POV ADRIAN HALE:
Tonight, the lamp on my desk flickered as if following the rhythm of my life. I had just been fired from my job because of my own negligence, not because I was careless! But I was unwell: My head throbbed with a dizzying ache that blurred my vision, my body felt heavy and hot—this wasn't my fault, it was theirs. I actually wanted to take sick leave, but they wouldn't allow it. You know what they said? They said I was "Making excuses," "Lazy," "Irresponsible." Bullshit!
I don't care anymore, haha! Honestly, I've always wanted to quit that job. Wait, no, that wasn't a job, it was labor exploitation--the effort expended wasn't commensurate with the pay. It's because of this damn overpopulation in my country that makes jobs incredibly hard to find, which is why there are companies that hire people with low wages. The pay is low, but you have to compete with millions of others.
Damn overpopulation. If only I could create a virus--Ahem! Back to my problem...
I leaned my head back on the chair, staring at the ceiling of my apartment.
"What do I do now?" To be honest, even though I hated my job, it's undeniable that it was my only source of income. It's truly ironic. Now how do I pay my apartment bills? And my daily food?
Should I borrow money from my older siblings? But... They're not the same siblings I used to play with--they now have their own families and children to support. Who knows, they might also be struggling to make ends meet. If I asked, they'd probably give it, but maybe with a reluctant face or... not? Weren't we close before? They'd surely be happy to give money to their youngest brother who once said:
"Haha, you don't need to worry about me--I can take care of myself. And you might not even recognize me when I come back, because I'll be rich."
Damn, I smiled remembering that. Ugh, I'm already getting a headache just thinking about asking for money.
I then shifted my position to lying face down on the table, with one hand propping up my chin and the other opening my laptop to look at the gallery containing my photos from fifteen years ago when I was seven years old.
Look at him (me), able to smile innocently without thinking about money, asking for things just by whining, playing as much as he wanted without worrying about time—back then it all felt normal, but now that I'm an adult, I realize childhood was more beautiful and precious than I imagined. I regret not enjoying it more back then.
Phew... If only I knew being an adult would be this unpleasant, I wouldn't have wished for it.
I closed the gallery and was firm in my decision to borrow money from my siblings for a few months while looking for a job.
That's going to be tough...
As I was lost in thought, my eyes accidentally landed on a document on my laptop containing a novel I've been writing since high school, not for publishing but for myself. While everyone my age spent their time hanging out, drinking coffee at cafes, or going out, I spent my free time writing a novel. Because besides being economical (that's number one), writing a novel is really fun. I can create a world and make characters act however I want, haha, I'm the god of my novel world. By the way, my novel is almost finished, probably about 2 more volumes, but my writing has slowed down lately because I have writer's block.
Oh right! Why don't I just publish it instead of letting it sit idle in the documents for years?
"Hmm, good idea. Who knows, maybe I can earn some income, hehe. But before that, I have to revise it from chapter 1."
I opened the document and stretched my fingers to begin. After finally stretching my whole body, I started. My fingers pressed the keyboard. That night, the sound of the clicking keyboard and the UV light from the laptop constantly shining on my face were my companions. Until finally, without realizing it, I had revised hundreds of chapters in one night, with only a little left.
"In one night, huh? That's impossible!" Some of you might think that, but you need to know that my revision was only about adding foreshadowing. As for writing quality, grammar, and other aspects, I thought they were good from the start, so that reduced my revision load. And also... I really love this novel I wrote because it always filled my loneliness, and I don't want my novel to be called bad—that's like calling my closest friend, who always accompanied me, bad.
When only a few chapters were left to finish, suddenly my head throbbed violently, and my vision of the letters began to blur.
Damn, why is this happening? Come on, just a little more to go. I tried to push myself, but the pain intensified.
Sunlight pierced through the gaps in my curtains, but the light that should have been warm felt scorching.
Alright, I give up! Maybe I should rest for a bit. I lay my head on the desk and slowly closed my eyes.
I heard the sound of dripping water and a low rumble that felt like a lullaby to me.
Suddenly, all the pain that had been attacking me earlier completely vanished, as if it had left my body, or maybe my soul had left? No, no, don't, I was just joking.
I closed my eyes tighter to sleep before finally hearing an irritating voice growing louder.
"Adrian! Wake up quickly, we're in danger!"
"Seriously,oy!"
Damn, who is that? I don't recognize that voice, but it's definitely very irritating. I just wanted to sleep.
"Oy, Adrian!"
The voice grew louder, deafening my ears. I even felt my body being shaken.
Alright, that's enough! I furrowed my brows and clenched my fists tightly in annoyance. Opening my eyes, I immediately stared at the person who woke me up.
"Shut up! I just fell asl—!" My voice caught in my throat, stunned by the stranger who woke me up and by the environment that had completely changed all of a sudden.
Where am I?