ANTihilation

The sound of flesh hitting flesh, with an agonizing grunt ensuring shortly after, before another hit finally disembarked and the sound of a body pummeling into the cold, wet concrete would occur.

A silver-haired boy would be laid out on the ground, curling up into a ball, retching in pain while grasping his stomach. Two taller boys would also be standing above him, holding a robust leather poach before ultimately walking away with it, leaving Zuno in the middle of the street. 

"Shit," Zuno let this remark escape his bloodied mouth. The bag that was stolen was full of money, money he spent months on end to get, to have it taken from him in mere moments.

Through the pain, Zuno weakly stood up. Since he was quite frail, it was hard on his body to take quite a beating, but the pain was the least of his worries at the moment. After thinking for a few moments, he chose not to waste time sulking about his physicality as he started to limp towards his house.

The walk home was almost as bad as him getting robbed; on every corner Zuno passed, there was a poor soul that was lying to waste on the streets, dosing themselves up with Nox.

Mostly, everyone in this city had succumbed to that drug, and it was the reason he was an orphan, with the overdose rate being high and the addiction rate being even higher. Zuno shook his head at the thought of these pitiful memories. He despised drugs, especially this one.

'I guess another shit day is added to the calendar.'

Zuno let off a small snort, followed by a heavy cough caused by his aching body, as he finally reached the front of his house. Well… it was more of a shack than a house, but it was better than living on the streets, where one person's mood would decide if you lived another day or not.

He eventually limped himself to his front door, opening it nice and wide where a fresh smell of mold, wet wood, and… blood? "A shit day just went to deeper shit… fuck."

The scent of that vile red liquid was nothing new to Zuno since death was a regular occurrence in this ghetto; thankfully, this made the price of living here relatively cheap.

Hesitantly, he continued into his home, his eyes circling the room, carefully watching for any anomalies or signs of movement. "Just another shit day… just another shit day."

By now, it was noticeable that luck was not on Zuno's side today. He would never forget this as the shittest day of the year, no, shittest day of his life, but he chose not to think about the shitness of the day; jinxing himself would just be awful, was this a curse by whatever god that was in the sky?

He did not know, possibly, and hoped that this god would not bring anyone into his house.

With each step Zuno took, the parched wooden floorboards below him creaked loudly, as if his outer monologue wasn't enough to disclose himself; the floor would tell whatever was here his exact location.

'Curse you cheap housing!'

He sneered at the floorboards before giving up being sneaky. He swallowed a small amount of fear before still fearfully scurrying toward where the aroma of blood was vastly present.

Fortunately, the cause of this odor was right in front of him: a broken window with smears of a bright red liquid shining off it.

It seemed like someone had broken in and sliced themselves up pretty badly on the glass before regretting it and leaving.

It's not like Zuno had anything remotely valuable inside his home; it wasn't in his price range and too risky for where he lives.

The bathroom door closed, and a long sigh escaped Zunos's mouth. After today's events, he just didn't feel like cleaning up that mess.

Zuno had been used to the odor of blood for years, and after a while, he could just replace the window instead of cleaning it.

After seeing the cause of the smell and not caring about the security risks of a broken window, Zuno ended up right back in his kitchen. He eventually walked to his kitchen table, pulled out a chair, and sat his bum slam dab in the middle of it.

Today was a long day, even for Zuno, and the sun was only starting to set by the time he sat down!

Zuno reflected on today's events. First, he finally saved enough for next month's rent. Second, not an hour later, it was the robbery, and third, his home was broken into.

"Man, is it really that hard to get some peace around here?" A loud sigh eluded Zunos's mouth before he laid his upper half lazily on the kitchen table. Today had been so exhausting, and to make matters worse, he now had a window to fix!

He was so depleted from today that he could fall asleep right on the table, and with his current position, he was comfortable enough to do so. That said, he almost did.

Zuno struggled to keep his eyes open; it felt like the weight of his entire body was set upon his eyelids; his two-toned eyelashes felt heavier than ever, but Zuno was in a losing battle with himself, even with all his mental capacity, his conscious continued to fleet, until…

Knock! Knock! Knock!

A knock on the front door stroked him awake, quickly getting rid of most of the drowsiness he was fighting against, and before he could even respond to the first one.

Knock! Knock! KNOCK!

Another couple of knocks landed on his front door, even louder than before, causing Zuno to click his tongue before replying to the strangers at his door. "I'm coming! Who is it??"

He wouldn't reply in standard cases, but if they were really a threat to his life, they wouldn't knock twice.

Zuno steadily got up from his seat and headed to the door to speak more directly with them, but before he could reach the door, the strangers responded in the muffled, raspy voice of a man roaring from his front door. "It's the COH. Will you kindly open the door so we can discuss something with you?"

'The Coalition Of Hills? Why was the government at his door? Had he committed a crime?'

A drop of sweat dripped down Zunos face as he arrived at the door; it was wooden and thin, so he could barely see about two people in military uniforms standing in front of his door with a clipboard through the cracks.

'what was happening?'

Zuno thought with a precise amount of worry, but with his hand slowly gripping the door handle, he would soon find out.