"….-id!"
"…-avid!?"
"David!?"
I wake to someone calling a name.
My name? That … isn't my name… is it?
I can hear the calling, accompanied by something else, banging? Blearily I peel open my eyes to a small room, one that certainly isn't where I fell asleep last night. My lips pull themselves into a frown.
Where did I fall asleep? Home. Home?
"David? You're going to be late, hurry up, I'll drop you off today!"
Pulling myself off the bed, closer to a couch cushion on a table than any bed I've ever slept on, I take a look at the cracked walls, the dreary stains, and the trash dumped into the corners. Everything looks closer to some rundown prison rather than a bedroom. Making my way to the only door. Since when were doors so large? Pulling the door open reveals a room, larger than where I had woken, but still cramped and claustrophobic.
Where am I? Since when did I live in a dump like thi- no, no I've always lived here.
"Mijo, hurry up and get changed, you're running late enough already." There, by the cramped kitchen is a woman with a bright yellow jacket with a balled up set of clothes in her hands. Love, warm, safe. Pushing me back into… my room she shoves the balled up cloth into my hands. Not cloth. Holding it in my hands proves it to be sturdier than cloth, though still soft. Unfolding it reveals a rumpled uniform, "I paid for the washing machine, make sure to let me know next time it runs out."
"Huh?" Her eyebrow lifts, as if asking a question.
"Haaahhh. If you dont hurry and get changed…" She trails off while raising a sandal menacingly, enough for me to recognize that I should just get changed and worry about what's happening after.
"Ri-right…" Taking the bundle of clothes I close the door behind me to change. Stripping myself I pull the tight form fitting clothes on. Glancing around… my room, I find a mirror propped up in the corner, held up by a trash bag. "Huh?" looking back at me in the mirror is a young man, likely not even an adult yet. I lift an arm, and the kid in the mirror does the same, running a hand through my hair I take in, my appearance. Just a kid, Latino, something about it is familiar.
̷̻̤̖͇͚̹͓͐̉̓́̓ͅC̸̨̛͙͈͈̅͂̑̽̓̄̏ỳ̸̡̢̡̛͉͔̹͍̮̣͉̙̜̪͔͔͖̟̥̹̫̻̹͈̦̄͌̓̎̀͑̑͒͐̿̋̂̑̽̈́́͊̈́͌̿̑̒̚͘͘͘͝͝b̵̨̡̢̮̼̥͉͇̪͕̺̫͓͎̮̞̫̜̭̦͙͈̭̲̪̥͈͇̙̽̌̉̍̏̋̈́̍͌̐͒͑͒̎̅̒̇̆̓͌͂̃͌̈́̽̒̒̔̆̿͌̂̿̈́̔͘͘͠e̵̡̡̡̜͎͚̼̘͇͉̹̩̜͔͕̠̠͈̤̮͎͈̺̼̞̫̺̼̫͍̺̬͎̗̦̜̮̩͇͓̣̗̙̓̓̈͊̓̈́̊̋̿̔̐̈́̊̆̀̉̓̇̋̊̌͗͊̔̅͑̋̑̉̉̑̈́̇̾̍̿́̚̚͜͝͝͝͠r̶̨̧̡̢͙͕̹͙̼̤̥͎̻̞̰̘̪̬̫̣̺̝͉̪̬͔̺̳̩͚͍͔͈͙͇͉͕͖͔͍͙̽̑̾̾̀̓̌͑̌̓̅͑̆̔̒͗́͒̀̉̍̆͋͐̈́͛̀̀͝͝p̷̢̡̛̛̛̹̮̹̱̖͓̖̮̥̞̣̠̪͕̫̥͇͖̜̼̞̘̺̙̞̘̽̀͑̈́̒͌̎́̆͗͐̍̐̾͋͛̎̉͒̑͑͐͌͐̎̍̇͗̓́̉̂̈́̃̋͒̌͘̕̕͘͜͜͜͝͝͠ͅu̴̡̨͉̻̤̠̭̙̹̼̳͖̝̙̟̪̤̟̬͖̺̞̯̗̰͚̻̘͈͋̾͊͒̿͗̀͗͑͌̌͊̈̓̿̋͊̆̒̽̒̓̏̋̔̒͘̚͝͠ņ̴̢̛̛͙̫͔͈̹̖̩̙̙̱̖̪̩̪̰͍͎̭̹̩́̄̏͒͋̒̅̓̂̋́͒͐̔̆̉́̄͛̓͗͆͌͐̄́͊͂̌̋̾̃̊͌̏͘̕̕̚͘͜͝͝͝͝͝ḳ̴̛͇͓͉͙̣̥̥͓̳̱̭͔̠͇͎̌̑̾̋̆͋̿̄̎̏̈́͊̿́̑͐̆́̿͗͛̀̈́͐̆̀̌͐́̈́̓̋̀̀̏̑̐͒̅̿̿̎͊͆͒̚̕͝ͅ
Where in the world am I?
The first thing I noticed after changing, I'd been pulled along by this woman and pushed into a yellow car before being driven off to who knows where, is the trash. All throughout and everywhere I look there's trash dumped and piled, on the floor, against walls.
The next thing had been the people. Nothing seemed right, all of it strange, from people with bright colored skin to others with arms larger than their own torsos, I swear there was a cyborg or two we passed by. Strangely enough I couldn't help but admire those that we passed, how preem is that?
"Preem?" It comes out under my breath, I know the word, I think I do.
"I've a feeling I'm not in Kansas anymore." I mutter taking glances above at the spiraling metropolis I've found myself in.
"What was that David?" There's that too, glancing to my left and meeting the concerned eyes of this woman that continues to call me David.
That's not my name, but… I can't recall what my name is.
"It's nothing." Grunting I turn back to the window glaring at the buildings passing us by.
"Are you sure you're doing okay today?" Her concern would be more heartwarming if I knew who she was, though some part of me couldn't help but appreciate the attempt. A part of me felt safe with her, like I could rely on her, and that was the only reason I hadn't had a complete meltdown.
"I'm fine."
"Well, we're almost at Arasaka Academy, just wait a few more days until my paycheck comes in and we can update your wreath, but until then just try to work with it for now." She smiles at me even as she pulls out what looks like a pair of lego goggles, passing them over to me.
"Right… I- I'll do that." Holding them in my hands doesn't help much either, they look like a pair of cheap goggles you'd find being sold at any corner for cheap, bringing them up to my face makes it clear I have absolutely no idea how to use them as the lenses are filled with something, that I can't see through.
Hopefully this academy doesn't have much in the way of expectations, I don't even know where I am, let alone how to use any of this future tech.
And wasn't that a shock, learning how futuristic everything was, I had ports in my neck, cyborgs were walking around, and there were holographic projections everywhere.
Yet even as advanced as this place is, there's still shit everywhere, nothing has changed.
Frowning at my reflection in the window, I consider the other problem I've been having. My thoughts are constantly disagreeing, clashing, I'm not sure if the thoughts are my own. Like I'm being stretched back and forth, that everything is normal, that I'm exactly where I should be. But another part screams how out of place everything is, that I don't belong.
"Alright mijo, I've got something to deal with today, but when you're done I'll come and pick you up alright? We can spend some time together, go out for a bit?" Almost desperately she pulls me closer for a hug that I hesitantly return. "Remember, I love you okay?" Pulling back she looks me in the eyes searching for something. Seeming to find it she smiles widely at me and I can't help but smile back.
"Y-yeah, sounds good, and I… I love you too." The words spill out unconsciously, this woman, she's important to me. I can try my best, for her at least a smile hesitantly pulling the corner of my lips up. I'm not sure why, but there's a tightening in my chest as she nods before shooing me off towards the imposing steel building that towers above us.
