CASE 1, REPORT 1

“It’s you… IT’S YOU!”

Fires arose around him as he saw his tiny, once warm, energetic community turn into ashes and fires, almost like they were starting an uprising. The little boy lay on the ground helpless and in unbearable pain, nearly as if he was going to start going into shock. A blue-like blur with only the face of what could only be described as beaming rays towered over and practically blinded him. The blur stuck his hand in the boy’s wound, and he yelped out in pain, wondering what did he ever do to deserve this. He screamed and yelled until the pain dissipated, and he had a warm feeling all over his body. He blinked; the dream was gone, and the young man was wide awake.

As he returned to the land of the living, reflecting on his recurring nightmare, he grunted in frustration. “I hate when I have that nightmare,” he mumbled as he grazed the now-healed scar on the side of his body and flinched, almost as if he could still feel the pain from that dream. The exhausted yet determined man rolled out of bed and headed to his bathroom. He washed his face, then reflected on his tired expression, “It could be worse..” He said as he pulled his attention away from the mirror. The young man walked over to the shower and swiftly undressed before getting in. The night before, he had just moved into his new apartment, let alone a new city miles away from home. Being on his own and of his own volition was, and still is, a concept that was utterly foreign to him.

As the minutes slowly ticked by, he eventually stepped out of the shower and speedily got ready. “I gotta pick up my stuff from Ikeared..” He muttered to himself as he got ready, listing the things he needed to get for his barren place. As he wrapped up getting prepared, he effortlessly grabbed his tote bag and his keys and headed out the door. As the cool autumn breeze hit his skin, he took a minute to completely engross himself in the crisp air before remembering he was on a time crunch. The man quickly walked to his car and hopped in, tossing his tote bag in the passenger seat. He rested his hands on the wheel before it dawned on him, socialization.

“I hope nobody approaches me today..” he said in a low, seemingly anxiety-ridden tone. Out of all the things he could do easily, socializing was not one of them. Ever since he could remember, he hasn’t been able to speak to anyone besides family.. or himself, for that matter. He sighed and tried to push his anxiety aside as he turned the radio up and started his drive to iKeared. As he drove, he couldn’t help but reflect on how exciting it was to be on his own finally.. And how jarring it is as well. On one hand, he felt ecstatic, knowing that he could do whatever he wanted without anybody nagging or stopping him.

But on the other hand, he feared being alone. As much as he valued his space and ironically had social anxiety, he never enjoyed being completely isolated. Before he knew it, he had arrived at the furniture store.

He parked, stepped out, and mentally prepared for what awaited. As he started walking towards the entrance, something wasn’t settling with him.. But he assumed it was his anxiety and pushed it aside for now. The eerily cold wind from the AC hit him, pulling him out of his thoughts as he remembered what he was there for. The bustling isles sent a strike of uneasiness down his spine, yet he still remembered he had things to do.

“Where’s the pickup desk…” He thought to himself for a moment as he looked around, trying to figure out where it could be. He eventually spotted the sign and guided himself to it. As he got closer, he noticed the long line and softly sighed as he joined the said line. As he waited, he put his earbuds in and looked through ParaGram to pass the time. He saw a detailed, custom-made sword with a platinum finish cross his timeline. “I wish I had a sword that cool… I’d name it Beetle or something silly like that... But god knows if I can even afford a sword that sick,” He thought, fantasizing about all he could do with just a simple sword. He looked up and noticed he was about to be next in line, so he pulled up the order receipt on his phone. After the person in front of him got their things, he paused his music and stepped up.

The receptionist looked up and asked bluntly, “Name?” The man showed his receipt to the receptionist, “Diego Rodriguez.. Right?” the receptionist asked, seeming oddly less annoyed. Diego nodded, confirming that it was him. The receptionist got up from her chair and returned to retrieve his order. He didn’t order much, just a few trash cans. The receptionist handed off the box to him; he signed it off and booked it out of there.

Walking towards the exit, he turned up his music and tried to ignore everyone around him. As he walked out to his car, losing himself to his favorite song as he walked, that strange feeling of extreme anxiety slowly seeped back into his spirit. He darted around just enough time to shield his face with his arms, dropping his box. A tall, winged man scraped the back of his forearms. Diego winced at the sudden pain as he started to feel the blood trickle down his arms.

In rapid succession, the skin immediately grew back. “It’s you… IT’S YOU,” the winged man muttered, then yelled in shock as he repeated himself. Diego raised an eyebrow momentarily at the winged man’s cryptic words right before the man abruptly swung at him, aiming for his head. Diego quickly blocked his attack and looked into his eyes. “WHAT THE HELL DOES HE MEAN ‘IT’S YOU’?!?!” Diego thought to himself for a split second as his eyes met the odd being’s widened gaze. The winged man noticed the flash of inattentiveness and struck Diego, knocking him out entirely. As the man picked up Diego, presumably abducting him, he felt a slight breeze rush against his feathers. He whipped his head around, slightly frantic, fearing that he was getting ambushed. “WHO’S THERE,” the winged man yelled out in fear, not knowing what brushed against his feathers like that.

“I suggest you put him down before I become a tad unprofessional,” The sudden voice softly spoke in his ear, gently resting a hand on the man’s shoulder. The man turned his head to meet the eyes of the mysterious voice that whispered in his ear. There stood the receptionist from earlier now with a scythe in tow. “Shall I repeat myself?” The receptionist said sternly as her grip on the scythe tightened.

MAYHEM’S HUSH-BUSH: The receptionist walks in, “Mayhem isn’t in town right now, and won’t be for a few episodes so I’m doing it for him. Did you know that Diego doesn’t smile because he has braces..? Apparently, he has pink bands on at the moment… That’s quite interesting!”

Wanna read more? Then go ahead! I won't judge.