Emotions were concealed inside rib cage of his eyes. Already, he imagined shouting at his tutor concerning remembrances of an altered, transformed, robbed, brainwashed childhood he barely recalled fragments together --- how far he thought himself protected of the bars of an somber fairytale, how far he thought himself free of an former prison … Or, how tirdeness he was to always be forced in one way or another to run. Running taking various meaning inside current circumstances. Running from an organization who was probably hanging around in middle of society, running away from his past traumas who remained there, in which, expected maybe his tutor who accepted improbability of his confessions, no one could believe him … Maybe he imagined all of it. Maybe he was maybe paranoid because something terrible happened inside his childhood --- an father he barely remember the face suddently gone, an mother who tried so hard to protect him who left him … so many hours focused over studies, hard-work studies, high tech knoweldge, medical notions. Did he imagined also all the blood ? Did he imagined also all the murders ? For one second, reality of discretion was close to break apart --- he wanted hit closer ground surface as a reminder this was currently the present, this had been a past he remembered. Anguish who crossed over his body was far too much familiar feelings. He sensed he had been running all his life, always running. Harshness of his brown eyes remained an silent anchor. He would have to get them by being smart. They would have to surviving that situation by being smart. He would exploding his frustration at his tutor ! ❝ Except if we manage to be smarter and temporarily shy away from them. ❞ He commented slowly inside a slow voice, remaining attentive to every move of the people chase them. ❝ Unless you can cast a spell that can knock them unconscious. We can run, but how far can we ? How far until we have to fight them ? ❞ If it's was WICKED … he was … in trouble. There will no more tutor to have comfort with. No more possible future. If that organization ever found him again, him who lived inside an secretive side of darkness, who discovered worst of society, he would be dead by the end of the day. He was an survivor after all. He was an abnormality to begin with --- society's daylight had been a blessing he wasn't supposed to know, in middle of that normality who looked so strange. Slowly, he controlled every move of his heartbeats. Stress would triggering everything else … ❝ I could put my fist in their face but I risk getting caught. Ah, would need a nice discouragement … ❞ If he would need to run, he would run --- nevertheless, he would take badly if someone dare told him he was imagining things.