"David Martinez. Your tardiness has been added to the record, please make sure to not be late in the future." A large hologram speaks up from the front of the classroom, appearing to be the teacher for this class.
"Umphh!" Finally found my class, god why does everything have to look the same around here.
Leaning back into the barebones seat I can finally relax. Though looking at my classmates I can't help but compare my 'wreath' with theirs, my lips curving down at the clunky goggles in my hands.
- Call: Katsuo -
I glance to my left, three punks all glaring at me, the closest ones eyes flash a bright yellow as he tries to… call me? My eyebrows rise as I pick up the call, it happens easily.
Katsuo: [Worthless rat if you're going to be late, don't come in at all.]
David: [Some things came up, why the hell do you care.]
Katsuo: [Your shitty face is ruining my mood]
David: [And I care because?]
'Tch' just some two bit gonks, no point in entertaining their bullshit. The call is disconnected as the hologram calls out "David Martinez, please log into the Green Room for meditation."
Bringing the wreath up I slide it over my eyes and lean back the room around me changing from dim lights and dreary steel walls to a bright forest, in an open clearing.
Thi-.̵̛̻͇̮̈́͆̑̒͋̓̈́́̌̋̚͝͠͝g̸̡̡͎̰̬̬̙͎̻̠̗̟̜͙̲̯̼͎̠̼̒̂̿̒r̶̛͚̖̜̙̳̪̥͎͙͇̜͈͍̪͐͗̎͂̓̓̐̅̚3̴͕͎̱̒͗͛̎͐̅̋̾͘5̴̧̧̨͓̹̺̠͈̝͍̥̖̫̝̰͔̟̫̤̗̤̪̋͊t̸̨̰̞͈̟̔̏̽̋͌̊͑̒̎͐̀͒͛͆̽͒̍͛̆͝͝͠~̴̧̧̺̼͙̹͍̻̻͍̞̞̠͍͔̮̘͌̿!̴͔͚̰̭̼̠̤̀̇̄̈́͂ę̷̨̢̬̝̯̘͎̱͇͐̒̽̎̑̎̿̄̃͋̉̓͌͘̚ĝ̶̡̡͎͓̺͚̰̭͍̦͚͔̤̪̫̺̩͍̼̈́͗̎͜͜8̷̡͕̼̩̖̩̙̠̼̫̼͓̞̽͌͊͊̓͜͜͝ͅ6̸̢̛̥͎͎̮̮̤͖̬̮̜͕͚̣͈͈̲̦͈͊̽̉̓̑̒̉̌̈̿̂̾̄̓̇̈́̃̕̕͝7̸͔̍̊̇̄5̸̨̲̗̱̤͖̻̻̰̖̜̦̣́̃̃̓̄̈́̇̍̑̈́̿̈͆̌̂̊̕͠q̶̖̫̼̺̣̞̬̪̭̼̰̱̘͓̬̪̮̃͜ͅ?̴̷̢̡̢̡̭͈̰̖̗̲͚͓͓̪̲̼̻͎̟̗͉̝̩̟̭̺̖̭̜͖͓̓̀̌͑͐̈̈́͛̔̓̈̓̚͝ͅ'̸̨͓̼̘̜̹̗̭̗̖̻̗͓͉̮̻̩̰̅̉̓͜͜ö̵̧̧̢̳͕̤̖̤̭̜̤͎̺͙̬͉̞́̂̇̅̎̂͛̎̓̈́̉̕̕ͅj̷̢̼̰͖͙̤̬͔́̐̌͒̈̓̉̌̏̾́̽͋̓̅̐̾̾̈́̕d̴̡͔̤̻̦͎̋̊́̎̃ͅͅͅŝ̵̠͇͛̀̊̀̿̐͆̋̀͋͝3̸̡̢̧̱̖̲̭͈͇̭̯̩͕͚̰̗̣͚̻̏̏̋ ̴̛̼͙̩̭̖̖̥͓̩̲̻̞̲̓̔͑̇̐̿̀̈́̍̐̈̂́́̇͐ͅ5̵̨̛̜̼̰̬̰̭͙̻̜͓̖͌̆̉̄͌̃̑̍̃̆̒̃̾̊̍͐̾́̈́̅̃̕͘?̷̡̡̧̙̣͔͉̯͇̜̖̠̟̞͚̤̥̦̣̠̿̅̈́̽̈́̋̈́̍̈̑́̿̓̂̍̕͜͜͠'̸̧̧̨͈̺͙̜̼̣͎̟̩̭͔̳̤͇̒̊̐̈́̇͆̚'̶̡̝͈̙͇̣̯̘͚̪̖͕̫͕͕̖̈́̎͑̿̆͆͂̑̂͆̒̔͛̊͝͝;̸̧̧̩͎̫̪͇̯̮̼̲̹̩̐̾̃̈́͑̉͒̉̉͛̓͑͊́̀̓͘/̵̡̩͈̦̻́̿̉̌́4̵̢̤͓͔̜͖̝͈͇͎͔̞̜̹̹̳͛̏̄̂̇͆̂̿̅̇̒͊̿̆̅͝͠t̸̫̞̙̼̝͈̥̒̿͑̉͒̌̐̏̓̕ͅą̷̧̝͍̖͎͈̥̫̤͛̈́͗̽̓̒f̶̡̩̲̝̤̟̭͍͈̭̲̰̝̈́̃̈́̋̿͝v̵̧̢̩̩̳̜̱̥͉̞̖̹̼̼̈̀̒͛͋͘Q̴̧̞̺̳̣̼͇̣͆̊͌̎̀̊́̃͂̒̏̿̆̾̐̈̿̈̕͠͝Ẅ̸̛̰̰̇͛̌̇̉̀̽́̋̌͛͐͠͝͝ͅ0̶̧̻̜̺̼̍͛́̍̽̏̈͋͝2̵̧̨̛͉̤͙̣̺͔͈͖̹̱̟̗̝̯̱̞̾̆̈͑̑͊̄̉̿͠-̴̡̨̢̧̗̤͖͓̺̝͕̞̲̝̖͝ͅ'̵̫̪̠̠̝͔͎̺͊̊͋̈́̋̒͛͋̃̓̐̆̂͋̆̑͆͝͠͝.̵̛̬͊͐̆̈́͗͛̈́̀̉͑̑̏̈̍̇̃̋̕'̴̧̢̨̹͈̭͕̺͈̬͖͍̩̫̦͇̫̗̕R̸̡̧̨̛̩͇̝͙͉̤͕̠̲̭͔̻̯̲̥̳̠͗̂̿̐̒̓̒̋̀̿͑̋̈̇͝g̵̻͇̘͍̬͎̋̔̎͑̒͠ ̵̧̨̛͎̠̻̦̽̅̒̇̎͐͐̋ş̶͉̘̯̭̯͖̘̮̖̯̥̞͓̠͓̖̦͚̍͑͛̿͆̀̃͒̀̊̇͗̿́̏̄̔̔͗͗͊̒̕͝ḑ̶̙̙̓̃v̵͖͔̟͎͔̼̠̜̀̊̃̓́͑̒̋͐̿̓͝͠ͅͅņ̶̙̲̮͉̺̳̪̟̬̯̫̻̺̯͎͓̏̎̉̾̀̓̋́͌̕͠ͅk̶̨̼̺͎̝̬͇̝̲̗̙͉̭̀̀̒͆͋̎͒͋1̷̨̢̛͚̖̤͎̗̺̝̘̟̣̜̘̠̠̦̘̲̖̦̞͑̂̈́̈́̾͌̇͊
Ah Shit! Groaning aloud as pain spikes through my head, I can barely pay attention to the discussion the woman, Gloria Martinez the principal had said, is having.
