1,000,000 Karma: My Reward Is a Quiet Life-Chapter 42: BONUS: The Stench of Smoke That Lingers Between Worlds
["It was every day—that nauseating atmosphere of cigarettes."]
Alone, the elementary boy sat, scratching at his arm while the establishment played endless sounds. The machines that ensnared the people there like a spider’s web blared, playing their jingles with each artificial win.
A casino; the same one, every day, every night. He sat behind his mother, who monotonously tapped away, sinking her purse into its false promises.
It wasn’t just her; there were hundreds of people, mindlessly jabbing their fingers on the "play" button, tossing another dollar away. For the boy, all he could do was sit there and think.
["Stagnation. That’s all I saw. People with no future prospects, hoping one press of a button would change their lives; from misery to riches.
I felt like the only one who realized. The only one who knew the golden rule of life—take action."]
After an hour of washing away money, the woman that smelled of smoke and booze stood up from the ma ch one with a huff. She grabbed the arm of the watchful child, not giving him the chance to stand up.
"Come on," the uncaring mother said with no love in her voice, pulling the bot along.
He moved his little feet as fast as he could in a stumble to keep up, leaving the bounds of the casino. Back into the now night-stricken streets of the city, he kept his head down while following his begrudged guardian.
"It’s your fault, you know?" The woman said, taking a puff of her cigarette. "You’re the source of my bad luck. Since the day you were born."
He had no words, of course; there was nothing the unloved boy could say.
It wasn’t any better at home, locking himself in his room where he had nothing but toys found in dumpsters. Everything he had were possessions cast away by others. He isolated himself in his bedroom, only leaving to use the bathroom, even then, he held on as long as he could.
The same sounds filled the apartment every day and every night; whoever was the new fleeting partner of his mother would be there. He heard everything; the love, the fighting, the violence.
"Kieran?"
Lost in his thoughts, the adolescent blinked, lifting his head as he looked up from his desk. Bathed in the sunlight dipping into the empty classroom, the freckled girl was staring back at him with a smile.
"Yeah?" He asked before emitting a tired sigh.
"You were dozing off. Can’t have you missing lunch period again and going hungry!" The eccentric girl said, clapping her hands together.
"Sorry, didn’t get much sleep last night, Emily," he said, getting up from his desk as he walked alongside his peer.
"Kieran..." The freckled girl said, humming to herself. "You have a unique name, y’know? I’ve never seen anybody else with it."
"Yeah, well, nothing special about it. "Little, dark one"--that’s what it means. I’m sure my mom didn’t even know what it meant, probably picked drew a stick to pick my name," Kieran theorized with little enthusiasm. "Still, I guess she somehow chose just what she wanted."
"Don’t say that," the girl stepped in front of him with a frustrated look.
"What?"
"You’re always looking at things in the worst way," Emily reprimanded with a forced exhale, shaking her head. "I know how you feel about your parents, and I get it...You haven’t been treated well, but maybe–maybe at some point, it wasn’t so bad?"
"I don’t remember it, if it was," Kieran responded.
To his surprise, as they stood there in the sunlight-blanketed corridor, the freckled girl softly grabbed one of his hanging fringes with a smile.
"Dark one...What she probably thought of was your hair. That’s what it made me think when I heard the meaning," Emily smiled softly, letting go of his hair.
Even as she pulled away, he could still feel the warmth of her brief touch as he reached up, fiddling with his fringe.
"I think you’re giving her too much credit," he said quietly.
"Maybe," Emily said, continuing to take strides down the hall. "It’s a better alternative than believing the worst, though."
["That way of thinking is ignorant. That’s what I thought when she’d say things like that, but I never said it. I understood the reason she’d say those words was to make me feel better. Believing in people having good intentions rather than bad is the privilege of those that haven’t experienced the ugliness of humanity.
...But I want to believe. Show me something. Anything that will make me believe this is a world worth living in."]
Minutes before midnight, he stood alone at the edge of the bridge, unbothered by the passing traffic while rain pelted his hoodie. He looked onto the river, not staring at much of anything but only lost in thoughts. For minutes more he waited, standing there idly while a passing semi-truck passed, splashing his back with a puddle.
The water didn’t bother him as he calmly climbed atop the slick, metal rails, placing the soles of his shoes on their thin hold.
["At this time of night, there’s nobody to help. If you want to show me something, now more than ever it’ll be convincing. But, why am I even thinking about that? It’s not happening anyway. Nobody cares."]
Looking at his phone, the screen flicked on with droplets blurring the digital display: "12:00."
One last inhale was guided into his lungs before he let himself fall forward–
"Hey–!"
He opened his eyes, finding himself staring at the night-fallen river far below, though not falling. Arms were wrapped desperately around his legs, squeezing so firmly as if preventing him from falling meant everything to the one that arrived right on time.
"Huh–?" Kieran looked over, placing his palms against the slick railing.
With a tug, the man standing on the bridge’s sidewalk pulled him back over, causing them both to fall onto the concrete.
"Gotcha..." The stranger caught his breath.
"Why the hell did you do that?" Kieran asked, left stunned as he looked at the good samaritan.
The adolescent man sat there as if processing the question before returning it, "That’s a silly question, considering you’re the guy trying to take a dive at this time of night."
"It’s none of your business," Kieran quietly said, sitting there with his arms on his knees.
"If you’re going to do something like that in front of me, you’re making it my business," the stranger reprimanded, picking himself up while extending a hand down. "Come on. You’re going to get a cold staying out here in the rain."
Somehow, despite everything, that made him want to laugh. A "cold?" After the irreversible act he had attempted, worrying about a light fit of illness seemed like some sort of dark humor. While it seemed so, looking into the sky-blue irises of the stranger, it wasn’t some play at a joke, but genuine worry granted from one person to another.
Kieran couldn’t help but be stunned at the baffling kindness of the samaritan, "What’s your name?"
"Noah," the other introduced himself, hoisting Kieran to his feet as their hands met. "What about you?"
"Kieran," he answered.
"Nice to meet you, Kieran," Noah said with a kind smile, as if entirely dismissing the gloomy context of their abrupt meeting on that rainy bridge. "Try not to die on me, alright?"
"I–well, I’ll think about it."
["I ended up dying. Ironically, it wasn’t of my own intention. Who would’ve seen it coming that a brain hemorrhage at 2:33 A.M on an uneventful Tuesday night would be what did me in? The world works in mysterious ways.
But, that’s how I found myself here–in this odd world."]
A conservative city within the border of territory owned by humans and elves—"Magidon." Like most of the populace, he wore the scholar uniform of black and purple threads, walking amongst the countless mages.
Everyone had the same look about them, completely engulfed in their own intellectual pursuit without a shred of soul guiding their march.
He blended in, though had no desire to chase the "evolution of magecraft."
’I’ll work my way to the top, and squeeze everything I can out of this life,’ he planned.
