>•~Falling Upwards~•<

Chapter Two: Tied Hands

I see you,
In a passing breeze,
I see you.

I see you,
Permanently scarring my mind,
I see you.

*~*

~???~

  'Knife. Knife. Knife...' my mind continues to play, on repeat, as I stare at the weapon.

  A whirlwind of questions absorb me. Who was I? Why was I stabbed — Better yet, why did I have to be stabbed? Was I some sort of criminal? Who stabbed me, and why? Are they still... alive? If they are, do they still remember me? Rather, who I was.

  "I, uh," "someone" stammers.

  Does he know who stabbed me? Yikes, was he the one who stabbed me? Perhaps he came back to finish me off. Afterall, I am not dead yet.

  I should run. I know I did not want my life before, but that is when I thought there was nothing but sand. "Someone" has helped to show me that there is still life here. I want my life; I want to live.

  I make a grunt, as I heave my worn-out limbs to get them to move. All of my muscles cry out in pain. I have to push this aside. I have to live. I have to see the world, and to do just that, I must escape "someone".

  After some effort, I finally begin to... crawl away from him. I press my hand on my wound, to keep the blood from pooling out. It still hurts. Oh, to sweet life, it hurts.

  My hobbling is useless. All I do is make strange grunts, and my limbs refuse to do a single thing. Cuts and bruises along my face nip at me too, and add to the stiffness in my body to move.

  Soon, "someone" notices. He seems confused. I cannot comprehend why. He is obviously my murderer. I blink at him with wide, fear-filled eyes. Somehow, this only makes him more confused.

  "Miss, please come back. I want to help you; you are the first alive person I have seen, besides April, that does not attack me," "Someone" states. Again, he reaches out his hand to me, although a weak gesture still.

  'At least he got my gender right,' I think, and then realization strikes me hard.

  He is trying to help me, and there are more alive people. One of which is named "April". Even if not all of them hold good intentions. This is still another reason to not let myself bleed out to death.

  I try to say, "Oh," but it sounds more like "Ugh" than "Oh". Which is not good. I do not want him getting the wrong idea, and believe that I do not want his help. I do want "someone"'s help. I really need "someone"'s help.

  I smile at him weakly, to try and make sure my point is clear that I do want his help. I believe he got it. He gives me a smile back, and then proceeds to help me up again.

  Pain seers back to me. I must look so pathetic. I begin to double over again, as it swelters in my abdomen again. A series of needles tear into me again, and again. I feel my hand getting wet again, and I start to feel dizzy.

  "This is not going to work." He grumbles to himself.

  I agree. This definitely is not working. My stupid body can't get itself together.

  "Someone" sweeps me up onto his back, in a piggyback-fashion. I bite my lip to keep another huff from escaping from the sudden moment. Am I really this weak? I truly have taken a toll.

  He pulls out a map. It's so... colorful and lively then the world here. He trails his finger up to a small circle in a very leafy section. The map shows four sections; one more desert-like, similar to life here now, another that contrasts this, with a lot of lakes dotting about it, the leafy one with the circle, and the last one more north with a lot of snow and mountains. Each section blends into the next. They all meet with a large tree in the center, and each also has a palace in the middle of their territories. Little villages circle around these, with barely any houses near the outskirts, where a desert that perfectly matches the one we are currently living in.

  I wish to go there. It seems a lot nicer, then here. However, I get a gut feeling that this place is nonexistent. Nothing but desert and sand exists all around us.

  So, "someone" starts his journey to trek back over to that circle. Why would he even come out here? It must be so easy to get lost. Just about everything looks the same.

  We go quiet. "Someone" occupies the role of getting us back to his base. I, on the other hand, would start up a conversation. I can't, though. My throat is still parched, and besides, I don't even have the energy to talk anyways.

~*~

  More time has flown by. Just about everything has remained the same. Just sand, and more sand. Well, add that in with the occasional body. They all look just about the same, and I can see why "someone" had called me an "it". They are all also in the same condition.

Dead.

They are all dead.

  "Hm," "someone" mumbles to me.

  He must be getting bored as well. Probably tired. I know I would not be able to carry another person on my back. Especially not now, since I am almost, er, dead.

  "What's your name?" He asks. I have known him for a few hours now, and we don't even know each other's names.

  Name. I need a name. What is my name? Everything flies right by me. I remember someone holding up a "C", a long, long while back. That is all I can remember right now. Only the letter "C". To be honest, I cannot recall any other letters. Only "C", and "H".

  Once again, my head feels like fog. All is too cloudy to make anything out. I am hopeless; I do not have any possessions. Not even a name. What do I tell "someone"?

  "M— my," My voice is rasp, and hoarse. I could be a ghost; I would fit right in.

  Water. I need water. Hopefully "someone" is a mind reader. If not, then saving pathetic me is no use. I will just disintegrate into the sand.

  He hands me a flask of water. It is kept in a small leather pouch. I grin at him to say my thanks, although I know he cannot see it. I suppose he is a mind reader. I wonder if he knows what I'm thinking right now.

  I quickly down the flask. The cold water hit the back of my throat, and brought immediate relief. I relish in it, as the cracks and sores miraculously fade off, by just drinking water. Some of it trails out, and helps to wash off the dust and sand from my skin.

  I wipe my mouth, and hand back the flask. It is now empty. Hopefully "someone" is not thirsty too. Yikes, I really hope he is not thirsty — He is my only way out of this fiery bowl.

  "Thanks," I mumble.

  He looks down at the empty flask. My face heats up with embarrassment. Oh no. What if he throws me out back to the desert? That would be a pathetic death.

  "It's okay," He answers to the empty water jug. I am getting convinced that this guy is a mind reader. "Anyways, what is your name?"

  Shoot. Name. Name. I need a name. I can't scrape anything up, besides the letter "C" and the other letter "H" from my memory. Past me had apparently never learned how to read.

"Er..."

   Would it be strange if I just told him my name is "C"? What if it's not, I mean I know it's not. Maybe I am "H", and then I would be lying to him. I don't even know this dude, but he most likely does not appreciate being lied to. No one likes being lied to.

  "I am "C", or "C.H.", probably," I blurt out to him. At least there is good news: I can sort of talk.

  Bad news is that he might throw me back to the sand from annoyance. First, I drink all of his water. Second, I lie to him, or I am probably lying to him.

  "...Cool, nice to meet you "C" or "C.H.", is it okay if I just call you C?" "Someone" tells me after a hot moment. I knew it. He will throw me out. "I am August, by the way."

  I nod, "Mhm!" C probably isn't even my name, but now I guess it is.

  Just then, our awkward conversation gets cut off. I see a large building. A tall, fancy ruin which streams up to the sky. Different assortments of gold decorate it, and contrast to the dark stone it is made of.