"Ĭ̵̛̛͈̝̦͕̼͎͓̘͂̑͋́t̸͕͕̏̃̔͆͊̄̀͌͘͝͝'̵̤̮͚̩͂̃͌̂͘s̶̱̮̤͉͉͇̬̏ ̶̢̛͓͕̖̭̬͖̬̕… -ò̷͓̼̘̲̙̑̽͝ͅb̸̛͍͙̜̖̦͍̠̳͔̳͇͕͌̐̿l̴͍̣̗͇͕͖̺͝e̸͕̱͓͉̥̘̯̫̭̣̯̼̽̆m reallȳ̴̧̪̃̐̽̈̑́͋͘.̵͖̱̦̜͎̥̟̙̂̓̋̅̓͝ Wě̸̻̺̮͇̮͚̬̞̟̻͇͊͗̉͆͐̀̉̀̏̚c̸̛̜̤̹͌̔̽͑̓̇͊͂å̶̱̥̂̈̀́͛͐̆̏̍͌ń̸̗̫̼̬̲̣͕͓̜̦̥̝͠ ̴̞̖̞̻͎̟͓̫̠̩͊̂̌̇͊͒a̵̡͈̘̯̣̲̘͈̝̖̩̘̅̿̽̍̈́̑̓͌̎̊̚f̵̨̹̯͖̝̤̲́́̎̀̏́̑̕͘͝f̷̬͒̅̔̈́̌͝o̸͔̥̦͇̤̜̩̝̱̩͚̅̿̈r̵̟̔d̴̢̙͙̅͗͝ ̸̜̦̦͔́̒̐̊̓i̸̻͉̻̗͍̞̪̎̊͋̓̃͗̽̋͑t
"̶̢̪̲͕̙͕̄̈̾̀͜I̶̛͙͕͋͝ ̷͖̝̹̪̘͒͒͗̔̚͜b̴̛̹̺̟̩̐̓ͅȩ̶̺̮̳̹̥̈́͋̌͠ͅl̸̛̞̟̼̠̜̾̄́̈́̈́̊͊iev̸͖̦̪̪̭͇̇͘͠ẹ̸̎͂͌̋ ̵͙̘̰̦͕̾t̴̮͍̠͚̪̼͇̠̓͗̀́̿͘͘͝h̸̥͊̓- ̶̭̩͖͉̪̳̹͋͆̀́̍͒̓̏a̸̧͂̔̍͑̓̚̕͝ ̷̩͕̪̱̣̗͆̌̑̓͛́̽͗͜g̷̛͇̻͖̗͆̽̽̌͆͠ǫ̶͉̩̻̺͈̥̿̇́̓͛̕̚o̵̙͂̇̿͂̎͋͝͝ḓ̷̨̛̜͗̓̌͛̇ ̸̨̋̋͂̍͘ö̷̡̫̥̩̻̲͍́̂̌́ͅp̶͕̖̯͐͜͝p̶̼̖͌̅̔̄͘̚o̵̳̘̱͈̦͆̊͘͝ṛ̸̨̛̤̬̫̏ţ̵̫̠͖͓̘̹͊ų̷̻̝͙̗͕͊̉́͝n̸̲͎̮͖̩͑̀͐ity tǫ̸̢̛̟̼͇̮̓ ̷̛͇̣̔̿̀͆̕͘r̶̛̻̺̀̃̂̽͜e̵̛̫͍͌̓̀̓͐͐͂c̶̨̯͚̻͍̲͉̤̃̎̇͐́̈́́ǒ̶̺̣̿n̶̤͛͗̈́sï̶̹̘̈́̒̇̂̐̕͝d̸̘̖̙̾̓e̴̯̝̦̯̦͇͆͛͘ŕ̶̭̻̞͕̲͇̊͘̕͝ ̶͚̌́̈́D̷̨̞͇̺̖̬͛̇̒̇a̶̙͎̬̜͋͌͌̒v̶̘͌i̴̧̮͈̘̼̓̾͝͝d̵̨̮̝̠͙̞̍́͑̂͊͌͝'̶̣̰͓͖͍̖̟̓ş̴̲̲̗̭̘̠́̊̋ ̴͕̝̘̘̘̟̈́͒̈́ş̵̨̛̝̜̲͂͆̏͒̐͜͠ͅi̵̢̦̺̱̺͕͖̽͗̓̅́̋̅̚tua̴͚͑̽̏̓̾̎t̴͇͛́͛̌͗̕i̶̩̖͍̯͙̣͊̑ò̵̧̠̪̩͇͐͐̂̂̈́n̵̛̺̪̗͚̺̙̈́̎̍̀̽̒͘.̷̲̖̭̮̍̆"̴̩͎͐̈́̃
"̷̨̠̝̀̆̐H̵̗̟̼̱̠͛ͅͅė̷̘̼̳̭̔ ̴͎̫̠̝̳̀̔̃̇̈ͅḫ̵͔̻͚̟͉͈̓̈́͑ả̸̙̻̘̦͙̭̘̬̓̎̋͑͝s̶̞͆̿͠͠ ̴̬̫̲̺̏̂͘͠͠͠t̴͍̪̱͓̏̈́͋́̅̒̊ŏ̵͍̬̣̥͔͆̎͋̈̾ ̸̨̡̩̙̝̌̀̿̍͂͛̿ş̶̹̼͔̆̂̑͌͘t̵̩͍͔̗̼̀͛̈́̉̄͛̈́͘ḁ̷̛̺͚͕̲̤̰̺̊͆ý̶̲ ̵̺̤̊̈͑͂͛͝h̸̝̩̟͓̝̣̝̓͗͗̈́̎̽e̷̡͆r̸͎̂͘ḛ̵̩̯͛.̷̧͕̯͖̤̞̂ ̶̛̹͓̃͂̽͗̋͑͘ͅH̵̩̹͈̄e̵̘̓͌̇́ ̵̱̭̝͑͐̎̈́̄̔̽d̷̛̖͙̱̬̱͂͋͛̽̈́̒̽e̶̦͕͛̾̑͐̍̍̀͝s̶̛̛̥̼̥̗͉̀̊́̎̚ę̷͇̯͚̦͔̗̞͛̈̔̆r̸͚̔̃̌̊̅̐̕v̷̛̗̯͍͗̈́́̇͝͝ͅȩ̸̬̟͍͛̀̍́̃͝s̷̛̞̤͐͊͋͐̍͐͠ ̶̱̮̲͍̪̩̍͠t̷̨̠͓̬̥̹̦̥̿̏̄̿̃̓ḩ̴̳̥̲̿̾̊́̀̇͝i̸̢̡̙̞̣̳̖͋̉s̸͉̲̲͑̊̀̕͝ ̸̢͚͚͇̹̬̱̬͊̿̐͒̈́̏͝é̵̹̯́̚͝d̴̰̖̼̭͖͈̅̉̌̓͒̾̀́͜ͅų̴͇̠̘̯͍̇̌̉͜c̴͎͐̋́͑̃a̷̠͔̓̅͐̿̈́͝t̴̤̥̿̾̓i̴̠̘̘͒ó̸͖̤̯͚̪̇͆̐̐̾̌͊n̴̠̝͂ ̴͓̒̔̐̒̾̌ą̵̮̟͂̀̂̆s̶̠̝̣̩͎̞̅̏͋̈́̓͂̕͝ ̶̻̳̙̩̱̳̯͖́̈͋͗͌̕m̵̧̦̰̩̭̭͖̊́͌̀̚͠u̵͈͇̥̖̟͓̓̆̏̈̑͘̕c̶̭̹͌̔͗̔͝͝h̴̳͇̾̊̀̊̅͆ ̷̨̛͖̙͇̤͓̩̦͑̇͆a̷̲͇̯̗͇̠̒̒͌̌̈͝͠ş̴̱̮̫̣̼͚́̎͛̓̄̊̀͘͜ ̶̛̱̮̅̓͒̕ę̶̪̘̻̘̻̹̥̄́v̷̢̢̜̜̤͕̊̔ḝ̸̤̪̫̜̪̱̈̃r̶̨̛͍̗̈̐̉̈́͂̕͝y̸̨͓̺͚̗̎̈́̾͛͌͋ ̵̗̈k̷̮̯̙̈̆̌͑̀̕̕í̵̢̙͈̩̥̀͂̈́̾͋̉d̴̠͍̥͐̽̎͋ ̴̧̢̻̻̺̲̭̉h̵̙̪̳̏e̶͚̩̱͌̽̈͜͝ŗ̷͕̰͉̔͋̃͌͝e̶̦͖͔̜̰͋̾͗͒.̴̛̠̬̑̇̀̊.̵͓͍̆̎̎̿̃̅̊͝.̷̢̳͔͈̙̺̚"̶̛̹̲̖̘̭̹̋͑̓̊̾͗
"Didn't I tell you to get the upgrade?"
