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Hey, did you guys miss me? I know I’ve been MIA for a while, but this year’s been a total rollercoaster. So much has happened in my life and honestly, I just haven’t felt like writing, but I feel bad for leaving this hanging. Anyway, time for some updates! Yep, I’ll catch you up on the nine months I was gone — one update per month. That makes 10 in total, but I’ll throw in a little bonus one as a gift for disappearing so long. Thanks a ton for sticking around
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His mind struggles to cling to consciousness. The first thing he perceives is a sound—drops falling one after another. Then he feels it: he’s wet, drenched, and right away a smell hits him like a punch, unbearable, a mix of garbage, rot, and death. Every breath intensifies it, as if he were swallowing it whole.
The sounds grow too—until even the buzz of a fly becomes unbearable. The dampness clinging to his skin feels like a second layer, and in the end, that’s what forces him to wake. He wants to cover his ears, his nose, everything. He doesn’t want to feel anything.
What’s happening to him? He hadn’t experienced anything like this since the sting. He had suffered overloads before, but never of this magnitude.
Suddenly everything calms down. A wave of tranquility envelops him, though it doesn’t last long, because soon a tension cuts through him. He feels danger nearby. He tries to stand but stumbles, and at his feet he finds a backpack. He recognizes it immediately—it’s the one he packed when everything went to hell. He has to find Harley and Morgan. If this place is dangerous and something happens to them, it will be his fault.
The noise of his fall doesn’t go unnoticed.
—“Peter? Is that you?” a voice calls out.
He turns, and there’s Harley, with a backpack at his side. Peter is grateful for his sharp hearing—otherwise he wouldn’t have caught that whisper.
—“Harley? Are you okay?” he asks in a low voice, careful not to alert anyone else.
—“Have you seen Morgan?” Harley replies as he picks up his backpack.
Peter’s heart sinks. Morgan isn’t with Harley. Where could he be? What if he’s in danger? If something happened to him, Peter would never forgive himself.
A sob breaks the silence. Harley hears it too and turns his head in the same direction. Peter sees nothing—a container blocks his view—but he doesn’t hesitate. He grabs his backpack and runs toward the sound.
There he is. He can barely make out his silhouette. Morgan clutches his backpack to his chest, but something keeps him from hugging it fully. He hides his face in that small space, and the scene tears Peter apart. His fault. All his fault, and he knows it.
Before guilt can consume him, a hand grasps his. It doesn’t last long—it’s Harley. He leans toward Morgan, embraces him, kisses the top of his head, and rests against him.
The image is moving, but Peter can’t shake off the sense of danger. They have to get out of there, find a safe place, and only then, maybe, will they allow themselves to grieve.
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I know the prologue is changing, but I just wasn’t happy with the previous one. Mostly because I felt Morgan came across as a really spoiled kid. I know, she’s five, but considering everything she’s been through—and everything I’m going to put her through—I don’t think anyone who’s been through that would act like that.
Anyway, that’s all for now. I want to get to know you guys a little better, like your tastes. Is that okay? Do you like video games? Probably, right? So, what’s your favorite? Mine’s FNAF. Which one exactly? Well… it’s hard to choose.