[A bullet wound and a friendly stranger.]

Mia's day began fairly mundane.

She had risen from bed earlier than usual, feeling particularly ebullient and well-rested. She bustled around with her morning chores, and even managed to do a 10 minute workout before she prepared for work, only to realise her alarm clock was slow, and the white digital numbers on her phone showed 8.05a.m.

From there, everything merely tumbled downhill.

In less than 30 minutes, she had to dress up, eat breakfast and dash to the station to catch the train that served her transport to her office 15 minutes away. As if the world wasn't cruel enough, as soon as she left the streets of her residential area , the heavens boomed and relieved itself of unwanted moisture, as if to mock her for her hapless morning. Already too late to turn back, she was forced to run in her heels in the downpour. To add salt to the wound, the train arrived late, so by the time she reached her office, she was drenched and 15 minutes late.

She foolishly thought that it was the end, but the day had just began.

In the afternoon, someone spilled coffee on her newly changed attire. She had no choice but to switch back to her semi-dry clothes (much to her chagrin), and thus, due to her "unbefitting attire", the presentation she slaved over for the past few nights was entrusted into the hands of another colleague to present to the clients, and any hope for a promotion was tossed out of the window.

In the evening, as most staff were already prepped to return to the solace of their homes, she had to work overtime as punishment for her tardiness. The clock had ticked past ten when her fingers finally clacked at the last few keys of her desktop. She was already teetering at the edge of despair, but she swallowed it up, submitted her work, and hurried out of the stifling office.

The moment she was alone, beads of tears streamed down her cheeks.

This was one of the most miserable days in her life.

The bottle that capped her feelings had shattered. The stress, pain, frustration and bitterness she had forced down her throat to keep those around her pleased spilled in the form of tears, and she had to gnash her teeth to prevent the cry threatening to burst forth from her lips. The voices she suppressed came like a tempest, disjointed and cacophonous as they swamped over everything else. They consumed her mind-

"Hey! Lady!"

She froze. All anxiety vanished, replaced with the fear of getting caught amidst a breakdown. Slowly, she wheeled around to survey her surroundings, when she caught sight of a moving lump in the dark corner near the dumps.

"Yeah, you. Come here. I won't bite."

She brushed off the tears that veiled her vision and gingerly approached the source of the voice, her bag held in front of her defensively. As she neared, she made out the silhouette of a man slumped against the rubbish chute. His eyes were a bright shade of green, and they twinkled even in the darkness. It was unnerving.

"W-What do you want?" Her voice came out shakier than she thought it would be. The stranger gestured at his torso, which had the other hand hung limply over it. "I'm hurt. Do you think you can help me?"

She squinted, still suspicious, but when he removed his hand to reveal dark red blossoming on his shirt with a hole in the centre, all wariness evaporated and she was beside him in a split second.

"Oh my gosh, dear Lord, what happened? Is that a bullet wound? It looks deep, we need to get you to the hospital immediately," she began babbling, shaking fingers delving into her purse to search for her phone, but he latched onto her wrist, stopping her.

"Wait, don't..." he took a breath. "Don't call the hospital. I just need a place for tonight." Then, he gave her a cordial grin. "Do you mind?"

Logically, one would reject and attempt to convince a casualty to seek professional help, and Mia would, too. But tonight, any sanity she had left in her completely disappeared (or maybe it was just her gullible nature), and she found herself nodding her head.

Perhaps she was the one needing professional help.

The stranger's features lit up like a child that saw Santa Claus. "Perfect! Let's go then. Help me up, please."

Mia complied, allowing him to loop his arm around her shoulders and heaved him upwards. Slowly and clumsily, they staggered down the streets towards her house with Mia cursing at herself for skipping gym for the past week. If she had known she wasn't going to present to the clients, she would've been making use of her time working out instead of wasting her tears over that stupid presentation.

When they finally climbed the steps into her house, the stranger collapsed onto the couch (which she cringed upon imagining the chore of ridding of the blood stains) and she immediately got to work. She brought a towel to stop the bleeding and-

"I heard you weeping just now. Are you okay?"

Her head snapped upwards to face him. In the light, she could fully observe his features: pale skin, high cheekbones and messy dirty blond curls, he would've appeared quite attractive if it weren't for the smudges of dirt on his cheeks. Or was that dried blood? She might have blushed, but the abnormality of her situation was far too bizarre to care about a stranger's- no matter how friendly- appearance. She could only glare at him.

"First, you called out to me when you clearly knew I was crying. Then, you refuse to go to the hospital even though I don't know how to... whatever they do with a bullet wound. And now, you are concerned with my mentality when you're the one who's supposed to be crying out in pain! What the hell is wrong with my life?!"

A sudden yelp cut her off, startling her. She immediately released the towel. "A-Ah, I'm sorry..." she muttered, only to hear the said man snickering. He shrugged and peered at her with his green eyes, mirth dancing in them. "So, does me freaking out and thrashing from pain reassure you?"

Her anger rose. Mia stood up, ready to smack this overly-friendly stranger so hard he would pass out when he held up a hand. "Calm down, I was just messing with you. And don't worry about digging out the bullet," he reassured, taking out a strange device from his coat. It had the outline of a gun, but instead of a rectangular barrel this odd gun had a cylinder made out of glass that contained glowing red liquid.

"These things shoot lasers in the future."

Mia barely had time to take in his words, when the window shattered.

♤[6/5/2020]♤