W̸̤̹̘̳̟̟̲̯̊ḩ̴̤̦̱̦͌͗̕a̵̪̠̬͍͍̫̲̩͑̋̈́͊͘̚͝t̸̯̗̻͕́͒̀̂̾͘ ̷̹̪̪̖͉̍̆̄͒̌̐̍̔̍̕ͅu̷̧̬͔̹̯̓̈̋͌͐̋̑͘p̵͓̰̤̳̜̽͐͗̎̿̈͐͐̅̚g̴̡̯̖͔͕̘̾͊̒̓ŗ̸̺̤̗̪͙͔̗̯͇̀̽͋́̿͛͝ȃ̴̭͓̮̱͇̉̄̈͛̐d̴͓̲̼̹̫̬̮̱̣̙̟́́̍̾̆͗̿̍̈́̓̕è̵̢̲̪͔̆̀͋̃?̸͎͍͕̲̙̱͚́͂̍̈́̃̏̚͠
"Sorry…" It hurts, why does it hurt?
"If you're gonna apologize, don't do it in the first place."
W̵̡̨̡͎̪̩̞̊̏͗́ẖ̷̘͓͍̖͎̞̈́̍ȧ̸̩͒͒̌͗̐̊́͊̚͝t̷͚̻͗̓͒̅͒̅͊̓͘ ̶͚̟̙̞͈̗̠̫̂͐̈́͒͘d̷̢̢̰̅͒̐͋͘̕͠i̶̘̤̦̭̘̙͒̇̎̎̒̽́̐̓͜͝d̸̨̲͍͖̙̲̘͊̂̏̅̇̇̀͝ ̴̼̗̃I̸̞͙̩͗̉̓̽͌̒̈̕͝ ̶͙̠̠͔͍̙̹̫̓̑͒̂̒́́̒̕͜d̸̖͕̮͕̣̙̈́̎̋͋͜͠ơ̸͚͓͔̒̌͐̄?̶̨̢̲͈͚̝͉̻̭̭͕̈́̊̽̊̈́̏̾̚͘͝ ̶̺͗̃̂͝W̵̪̪͖̮̜͂̃͛̑ͅh̷̢̥̙̳̲̋̔ÿ̷͔̱̯͉͎̻̮̘́͂̉͌̔ ̴̻̾̄̾͗̈́̂͗̊̃͋͐̚̚͠͠a ̸͙̦̗͈̣͗͂̏͊́͌͠a̵̡̲̻̔͑̅̎̓̒̾̋̃̕r̸̤̎́̕ë̵̯̣̘̱̪͙̼̼͖̘́̀͜ ̵̨̤͎̈͒̍̉̚ỹ̵̜̼̠̲̭̩̖̃͆̌́͑̓͂o̷͖̥͂̆̉̀ͅu̴̪̜̹̹͓̰̦̹͕̜̓́̾ ̶̳̳̤̃̅̽ṻ̵̧̼̹̮̳͖̺̹̝́̒̇̃̐̿ͅp̶̤͆s̷͌̔͜e̴̛͔̘̺̟͛̃̔͆ͅt̵̤͛́̄͐͗̈̆̄͗͌͝?̵̨̡̱̼̠͍͇̤͇̘̌͋͂͆̕͝ͅ "
"I'm sorry."
"I know it's hard, nobody in this city cares. We aren't even second class citizens. I know." There's a crack in her voice. "But Dee… it's only gotta be this way for now. I want you to make something for yourself." Sniffling now. "I want to know that when I'm not here anymore… that you'll be fine. When that time comes, you won't have to work yourself to the bone just to try and survive in this city." Her eyes so full of hope glance at me, and suddenly I'm out of breath. I can't breath. My eyes flash, like static muffling my vision.
I̴̱̋̉̾͝ ̷̨̻̘͙͍̠̲̜̯͔̖͚̲̪̬̇̍w̷̡̛̱͉̞͉͎͕̾̀̉̅̉̑̌̋̍̚͜͝a̷̮͋n̷̡̡̺̭͚͈̪̤̝̝͖̤͒̌̅̌͋̈́̆͛͒t̶̢̯̥̩̭̖̹̟̞̪̀͐̏̇̀̐͛̂̏̅̔͝ ̶̨̡̡̡̩̪̬͔̟̮̙̱͉̎̅̒͋̌ͅÿ̴̦̺̰̺́͊̅̈̋̎̌̅͒̈̂o̶͔̠̰̤̙̜̞̫̱̓͐͒̉̀̈́̆̾̋̈̍̌̒͘̚ͅu̵͎̞̫̺̜͚̳͓̓́̂ ̴̮͍̬̟̭̋̓͊̋̀̾̒̾̕͜͝ţ̶̨͇͍͓͖͑́̈́̾͂̉͒̂́̊̄͆ͅö̶̟̰̝̗̳̩́̂̌͋̐͘̕ ̸̬̟͈͙̖̔̓͐̆̌̂͝w̷͉̬̖̹̻̜͉̘̞̝̼͑̉̈́̈́̑̀̏̈́̈̔̚̚͝͠ͅǒ̶̫̱̩̘̈́r̸̢͙̺͔̬͙̗̯̲̝͍̮͍̀͑̈͛̈́̍k̵̗̭̞̝̭̽̐͐̆̉͌̽̒͐̆̂́͠ ̸̢̛̱̘̞̫͍̙͍̫͖͔̲̥͈̞̄̇͛̈́͋͗̐̕͠͝ḩ̸̹̝͔͎̱̥͔̻͙͍̺̠̞̩͌͐̋̀͜͜á̵̯̋͗͊̾͗͐r̴̢̳̱͖͉̭̯̲̺͉̜͈̓͑̓̆̌̌̊́͝ͅd̷̜̱̞̠̊̀͑̔̅̓̅̓͜,̵̨̮̥̭̦̈́͋͑̃͂͘͜ ̷̭͔̝̋͐̂̆̍͐͂̏̌͂̀̌́̋̔̐̑r̴̢̨͍͚̥̥̫̬͔̭̣̲͓͖̓̽͆̌̑̓̑̚͜ͅi̵̧̧̨̼͔̱̱̞̤͕̗̩͍͍̮͛͂̈̈̿͆́͑̔͊͜ͅs̴̩̣̭͓͔̜̄́̌̈́̋̏́͂̈́̅̊ȇ̸̮̯͕͍͙̮̀͜ ̷̧̂̋̈͋̐͐̇͗̂́́̅͜͝͝ų̷͗̈́̓̀͊̄́̄̆̕͝p̸̢̚,̵̢̱̤͍̞̯̥̏̒̄ ̷̧̛͈̰̝̮̱̳̦̜̘̺̹̻̥̪͗̃̌̀̂̏̌̐ͅa̸̦̽̈́̂̋̔̃͛̉͋͊̽̊̾͘͝͠ń̴̨͇̖̄̎̇̉̂͌͠d̶̙̻̘͉̝̠̭̟̥́̆̾́̓̈́̋͑͛̽͝ ̵̡̡̛̝̫͍̭͓̗͙̪̻̼͈̩̬̇̇̍͂͝g̶̡̗͚̻͓̪͍͎̬̀͐͝e̸͓̰͚̦̭͙͓̣̰̽̔͠t̸͙͎̍͛̋̋̄͛̔͂̐̓̈̆͊͂ ̶̜̤̫̙̩̼̅̈́̀͋͑̃̓t̶͍͗̀̅͒͊̈́̄̔̃̕o̶̗͚̼̘͙̘̺̥͎̾̓̇̓̅̑̓̊̉̊̋͠͝ ̴̛̹̝͉̹̭͈̰͒̎̈́̈̓͋́͂̍̍̋͒̊̎͠t̴̨͖̻͇̬̖͖̬̲̜͇͈̣̎̃͛̿̓̅̇̇͗͜ẖ̷̡̢̥͕̹͇͉̝̖̜̠̠͇̠̾̈́͐͂̉̽͝͠ě̸̡̨̛̝͙̝͕͔͚̻̜͕̺͉̗͋͋̐̄̇̿͊͌̐͘̚͘̚̕͜͠ ̴̡̨̻͕̖̗̖͎͈̙̳̺̬̻̏̓̂̔̋̔͋̊̔͆̀̇̈́̚͝͝t̴̢̨̢̛̛͎̤͇̣͓͓̪̤̙̞͔̪͍̫͌́̉̔̔̀̔̄̒̚ǫ̵̪̮͖̪̲͔̙̼̤̪͉͚͉͐͆͑̿̋͑̋̏̀̍̅͜ͅp̷̬̝̋ ̵̢͈̘̱̗͕̖̻̼̀͒̄̊̒͝f̷̡̢̩̙͍̱͔̞̜̰̦̳̒͂͌̍͋̋̈́͜l̸̛͔̺̘̮͖̣͔̼͑́͋̂̋̓͛̿̔̒̇͘͘͜͝ǫ̴̨͚͉̩̘̣͕̭̩̦̟̫̇͋̾͗̀̚ͅȍ̸̼̣͎̃̅̚͠͝͠ṙ̵̨̘͙̭̭̖͕̼̰͎͎͓̭̲̐̋̈́́̌̓̅̀̎̓͜͝͠͝ ̷̛̬̝͓͐̑o̸̼͉̯͓̤̱̻̺̊̓̕f̸̳͉͈̱͙̤̜̙̲̪͔͎̀̅̄́͒̒̓͌̒̓̈̊̀͝͝͠ ̸͉̥̽͆͛̃̀̆͒̈́͐̿͝A̶̢̡̠̩͈̰̲̦̰̝̍͛̈́͊̒̈́̆̈̋̀̕͘r̴̭̬͚̪̪̟̞͇̭̬̘̬̖͍͠ͅä̴̻́͐́̽̈́s̷̡͚̥̫̖̪̰̍̽̄̑̒̈ą̵̼̪͓̭̱͉̪̹͔͓̱͐̒̏ͅk̷̦̀̇à̷̢̼̭̋̈̈̈́͑͋̂̓ͅ ̵̺̰͑̍̀̈́̽̀̀͂̈́͐̍̚͘̕̚T̷̨̢̡͇̪̺͉͔̜̳̝̑͌̐̊ó̵̧̔̐̿̋̉͛́̒̌͊͘͘͘̚w̷̡̡͈̠̝̯̺̲͚͓̭̮̣̣̪̰̅̋̐͐͒̀͑̐͆̽͆̐̏̃͝͝ͅë̴̡̦͔͓̪̩̭͇̦͙̜͈̬̠̺̦͛̄̍̉̌͑̏̀̽̉̓ͅr̴̘̬̖͙̹̬͂̏͆̇͆̀͠!̷̲̟͍̦̲̭̅́́̄̄͆
Unbidden, my eyes are moist, vision clearing of static only to be replaced with blurring.
"Yeah, I-I'm sorry, I'll, I'll do better for you." Is that my voice?
RATATATATATATATAT
The sound of gunfire drowns my world out. It smashes through the windows, punches holes in the car. Red orbs float before my eyes… What's happening? Suddenly everything comes into focus, the blood splatters across my face. An explosion cracks through the air, and once again everything is wrong.
The first thing I feel is pain. A quick glance shows blood flowing from bullet holes, and a scratch leaking blood, covering one of my eyes. Nothing that'll kill me. I'll be fine, this won't kill me, what about?
"G-gloria…?" Mom.
"Gloria?" Mom.
"Mom?"
Everything hurts, my hand comes up to my head, it comes away sticky and moist.
The world comes into focus around me, all fire and brimstone. There, I see her "...Mom?" In her HI-VIS jacket she barely stands out from the fire. Struggling I rip at the seatbelt holding me against the seat. The blood leaks onto my hands, it's everywhere. Dragging myself out I collapse onto the concrete, pulling myself closer "...mom?..." No response. "No, nonononono."
"HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE HELP!"
The wind hits me first, followed by the quiet hum of an engine. Trauma Team. They can help, that's what they do, help.
"P-please, my- my mom needs help."
Two of them head for mom, another turns to me, crouching as they pull out something.
"... ient."
Huh? Wh-where are they going? Mom's right there, where are they going?!
"It hurts… mom, please, please be okay."
My eyes are heavy, I'm tired, everything goes dark.
