Chapter 2

I would have never imagined I'd be in this position. Being robbed, I mean. Or trapped in this world without the escape of death.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, and set it on the counter, moving slowly. The tallest still held their gun up, their fingers resting on the trigger, ready to fire at the slightest sign of hesitation. I responded to this by raising my hands in the air above my head.

"Tú dinero.", The other spoke quickly.

I simply nodded. Although I wasn't entirely fluent in the language I could tell what they meant. I walked over to my desk, and their eyes followed me, making sure I wasn't about to call for help somehow. Once I had basically slammed the door open, I fumbled around in the drawer, scanning for any bit of cash I had.

The taller of the two thieves had short brown hair, only reaching down a bit past their ears. They wore a black t-shirt, with a magenta flower printed on it.

I found their attire a bit strange, but I personally had never stolen anything, so who was I to judge?

The other thief looked more masculine, with dyed baby-blue hair. They wore a patterned long sleeved jacket, with black and blue triangles scattered around on an off-white base.

I found a total of about 220.1 USD, and slid it across the counter towards both. They seemed somehow confused by it in a way, but the tallest shoved in their pocket despite it. After a quick exchange of whispers between each other, the patterned-shirt man grabbed a pan from one of my shelves and slammed it into my head. It was so sudden, I wasn't sure what had happened until a few seconds before I blacked out.

It was only for a few minutes, but when I woke up they had left. Any evidence they had been here was only a broken window and a bent frying-pan, if you didn't count the bruise on my head.

What was with things crashing into my head?

I reached for a bottle of pain-killers in my cabinet, only to find I had none left. It looked like I'd have to wait this one out. When I was done mumbling curses about what had happened, I noticed it had begun to rain. Seeing the droplets fly down into my the room where the glass had shattered made me feel frustrated and, in a way, a bit anxious. What if I had read the date wrong? Was the hurricane today? I decided to ignore these thoughts temporarily, and focused on sweeping up the shards of glass. Once I had finished, I came up with a brilliant plan to fix the hole in my window-

I'd just tape plastic over it! After all, it was clear anyways, and it would last for at least a few hours if I did it well.

The rain continued to pour, and the skies grew darker. Still, I brushed this off as the sun falling down.

You're probably thinking, why didn't I call the cops? If that money had any worth to me, I would have done so. But it wouldn't be worth the trouble to get it back, anyways.

We'd all be dead by the time I would get it back.

I shifted uncomfortably a bit at that thought. Lately, it was one of my goals to be thinking less negatively. But it was true, was it not?

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