There was a suffocating darkness, then pain in his neck, a searing burn. He thought as he dangled, worsening his pain.
He needed air, he needed to breathe, his face getting hotter as he struggled to take a single breath. His legs stretched out for something, anything to stand on, but only nothingness, a silence of his impending death, was there.
He clawed at his neck, at the rope there. The mark formed was dark, purple, and indented, making his skin burn raw.
This shouldn't be. He tried harder to claw at the rope with as much ferocity as he could muster, but his body slowly betrayed him, painful tears of resistance falling from his eyes as he tried to move his arms.
'No, not like this'
His arms were like lead, wouldn't heed his calls. But yet he clawed still as he slowly stopped moving, his eyes bloodshot as he felt his spine slowly break.
He could feel strength slowly leaving his body like it was never strong, going cold like it was never warm.
Then came the feeling of weightlessness, a sensation he only registered as he hit the floor. As if on cue, he breathed as much as his sore throat could take, the cold dusty air feeling much better than anything. He continued to breathe, raspily. As if each breath could be his last.
A rightful conclusion because he noticed a figure at the other end of the room, by the window. The afterglow of the setting sun casts an orange light over the dark visage, highlighting her figure as a woman.
She drew a raspy breath, uncharacteristic of a woman. She turned to look in his direction, her dark, hooded cloak granting her protection from her face being discerned. She took a few glances at him and started walking in his direction.
Alarm bells started ringing in his head as he crawled backwards in a bid to escape from this enigma.
'Who was she'
'Was she the one that strung him up'
Dark thoughts rose through his mind as he scuttled away.
This was futile since soon she was before him, a few inches away from his face was hers, he could hear her raspy breath that almost seems to calm him. Even though the hood covered her face in complete darkness, he could discern the color of her eyes because they were glowing, glowing purple.
"This won't do, my little rascal; you must learn to live with your choices."
She spoke with familiarity, almost chastising him. What did she mean? Did she mean he tried to kill himself?
'No, I wouldn't,' but he can't remember anything; in place of his memory was a throbbing pain.
Noticing his dilemma, she stretched her hands to stroke his head,
"Don't trouble yourself, what is done is done. I've paid back my debt"
'What debt'
She stood up and slowly walked to the door.
"For all its worth, I hope you live, Reginald," and she was gone.
'I want that too'
Only now could he breathe a sigh of relief, truly without the fear of his life being in immediate danger.
Slowly, the banging in his head abated, and he sat up to survey his environment. He was in a room, a bedroom, a little too big with a big bed, messily laid if laid at all, in the center of the room. The whole room smelled like old books. The scent was musky and humid.
His eyes caught his hands; they were white. 'No, this is wrong, my skin was darker'
He remembered, but what did he remember exactly? He didn't know, only that he wasn't white, and this wasn't his room.
These conflicting thoughts were raised in his head before memories started flickering in his mind. Memories of another man. Even though he didn't remember his own memories, he knew all these memories weren't his; there was a sense of dissociation with them.
The man's name was Reginald Fletcher, and he was an Inspector in the National Defense Guard. He had lost his daughter, and then came another bout of pain, emotional pain. Was that why he tried to kill himself? He couldn't help but think that. Who was that woman from before? He slowly stood up before noticing a mirror at the other end of the room.
He walked towards the mirror and looked slowly. Looking in the mirror, he saw messy, dark hair. Brown eyes with an average face. He was shocked. He could see the marks left by the rope from earlier, dark and disgusting. Fear still lingered in his mind about what could have been if he had remained hanging.
As he was about to take a closer look at his body, he heard a banging noise from the door. His senses kicked into overdrive again, on alert.
He could hear a frantic voice, a girl or lady screaming worriedly
"Inspector! ... Inspector! Open the door"
Then a bigger bang, she kicked the door open. He saw the intruder, and seriously, a girl this size could kick a door open; she kicked the doors completely off their hinges. Before he knew what was going on, she was right before him, looking at him worriedly.
"Are you ... Okay, inspector? You didn't do anything stupid did you"
She burst into tears in his arms
"How am I supposed to live without you?"
He didn't know what to do because, quite frankly, the strength and speed this girl exhibited were definitely impossible. But the new memories lingering at the back of his head prove otherwise; this world is not the one he once knew.
'I guess I'm the inspector now, I am Reginald Fletcher' he didn't even remember his original name.
She looked up, inspecting him all over, seeing the mark on his neck, the rope on the ground. Hurt flashed in her eyes.
"Thanks to the matriarchs I was here on time"
She burst into another round of tears.
Reginald looked at her, he knew her. Her name was Nancy, and she was one of his subordinates at the precinct. A very cheerful girl, it hurt to see her bawling her eyes out like this.
Her eyes, however, made him remember the woman who was here before. Was she the one who cut the rope, saving him? What did that woman mean by the debt has been paid?
His thoughts started to feel groggy again, and Nancy, noticing his exhaustion, slowly lifted him up. Yeah, lifted him up, a sixteen-year-old girl was lifting a grown man like him up, bridal style. The very nature of the situation didn't let any form of embarrassment grow, however. Nancy lifted him to the bed and covered him with a blanket. One more thing he wanted to forget about this night, he thought as he fell asleep.