I̸̗̤͉̰̪̲̯͎͋͑̌̊́̈́͒̌͛̆͝ ̷̗̍̋ẅ̴̨̟͉͍͉͓̜́̿̔̌͜ȃ̸̝̔̆̑͑́̂͊n̸̡͖̙͍̲͉̳̫͕̲̏̑̓̕ͅt̴̨̡̡͓͕̱̤̪̫̝͙̤̲̹̗̞̖̐̌̾͑̄̅̌͋͌̒͐̉̅͒͝͝ ̸̢͇̥̝͈̭͇̦̰̽̑̃̓̆̓̀͊̋͊̌͋͠t̵̡̧̟̻͉̙̰̥̮̝͖̗̼͚̳̍͋̍͛́̃͐̎̓͊̊̄̂̚͝͝͝h̴̨̨̧͕͓͉͚͙̦̱̝͔̖̾͆͋̈́̃̅͐̃̓̐͒͊̈́̽͗̕͝͝i̴̡̧̢͍̜͎̗̩̯̺͔̘͑̇̓̐̍͐̕͜s̷̺̗̝͍͈̤̳̹̫̮̀̊̓͒̄́.̸̨͎͓͉͍͚̤͕̭̖͔̭͊̄̈́̑̋̌̇̇̔̋̄̚.̸̛̥̹̰͚̠̝̗̀̈́̐͑̍͒̉̒̐͘͝.̵̩̟͎̹͚̰͙̭͙̹̈̋̏̀̄͂̿̇̐͋̄̋̔̑̈́ ̸̨̣̺͉̹̗̯͌̿̐̃͒̀̈́̽̄̓̒̀̂̅̾͋͊f̷̮̻͎̬̖̙̘͍̖̥͕̬̀ự̸̣̻̭͍̺͔̥͈͖̳͓͉̗́̾̅̂̃́̇̇͗́̇͜͠s̶̡̡̛̳͔͍̻̤̜̘̠̫̫̗̣̥̝̒̃͐̈͗͊̄͋̏̚̚ͅe̸̥͋̾͐d̴̢̛̝͈͎͚͊̇̎̈́́͋̀̈̌̏̕͝͠ ̸̻̞̫̪͉̝̥̺͎͔́̃̏̑̽͊͛̈̍ͅr̶̝̠̣͓͈̺̥̆ȋ̸̢̛͇̝͎͋͗͂͒̐̽̒͒̎̐̎̚͘͝͝͝ģ̴̫̯̻̤̮̙̦͎̦̝͔͈̥̖̃̉̒̄͌́͑͑̑̓́̏̕͠͝h̷̡̧̢̡̟̥͚̦͎̞̘̜̥̰̯̿͂͑͐̓̇̈́̒̄̀̓̑̏̆̄͘t̵̝̼̖͎̰̓̆̋́̊̿͐̃̃̊̎̆͘̚͝ ̴̧̢̙͉͚͉̹̈́̈̿̀h̸̢͔̣̙͕̹͇̥̩̲͍̻̮̖͇̄̇̅͛̃͌͗̾̀̒̊͑̃̄̾͜ȩ̴̣̼̱̜̐̓r̴̘̞̪͑̊̀̆̄̽̑̊̄̀͐̍̅̔̕͝͝e̶̡̧̢̡̡̺̙͕̘̥̰͙̫̤͉̒.̷̧̧̡͓̦͙̥͎͌̌̑́
C̸̨̛̬̣͎̥̝̖̖̭̋̏̈̉̂͊́͗̅͐̐͐̐̄͐̄̒̂̔͜ͅa̵̗̦͚̮̖̟͎̯̺̯̮̬̫̺̤͗̇̓ͅl̵̡̩̗͇̠̪̻͉̬̟̯̳̩̖̦̈́̀̎͛̏͂ĺ̸̨̞̹̤̤̝̺̰̩͙͔̎̊̈́͝ ̷̡̢͕̲̰̪̘̒͂͝m̴̧͇̣̙̳̹̺̉̆̈́̊͛̾̈̒̔̊̓͗͊̕͘̚͜͝͝͝ȩ̷̝͔̥͍̼͙̪̲̺̝̭̝̮͉͇͍̤͔̏͜ ̶̨̨̛͚̯̝͉̫̳̳̫̰̰̹͙͔͖͎̣̊̈́͌̀́͋̂̓́̌͑̆̈́̎̋͝͝L̵̫̪͐̿̀̽͜ŭ̷̡̯̳̬̲̻̤̜̤̪̼̤̜͓̻̺̄̅͆̎͆c̵̨̱͙͔̳̬̮͙͑̆̔̈́̈́̃̓̅̕y̴͙̲̣̰̗̑̀̊͊̆͂̀̆͘͝
Y̸̩̝̣̬̞̼̠̖̲̖͙̹̘̣̞̥̼̏͐̿͊̾̈́̾͋̄͌̌̉o̶̧̻̙͓̹̞͈̝̥̯̱̞̗̭̪̟̟͓̦͋̈́̂̾̃̿̓̇͛͜ͅu̵̧̢̼̤̬̗̟̤̺͕̱͉̥̤̣͎͙̘̅̌͐̑͜ͅ ̵̧̛͎̰̾f̸̨̡̧̠̼̲͖͇͍͕̻͎̻̘͎͈̺̬̍̏̑̂͑̀̊̾̋͒̍̿̄̓̑̃̉̽͝͝ͅe̴̘̱͔̰͖̲̫̩̊͛͊͗͐̋̿̇̊͂͗̾͒̌̅̓́̚͘͝l̶̡̦͓̼͍̮̞̥͉͓͖̙̊̌̈̈́̀̕͘l̸͉̥̹͊̽̏̄̀́̋̋̅̐̀̄̈́͒̕ ̸̢̦̥̺͇̺̹̹͍̣̻̞͉̺͓͕̻̪̇̏́̐̍̃́̓̌̇̾͘͝ǫ̷̺͖̜̝͙̰̖̍̎͐̈́͗̒̐̑̅̑͋v̸̧̖̱͎̦͖̮͙͈̫̻͔̞̲̥́̂̉̀̉̾̃̚͝͝ͅͅe̶̱̹̺̜͉͖̠̓̍̒̀̍ŗ̵̛̛͍̝̮̻̐̔̀̐͗̓̌͊̓͊̕͜͝͝ͅ ̴̛̣͓͉̯̮̫̮̦̺̭̙͎̘͗̃̇̇̅͋͂̌̆͂̕t̷̢̢͈̫̭͎͍̜͍̣̦̬̠̮͎̳̹͒͌͑͒̉̆̑̾́͑͒̃̋͜͜ḩ̴̧͉̣̞͎̺̳̪̤̞͔͈̟̹͚̖̱̽̾̍̐̀͑̔͗̓̀̅̓̐̔́̏̓̓̓͑̕e̷̗̱̣̯͈̘̭͎̥̣̳̫̱̘̜̙̮̋͊̃͊͒̀̉͗̐̊̎̐́̂̾̄͘͠͝͠ͅͅ ̸̢̢̘̮̻͖̲͉̻̠͍̈͒̊̂̿͗̑̅̚̕͜͝ě̷̳̗͑́̓̋͝d̶͓̹̟̝͙͍̖̻̖̗̦̙͈̯̜̲̮͎̱̏̓̅̂̈́̌g̴̡͙͚͚̦̤͙͕̿́̌̌̔͑̌͆̌͊͐͌̎͑̍͘̕̕͝ė̷̛͎̼͛͋̀͐̈́̉̂̓͐͊̈́̽̓,̷̛̛̼͍̘̐͊̓͗̍̏̃͐̿͆̓ ̷̧̩͓̺̜̤̱̗͓͍̳̣̘͖͓̃̔̈͋̐̋̆͌̽̔̅́͘ͅṖ̸̦̮̺̰̜̖̩͔̠̝̣͎̱̼̠͜ͅų̷͖͔̭̠͕̙̦̫̗̖͖͔̭͓̰̫̼͉́̒̅̏̊̑̈́͆̅̅̊̌̔̚n̸̢̧̨͈͎͈̫̥̗̯̞͇̯͍̻̮͚̜̂́̀̽̃͌k̵̨̡̗͍͖̠̖̦̤̰̻̂̈́
