gaze. Instantly, he identified them as the pair from before and flinched violently, pushing himself back towards the bed frame. He hissed at the pain from his leg but he remained firm in his place, staring at them warily. He noted they were also alike to the woman in terms of style.
“You’re awake!” the owner of the higher voice said and ran next to him, grinning.
Alright, this was certainly a dream.
“Rosemary, what is his condition?” the man asked, inspecting Victim from head to toe.
“He’s going to be alright, it’s just some surface injuries and a dislocated knee.” The woman who was apparently named Rosemary explained and the man nodded thoughtfully.
The girl, however, didn’t seem to be paying that much mind to them, much to Victim’s disappointment.
“Hello stranger,” she started. “My name is Ivy. Who are you and what brings you here into our village?” She was speaking in a slow, emphasize-every-word tone, bringing her face uncomfortably close to him, which made Victim think she believed him to be stupid. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid.
He opened his mouth to say something, but the man was quicker, probably not having noticed him. “Give him some space Ivy, he’s probably had a bad day,” he chuckled and the girl scoffed at him. “My name is Florian. Ivy over there is my sister, and you’ve already met Rosemary.” He offered a hand, which Victim shook hesitantly. The man smiled at him.
“We found you in the forest unconscious and brought you to our village. Rosemary is the best doctor we could ask for, I am certain you'll be all well before long.” Florian continued, his warm eyes like the sun staring softly into Victim's blank gray ones. “Until then, we are more than willing to welcome you in our community.”
“We could show you around our village!” Ivy said excitedly, but Rosemary cut her with a wave of her hand.
“This will have to wait just a little. He still has his knee dislocated and walking is out of the question,” she mused, turning to the bedridden teen. “I'm reluctant to move forward with the leg reduction. I've never tried it on someone other than our own and I'm not confident I know how his anatomy would affect the process. It could accidentally be more painful than it should.” She looked at the boy in a mix of puzzlement and concern.
That last sentence of hers was what did it for Victim. Painful, they say as if that's something unheard of. As if he hadn't been in pain for the entirety of his life. If that's the only thing between him and his ability to get out walk, it's too small a cost.
He clenched his fists. “Do it,” he said with his raspy, unused voice. The trio looked at him in astonishment, as if surprised he could actually speak.
“Are you sure, dear? I could get you to someone in the city.”
“Just do it."
The woman let out a breath and closed her eyes for a few slow, unbearable seconds. When she opened them again, she grabbed Victim's leg with impressive dexterity, then quickly slid the kneecap back to place with a clack! Registering the pain, the teen felt he would explode from the hurt, but he remained tense in his place, teeth clenched and lips firmly sealed.
Reluctantly, he tried to move his leg. It was still somewhat sore, but nothing too hard to deal with. His gaze circled the room and landed on Rosemary, inspecting her features, hoping to maybe find a reason why. Why would these people help him? Why would they take the burden of tending to him when they could have just let him die? What did they want?
“Why?” he said, eventually deciding to speak his mind. The doctor tilted her head at him, so Victim rephrased his inquiry. “Why help me?”
“Because that's what we do here. We help people that need us. We have a community built on helping,” she explained as if that's the most obvious thing in the world. The siblings were muttering something to each other, eying him with concern. None of them failed to notice his bewildered expression.
“Stranger, if you don't mind me asking, where do you come from?” the man, Florian, asked, wearing the calm expression Victim had already managed to get used to.
“And what's your name?” Ivy added.
Name. Victim’s mind raced and he felt his thoughts tangling with each other.
Convert to symbol
Name: victim|
Once a victim, always a victim. That's what he was, nothing more than a pathetic victim, a plaything made to lose, to be humiliated, to keep on falling down.
victim, victim, victim, victim, vic–
“I'm Vic.” he said with a bitter tone the others didn't seem to notice. “And I don't come from anywhere.”
Ivy’s eyes widened. “Do you mean you don't have a place to go?”
He shook his head. No, he didn't. He had no place he'd want to be or ever go again, that's for sure.
A deathly silence filled the room, the trio glancing at each other with saddened expressions, then looking back at the child. He couldn't have been older than 13 and yet here he was, alone in a vast world. Not to mention the injuries they had no idea where he'd gotten.
Rosemary was the one to break the silence. “If that’s the case, then you're free to stay with me for however much you wish, dear. I don't have any children of my own but I'd be happy to have you.” She finalized her offer with a smile, taking Vic’s hand and clasping it inside hers.
He didn't know how to feel about the offer. Or anything that was happening. The previous pain had made him realize this wasn't just a vivid dream he was having, but he still had a hard time figuring what exactly it was. Because reality could never be this sweet. Not to him. Not to Victim.
He shook his head mentally. Victim was dead. It met its fate and died in the hands of its creator like it was always meant to. This person, it was Vic. They weren't the same, his skin color could prove it. Victim was dead but Vic was very much alive and thriving.
Slowly at first and then more confidently, he nodded to everyone in the room. “Thanks,” he muttered, making himself smile.
The trio smiled back in return. “It's never a problem, Vic. Remember that.” Florian said softly, like a father speaking to his child, even though he wasn't that much older than himself. An older brother, maybe.
He turned to Ivy. “You can show me around, if you want.” He felt his cheeks become warmer and pondered how visible that was. He felt an odd yet weirdly pleasant sensation, however, seeing the girl's face brighten.
“Sure! C’mon, you'll love it!” she squeaked and dragged him out of bed, much to the displeasure of his still sore knee.
“Careful, Ivy, don't exhaust him too much!” Rosemary shouted behind them and he could hear Florian chuckling as they exited the room.
It felt nice, to be thought of in equal terms. It really felt nice to have people around you. Vic found himself grinning as he and Ivy ran throughout the village’s narrow paths that seemed to him like highways.