Chapter 2: Tracked
It’s been..how many days, months, years? I don’t even know anymore. I’ve lost track of time ever since that day. I could already tell that it’s been long enough, the crippled posters that contained an image of my face, still nailed onto the logs of these streets. The text imprinted onto the poster, ‘Still Missing’. My once baby light brown highlights still remained on the printed paper. Even though it may be a bit crusty, it was still visible. I could even still spot the slight hue of green that remained in those pure innocent eyes.
Stretching my arm outwards to grab hold onto one of the corners of the delicate paper, suddenly yanking it off the wooden post, causing a tear to form. ‘That’s not me...not anymore.’ The thought didn’t linger long in this small brain of mine. I had a task to complete for the day. The small puffs of steam slipped out of my slightly parted lips due to the cold that faded into this town.
Was it possibly December now..? November? I haven’t been allowed to look at calendars ever since as well, I’ve even forgotten how to read certain dates. I know, it must be incredibly odd for someone to forget such a thing. But throw me a bone here, I haven’t seen any text formats in a long and I mean long time. Not that I accurately recall when it occurred to me, those men in the lab coats just fucked up my head is all, or whatever they do for a goddamn living. Friends? I wonder what real friends are like...how can those geeks and psychopaths residing at home be friends? Surely..friends are…
My eyelids lower at that, not being able to receive any remembrance or familiarity of the specified word. A small quick exhale left my mouth once more at that, resulting into a faint sigh. I just needed to get this job done with for the day so I can just return back home. My footsteps crunched into the snow softly, the white particles falling from the unknown above my head slowly as if mere insects. It was supposedly to be an isolated time of the month if it were to be this freezing. Shoving my palms back into the pockets of my pallid coat, taking out a thin piece of paper at the size of a post-it, just to read the address written on it. 01-45, Reir street. It wasn’t so far away now, just a few more blocks and it should just be right there.
After a few minutes walking through the white covered field, on the sidewalks, I took a corner and was immediately revealed a tall red bricked building. A hotel, how ordinary. Many men these days are just like pigs, unknowingly waiting to be slit through their throats, slaughtered, as they squealed. Daily target of course is of a man that contains ebony hair, azure eyes, and fairly tanned. I know, what a weird mix of features it must be, right? But trust me, this generation has lead to a rather strange coarse.
In about 13 minutes, he should exit the building to appoint a meeting with his client, heading towards a payphone constructed onto the sidewalks, 2 blocks away, with this small opportunity I should just simply lure him elsewhere, most likely a small alley that provides isolation.
Knowledge like this, I didn’t inherit when I was younger of course, that’d obviously be quite abnormal. I could guess that the surgeons did something as well towards my brain besides forgetting certain..memories was it? Not sure, but most likely did screw up something else in there to have resulted with me being able to accurately predict future doings and statuses of other human beings.
I turned back around to lean against the solid substance of the building, wanting to seem like any other person would look if they had spare time with no creative ideas towards activity.
It wasn’t too long till I heard a small echoing ring being made from the entrance door not too far away.
It was him.
The soles of his footwear grinding very slightly against the covered concrete could be heard softly. His figure coming into view slowly, his expression seemed rather distracted. Mostly full of frustrations having to be put up with for this meeting. Well good thing I’m coming along to cancel it.