È̴̛̼̟̝̀̀̑̇͑̑͒̾͆̋̈́̇̀̋̒̈́̚̕͜͝v̶̡̤͔͚͔̤͓̽̿̈́̈́̽ȅ̵̘͉͕̱͖̓̈͊̽̉́̒͘r̷̢̨͉̤̖̙̱̣͍̣͚̟̗̰̀̏̊̐͛̒́͂́̄̇̾͗̐̿̊͜ͅy̷̧̰̯͕̝̰͑̇̇̐̍͑́͌̾͋̈́̃̈́́̇̏͌̅b̵͍͈̬̉͊̏͆̓͗̋͂̋͆̈́̏̋̈̆̇͠ǫ̸̡̖̯̪̭̘̻̝͉̇͐̀͛͌̈́̀͑̅̉͒̊̽̕̕͜͝͠͝ͅd̶͎̱̤͙͎̣͉̈́̂̏̉̆͜y̶̨̫̮̘̦͍̩̺̞̜͇͈͓͈̜̘̰͉̖̱̾̾̐̂̃̑͌͒̿̌̒͗̓̉̅̉̕̚ ̴̨̺͉̥͔̙̇̿̽̋̔̊̀̂̃͝͠͝g̴̥̈͛̽̒͊͊̅̍͂́̾͊̄̀͘͠͠ȩ̶̛̝̯͔̼̘̝̲̙̣̠̘͔͔̣̠̠͓͕͊͑̑̌͒͆͗̌͌́̓̈́́̾̀̀̔̔͆̆t̸̠͋̇͛͛͠s̶̨̡̳̱̭̰͕̯͖̼͉̗͍͆̔͌̄́̅͊̏̅̓̓͛͊̾̽̈͜ ̸̨̩͋ä̷̡͍̮͔̱̯̿͛̈́̋͠ ̸̡̺̹̭͎̗̖̩̭͕͓̳̟̯̥̳̿͊̂͆̐̚͜f̸͔̤̪̘̲͙͕̺̝̞̼̳̼̳̠̯̈́͑́̉a̴̧̤̺̭͎͕̝̙͉͇̖̗̖̖̒̇̆̂̿̀̓̆̎̑͂͂̀̈́͆͛͑̋̕͝i̴͙̫̫̺̙̓͋̌͒̽̈́͑̈͂͋͋͘͠͝r̶͍͇̤̙̮͓̓͂̄ͅ ̸̡̨̫͈͖̦̞̭͔͓͚͈̠̪͌̉̈ͅs̸͍̺̲̖̫̠̲̞̖̪͚̥͓̹̹͕̫̋͂̔̄̚͝h̸̡̋̆̽̎̀͆̆̊͗̄͝͝ạ̸̧̢̟̖̗̦͖̪̳̲̹̘̫̝̖̅͑̃̽̓͆̆̃̒ķ̶̧̡̟͉͉͓̗̥͕̦̺̫̗͉̗͇̮̻͐̈́̂͑͋͊͌̎̑̾͛͜͠ȅ̶̛̲̻͙̦̻̳̣͉̹͕̺̹̟͈̋̿̆͗̍̇́̍̊̽̉̕̕͜͝͠.̶̘̪͍̪̘̳̗̔ͅ ̸̨̡̖͓̻͓͎̠̠̜̬̝͚̄͂͛̂̔͑̍̆ͅƠ̵̺̇̓̾̈̒̌͌̎̆̕̚͘͜͝͠͠͠ṅ̶̡̡̗̮̜͖͙͎̘̬̩̺̩̲̋̉͐͛̍̀͛͜͠ͅl̷̛͓̪̫̍̌̔̈́̈́͋̚͝y̵̡͔̿̆́̀͑͗̽̆͌̈́̏̿̕͝ ̶̢̧͕̘͕̘̯̭̠̗̝̲̹͖̦̝͍̤͓͗̑̏̓̂̋̑͑͗̐̈́̅̀́͋̓̚͜ͅw̵͖͆͐̓̈̈͘͠ą̵̭̺͓͇̱̦͆͒̈́͐̈́́̈́̊̊̿͆̂̈̃̌̕͝͠y̸̲̬̳͉̻̖͇̜̳͒͌̌͌̇̑̈́͘͜ͅ ̴̛͉̺̤̮̌͂̾͗̅͐͆́̀̒̐̽̾̇͒̒̈́̽̆̕I̴̡̨̢̩͎̬̘̲̟̰̺͕͉̝̲͖͍͝ ̷̢̲̱̣̞̮̩̹͎͕͈͖̈́̐̆̈̽͊͆͊͘͝ͅỏ̶͓͛́̉̾̒́̓̽̍͐̉́̎̍̄͊̿͝͝p̵̧̥̼̊̎̃̈́̓̕ę̶͍͎͎̳͗̐͂̀̿̈̏̎̌̏̆̉̇̿̈́̋̚̚͘ŗ̸̳͖̝̪̺͉̏̋̋̾̿̍̊̍͌̊͂͆́̃̏̌ą̷̭̜̲̭̭͗̔̐̎̌̅̏͜ͅṱ̸̡̫̥̩͎̺͚͚͓̭̻̱̏̿͌̏̾͊̔́͗̓̏̒͘e̴̢̝̖̤̥̘̫̺̪͓̱͐̎̌̒͑̿́̾́̔͑̌͛.̶̊͂̂̾͐͆̈̾͋͝ͅ
F̵̨̢̢̜̗̘̲͈͈̮͚͍̺̙̝̟̘̱̜̟̃̔͌̈́̐͆̄̾̚ả̶̢̛͈̳̩͉͓͇̗̖̲͈̜͎̩̂̉̅̓͠͝s̷̛̯͈̘̼̭̥̠̬̝̖̲̘̹̎̀̈́͂͐̃͐̎̓͆̋̈̃̚̕͝ṱ̷̖̈̉̑̐̔̾́̓̑̂͠ ̴̡̢̨̨̛͈̣̥̞̖̻̖̲̳̰͔̈̆̈́̓͌̀̈́̀̑̀̏̈́͐̈́͐̉͆̕͜i̶̖̭̦̘̞͇̬̖̇͋̋̀̄̏͂̆̓͛͒͒̈͂͊̈́̕͜͝͝͝s̷̠̥̜͑̏ ̷͈͕̻̦͓̹͎͙̜͔̯̙̀͒̓́͛̕͜ͅw̸̧̧̯̝̜̱̤̳̝̱̘̳̦͔̳̮̝͔̄̀̌̂̂͋̔̅́̊̚͝ȟ̵̛̺͕̥̞͐̈́͐́̆͒̅̀̊̓̋̕̚͝͝ͅa̶̡̙̹̘̮̐͂̀͆̍͝͝t̵̢̨̲̼̜̪͚̜͔̝̠̻͑̏ ̶̢͍̻̖͓̞͊͒͆̏̍̒͊̓̒̈́̆̅̈͂̓̈̊y̶̡̧̢̤͚̩͎̣͗͒̊̈́̇̑̀͗̎ǫ̴̨̰̖̗̥̖̭̝̮̬̝͈̯͕̫͙̫̎̓́̾̒̇̈́͊̔̀͌̾͐͘͝͝͝͝͠͝u̷̢̡̥̱̙̦̦͖̥̐ ̵̢͉̪̤͔͎̯̍d̴͇͓͉̼̳̫̙̫̃̈́͂̈̉͊̑́̈́̊̀͗̅͜͠ͅͅo̸̧͙͕̦̥̟̲̣̞͎̻̍̈́͌̓̀͆́͆͆̍,̸̧̬̰̯͈͉̖͙̟̝̏́̇̑̊͐͂̐̂͛̃̓̊͋͑̿̈́̓̌̈̚ ̴̘̫͍̜͔̗̼̭̾̈́̾̄̀̊͊͝r̷̛͙̝͚̺̰͒̔̀͛̎͒̅̍̕͜͠e̶͈͉̟͕̘̝̳̪̝͓̠̝̹̞͈̤̦̓̂͌̅̈̾͐͊̓̀̽͝m̴̡̧̰͕̯͉̦̣̖̗̲̻̭̦͍̤̟̘̱̔͑̃̇̈͗̉̍̉̚͘͠e̷͕̦͓̫̺̘̼͐͆̋̋̂͗͗m̸̡̡̢̝̪̭̭͖̝̞̪̙͎̾̎̅̎͂̀̓̒̚b̸̞̰̘̹̪̀̔̽̄̕ē̵̱͚̠̦̑̈́́͊͝ͅr̸̭̹̞̄̈́̀͑́̈̃͑͆̀͊̊͐͗͆̆̄̆̇̌ͅ?̵̭̐̄̆̽̓͂́͂͂̕
