The same question came before me again and again, carrying the same answer. Yet that same answer could never hold me, and I could never hold to it..."
-----
What does it mean to adapt? How do humans adapt to the world around them? What does it truly mean to fit into their society?
From what I understand, adapting is about adjusting oneself to new circumstances, changing one's behavior or will in response to the environment. It's a form of survival, they say. But this idea doesn't sit right with me.
I've never been able to fully adapt to this world, even though I was born into it. Why, then, do I feel like a stranger in my own society?
Humans talk endlessly about emotions joy, sorrow, anger, love yet I've never felt those things. I've watched them. Observed their actions, their words, their behaviors, thinking perhaps one day I would feel the same, but nothing has changed. Even at nearly nine years of age, I have yet to experience the emotions they claim are so important. And oddly, it doesn't bother me.
In fact, I realized that my understanding of adaptation is far different from theirs. For me, adapting means recognizing what is useful, accepting it, and rejecting what is unnecessary. That's why I don't feel the need to adapt to their emotions. I don't need them. They are weaknesses, distractions things that only serve to hinder my purpose.
Perhaps my refusal to accept my own inadequacies, my incapability of being like them, has shaped this mindset. But in the end, I have no interest in changing. Not for anyone. Not for anything.
---
The streets buzzed with their usual chaos. I moved through them a thin kid who looked maybe eight, black hair hanging past my shoulders, covering most of the marks on my pale skin. People glanced at my red eyes and quickly looked away. This was normal.
My stomach was killing me. This sharp, gnawing pain that just kept getting worse and worse. I hadn't eaten anything real in days. My whole body felt like it was about to collapse, screaming for food, but I just ignored it. The hunger was eating me alive, but I wasn't about to let it break me. I'd been through worse shit before, and I'd get through this too.
Walking past all these food stalls was torture. The smell of grilled meat, fresh bread, sweet fruit everything I couldn't have. My body was practically begging for food, but there was no way in hell I was going to beg for it. Pride might be stupid when you're starving, but it was all I had left.
"Should've grabbed something from that stall earlier," I muttered to myself, my voice sounding dead even to me. "But look at me... could I even outrun that fat merchant? Guy's way healthier than I am."
I looked down at my clothes completely trashed, torn up from days of wear, shoes that were basically falling apart. For a second, I felt kind of bad about it, but whatever. Feeling sorry for yourself doesn't get you anywhere.
The only thing that mattered was making it through another day.
I let out this tired sigh and glanced up at the sun. It was noon, but honestly, time didn't mean much anymore. Just another meaningless number in a world that had forgotten what time was supposed to be for.
At least I still had some juice left from the money I'd found earlier. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
I slowed down as I passed more food stalls, watching people stuff their faces while I headed toward the edge of the city. The streets got quieter and quieter as I walked, until all the noise from the crowds just faded away. The air got still, and the chaos of the city felt like a distant memory.
My legs started feeling heavier with each step. My body, completely drained from no food and no rest, was finally giving up on me. Then my legs just gave out, and I couldn't go any further. But it wasn't just exhaustion that stopped me. Something else was keeping me there.
Up ahead was this old, beat-up house that looked totally out of place. It was simple, but something about it just drew me in. It had this fresh coat of paint that looked weird compared to all the rundown crap around it.
"Can't go any further," I said to myself, staring at the house with empty eyes. "I'll crash here. That balcony looks warm."
I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been warm at night. The idea of just lying down somewhere without constantly thinking about how hungry I was made me stop. I dragged myself over to the balcony and collapsed among some flowers. They smelled okay, kind of comforting actually. For once, things felt peaceful.
For a minute, I let myself just rest, forgetting about being hungry and exhausted.
But that didn't last long.
This cold chill shot down my spine. The air, which had been warm just a second ago, went completely crazy. Cold, then hot, then cold again. I sat up fast, suddenly alert, looking around to figure out what the hell was going on.
Something was seriously wrong.
In the distance, I could see people running toward the center of the city. They looked panicked, scared out of their minds. Curious, I followed them. The streets were packed with strangers now, all wide-eyed and terrified, talking in hushed voices as they rushed toward downtown.
I pushed forward, nobody paying attention to some scrawny kid, slipping through the crowds. I watched all these people the rich ones, the powerful ones, the healthy ones. They were everything I wasn't. Tall, strong, well-fed. Everything I'd never be.
But something about the air had changed. It wasn't just the people freaking out. Something deeper was happening.
"Guess that's what happens when you actually eat three meals a day..." I muttered, though I didn't really feel anything about it. "But this air... something's off."
I stood there for a minute, trying to figure out what was happening. Night had come way earlier than it should have, and the sky looked darker than I'd ever seen it. So dark that even the moon couldn't cut through it.
"Was the sky always this dark?" I whispered to myself.
And then everything went to shit.
The moon, which had been this pale, distant thing, suddenly got bright as hell. It lit up the entire city with this intense light that cast these creepy, long shadows everywhere. It was way too bright like some unnatural light that was cutting through the night itself.
But it wasn't just the brightness. Everything had changed.
The moon's light turned red. Deep, blood red that seemed to stain everything it touched. People around me just stopped and stared at the sky, pure terror written all over their faces. The night got even darker somehow, but the moon was so bright it was almost blinding, casting this sick red glow over everything.
I stared up at the sky, squinting as the first drops of rain started falling.
At first, it seemed like normal rain. But as the drops fell, they caught the moon's red light, and the raindrops themselves looked like blood reflecting that crimson glow.
The blood rain started pouring down, slow at first, then faster and faster. Each drop stung when it hit my skin. The air got thick with this metallic smell, like iron, and the world around me went quiet except for people whispering prayers and trying not to cry.
Everyone went silent, like they'd run out of words. Some people stood there shaking in the rain, others just froze like statues.
My heart was beating steady in my chest, my red eyes matching the blood-red moon above. I didn't feel scared. I didn't feel sad. I just stood there, watching the rain keep falling, and somehow I knew exactly what this meant.
" The coming era of blood had started "