[Chapter Forty-Nine]: You Cannot Escape

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"H-Help..." came the croaky voice of a young teenager, who was dragging his body across the mud, scraping himself in the process. Of course, that didn't compare to the sheer quantity of cuts and bruises found on his face, and it didn't just stop there. His ragged and dirtied clothing, stained with his crimson blood, was easily the most noticeable thing about him. A mere white shirt. That was the most noticeable thing about him.

His face was less than average. At least, that was what everyone thought. And that was what everyone decided to say. They didn't like those red, glowing eyes of him, shining at all times. There was even a noticeable glow from his eyelids, whenever he closed his eyes shut. They didn't like the ruby hair of his, grown to a length that was considered long for a boy. And it sometimes found itself glowing. Who knew why? Hell, there was even a shine on his white teeth from time to time.

"Someone... please..." he croaked once again, his arm dragging his entire body further and further. There was some kind of light in the distance; was that a good sign when you were barely hanging onto your life? Whatever it meant, his body refused to stop. He didn't know why, but something bad would happen if he did stop. ...Who told him that? "I... I... Help...!"

Why him? Why did it have to be him? Who could gain satisfaction from the suffering of him? He already suffered enough, so why him? Why not someone who deserved it? He never deserved this, did he? What did he do to deserve it? Why was he asking these questions, as if there was an answer awaiting him, an answer that would explain everything?

It was ridiculous. 

Nobody liked him. That was why he was attacked. That was the answer he was searching for in his final moments. And he had to accept that, before he died. Accept the fact that nobody liked him. Accept the fact that they called him names over and over, laughing at the saddened expression on his face. Accept the fact that they repeatedly insulted his looks and made him feel like he belonged in the trash— No, that was offensive to the trash. 

Of course, it wasn't long before he started to hate everything. He hated everything. The teachers that were trying to make them learn useless crap that he'd forget by the time he graduated... He hated them. The boys that made it their life's goal, it seemed, to make sure he was always feeling down. The girls that always giggled when he was around, teasing him about her. He learnt a lesson to never fall in love again. It was impossible to, anyway. He hated everything after all. Even his own... Reflection.

Reflection. That's what they called him. He didn't like that name. They shouldn't have called him Reflection. But they did, anyway. They called him Reflection because he went around, smashing mirrors. Because he didn't want to look at his own Reflection. He hated that name as much as he hated himself. And he hated himself the most.

He gave up. His body became limp, and he didn't move. A sense of relief overwhelmed his body, but that was quickly drowned out by the swarm of pain that followed after. The consequence of pushing himself too far. But alas, that didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. He didn't matter anymore. And that was why he would let himself succumb to his injuries, to end his life, to end his suffering, to end it all. End it.

"Why think like that, Reflection?" came a voice. Who was he? "Who am I?" How did he know? "I know a lot." Where did he come from? "Thoughts should not be wasted on pointless questions. What matters is what comes next." He couldn't see this man, but could see him at the same time. What? "I bear what you seek most; I can give you what you want. But of course, that doesn't matter to you, for you will succumb to your injuries sooner or later, correct?" ...That was what he was thinking. Before. Why was he now thinking...? "Ah, you no longer want to die painfully? I see, I see. I thank you for that free choice you just made. Your cooperation and willingness to do what I say is quite extraordinary, don't you think?" ...N- Yes. Yes, it was.

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