̶̢̧̣͈͙̟̤͉̲̙̺̤̼͚̘͓͍̉̆͂̍̾͆͒̍̌́͂͛̐͐͋̀́͋̀͜͜͝K̶͕̳̪͍̖̆͐́́ę̵̡̜͚̼̞͔̖̺̹̟̤̔̈́́̓͂̊̎̅̅̐̾͘͝ȩ̷̫̤͂̉̔̄̈̇̕p̶̧̛͈̫̬̖͔̫̬̖̭̲͔̩̫̳̝̻̓̓̈́̿͑͆̌͂͊͊̅̾̕͝ ̵͓̭̰͚̦̝̙̙͕̦̼̮̯̔R̵̡̡̛̛͖̰̳͖̤̳̲͖̻̣̬̫͐̎̉̎̿̍̔͘͜ú̶̡̫͉͎͇̏̀̒͗̆̈͐̍͛͂̑̎͂̓͂̊̆̕̚̕ṅ̵̢̢̜͉̤̻͖͙̱̲̲͔̖̖̼́͌̈́̀̊̈́̀̏́̾̂̀̀̈́̐̋̚͝͝n̷̨͚͕̳̼̖̥̟͖̩̂̇͑̇̋̒͋̋͂͌̈́̌́͘͠͝i̷̖̼͉̦͍͙̮̤͊̍́͋͑͂͛̂́̽̈̑͆͐̀͘͠͠ͅn̸͇͕̯̳̯̭͎̭̼̱̰̦͈̞̹͑̊͋̔́̉͝g̸̨̨̛̣̲̳̟̝̫̞̪͕̰̹͕̪͖̏͗̐̔̀̿̀͜
L̸̨̨̧̨̝̟̗͈̤̜̯̥̼͙͓͗̄̊͋̾͗̓̿͗̑̕͜͝ę̶̛̫̲͚͚̆̏̓͛̾̌̉̇̋̾̔̈̎̄̂́̏͝ͅt̷̡͎̰̥̝̫̹̪̯̬͎̹̺̥͎͎̥͉̤̭̀̉̔̉̀̔́ͅ'̵̡̢̛̠̟̗͚̞͚͖̗̭̯̞̹̤̮̝̟̯̓͂̊̂̊͂͂̔͋̅̐̎̔̑̐̍͗͘̚͜s̷̢̨̪̙̫̖͉̫̦͎̘̟͇̓̀͆́͗͂ ̴̦̋̇̾͂̔̉͒̌͝g̶̢̡̹͎̰͖̬͎̳̗̫̐̈́̈͋̅̀͠͠o̷̧̯̹͉̤̳̪̗̪̯̥̳̩͕̬͗̿͊̋̀̃̈́̎͘͝ͅ.̴̠̪̀̋ ̸̛̱̦̭̞͛͊̇̀̇̈́̀̃͆̚͘͝ͅ
I̸̧̭̻̣̯̙͚̱̪͉̟̞̗͉̦̬̞͔̭̠̺̐̀̈́͠ ̸̫̗̘̜̯̏r̷̛͍͈̘̓̀̉͌͆̅͘͠ȩ̷̡̧̧̭̜̝̘̥͙̦̞̞̟̫̯̰̤̝̍͐̌̃̌̈́͛̂̉̄̊̕ͅã̶͈̝̑͆̂̓̚l̴̢̛̟̙̲̻͚̮̤̤̖̠̜͇̑͆̌͒̇̒̎̾̇͂̂̚͜ḽ̴̡̋͌̍̎̾̀̄̾́̓͆͛y̵̫̥̙̰̺̖̟̖͈̻͍̼̠͔͕̙̻͙̍ͅͅ ̷̢̨̬̫̱͍̙̥̜͈̺̿̈́́̀̄́̏̒͆̄̑̿̊̐͑̆́̐̍͘͝ͅw̴̧͎̙͎̽̆̎́̆̏̓̉̏̂̿̓͋̃͌̓̎̕̚͝ą̶̢͓͙̠̜̺̳̞̖͉̤̫̝̟͎͚̂̀̉̏́́͑͘̚ͅn̶̡̛̬̹̗͊̿̏̉̇̈́̑̋͋̋̋̑̂͐͐̾̋͘͜͝t̷̢̧̗̺͕̗̱̣͚̲͍̯̣̜̾͊̓̈̍̓̊̒̌́̓̈́̕͠ ̸̢̰̤͓̖̝͈̳͋͂̾̈́͂̇́̂̋͋̚̕͠t̶̛͇̬͖̯͙̘͇̣̖̼͑̾̇͒͐͂̆̚̕͘̚o̷̭̐̇̀̎͝͝ ̸̢͓̙̞͈̜̞̥̻̫̖̈̔̍͌̾͆̍̽s̴̛͈̳̜̜̱̎̋̓̉̊̍͆̋̈́̏̈̈̇̓̕͠t̴̖̦̜̭͚̬͕̻̫̪͍̬̹̪͙͎̤̜͛̊ͅͅa̷͖̍͌̏͋̀̑͑̂̓̈́͐̿͋̒͘̕͘͝ÿ̵̧̖̲̯͔͉͇̠̫̦̣͖̺̥͖̼̼͓͜ͅ ̴͍̬͔̖̲̭̗̩̓̃a̸̞͎̝͈̱̗̝̣̘̯͍̥͓̯̪͈͛̐̒̃͝ͅt̶̢̬͍̱̖̱̝͇̠̺̗͈̘͊̄̑̾̐̓̓̓̋̌͝ͅ ̵̤̤̝̰̠̻̩͖̗̗̖̊͛̈́ͅͅy̴̢͍̰̠̯̩̭̖̥͔̮̯͚̦̤̰͒̃̆͜ơ̷̢̢̠̬̱̗͈̫̣̺̟̦̈̓͂͐̀̑͂̾̓͗̒̚̚͝͠͝͠ͅừ̷̡̡̨̛͎͎͇̤͎̹̝͈͕̦̇̽͌́̀̋͛͐̍̈́̉̈́̀͊͜͝ŗ̶̛͕͎̳̞͈̘̻̹̱͔͉̪̱̠̎̾͛̐̏̃̈́̋́̒̂͋̍̈́̕͝͝͝ͅ ̸̨̢̹͇̮̟̣̙̭̩̰̫̝̺͉̗͖͕͇̣̊̄̔̽͊̏̈́̎̃̈́̊͒̊͂̚͘̕͠ḩ̸̫̱̣̼̝͇̗͙͇̩͓̥͉̣̩̺̈́̉̏́͊̍̐̽̆̿̈́̓̾̈́̂̾́͠͠ͅơ̴̼̠̬̣̘͉̰̄͜ṵ̴̢̨̡͕͇̻̞͖̬̟͔̬̦̤̈́ͅs̵̢̡̡̗̱̮̗̳̱̯͔̑͆̀̄̔̾̈́̐̔͜e̴̪̋̐̉̾͌̔.̸̧̛̤͙̩͙̗̘̱̤͉̞͉͙̈́̆͋̔̅̎́̑͐̎̔̊̌̅̊̒͝ͅ
"Oh. That's. That ain't preem."