e.u.p.h.o.r.i.c

prologue

unknown location | midnight | pov: glitch

The young boy whimpered as he ran away from home. His green eyes were wide with fear. A soft cry escaped his lips. He whipped round, almost grateful to see his house so far away. The feeling did not last long, however. He was lost. Utterly lost. He did not want to recall his experiences at home. His family meant nothing to him anymore. He was on his own now. No alliances, no friends. He was a solitary being, living without another person to support him. This has been going on for as long as he could remember. Being beaten up, disgraced and hated for a reason he did not know. Treated like an animal. That was why he ran away.

His heart wouldn't stop beating. The continuous throbbing against his ribcage made it harder to breathe nor concentrate. He was armed only by a knife, and he did not dare use it. Even though he was alone, he couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was after him. It was no trifle; it was like a sixth sense. As if he could detect the heartbeat or the soul of another being. He was being followed. It was as if an alarm set off in his head, warning him of possible dangers and hazards. Ready to go back on the run, he braved ahead again. He was tiring out, he knew. If he went on like this, he wouldn't have enough energy to flee any further. He might as well perish then and there. His sight was distorted, colors only flashes in front of his eyes. Blurs and smudges of shadowy shades were everywhere. Unable to go on any further, the fourteen-year-old leaned on a wall and kept himself awake by studying his knife blade. The opalescent weapon seemed to shine. This kept him awake until he regained full eyesight.

And so his journey stretched on, and yet he still couldn't stay calm. Whatever had been tailing him, was still close by. He gripped his knife tightly, unwilling to lose it. He felt like life was more dangerous that he thought, out and about at night. Of course, even though he had faced many hardships, he had never been forced to stay outside for such a long time. He didn't have a clue on what to do.

Dots of white twinkled above, and brindled clouds spun across the skies. The lone, luminescent crescent moon glowed overhead, silverdust coating its rough surface. The boy wished he could admire and appreciate the view for a while longer, but he wasn't safe just yet. He didn't know if there actually was a safe shelter, but it would be worth the wait. He closed his eyes, feeling his hair brush against his forehead as he did. A vein pulsed in his wrist, again the watch on his right hand. The leather shone as if it had been newly polished. The boy loved this. The watch was the only thing that reminded him of home, and in a good way, too. He had received the item from a caring neighbor before the person moved away. He'd always remember that.

Suddenly, the nameless young teen was jolted out of his memories as he was grabbed by at the shoulder. A gruff male voice asked him, "You want to die, kid?" and he saw the man brandished a dagger. Another person from behind him stated, "That's enough. Can't you see he has a knife?" The boy tried to struggle by using all his weight and slamming his body into the attacker. Unfortunately, he felt one of the men grip his wrist, twist it, and cause the teen to hit the ground, out cold. The knife was forced out of his fingers. He was pinned down on his belly, with his hands held together, so it would be pointless to try and escape. He bit back a protest as he felt a cold metal blade press against his back. "What were you doing here, kid, out at night with a knife?"

Gathering enough courage to speak, he bashed, "I don't know! I wanted to run from home, that's all. It's none of your business," he insisted, trying not to end his exclamation with a loud wail. When he turned to look, he saw that both men were wearing think clothes and coveted their faces. One was slightly taller than the other. The tall man lifted the knife from his back and grinned menacingly. "That's some nerve you got there. If you don't have a home, come with us, then." He chuckled, pulling the kid to a stand. "We're just like you. Homeless. With a bit of help, you'll learn how to live like us. You already have the knife. Come on." The teenager grimaced at their weapons and said, "Forget it. I'm not going with you." He crossed his arms, even though he was scared for his life.

He tried not to yelp when the man kicked him, forcing him back on the ground. "Then you're useless to us!" he hissed, then prepared to slice the teenager with the knife. Seeing this, the kid rolled, and the knife buried its tip to where he had been milliseconds ago. Frustrated, the tall man took the knife again, and the short one twirled a dagger. The tall man managed to grab the teen's right wrist, causing the him to scream in fury, "Let me go!" to which the man said, "Not so fast, dear boy." The knife glinted in the faint light, and then struck down.

Pain met the teen's nerves and he screeched, kicking at the men, thrashing wildly. The darkness made it hard to see, but he just managed to slip out from sight. The two men whipped round, looking for him, but he ran faster than ever. The fear that drove him was immense. Red flashed in front of his panicked nephrite jade eyes. He ran so fast, the rest of the world was a phantom-dark blur. His feet thundered against hard ground. Trying to draw a distance from the two men, he scooted further away in a new reason to continue his dangerous escapade. His wrist was in unimaginable agony, and he began to feel light-headed. He didn't know how he was supposed to heal himself. Out of ideas, he scavenged a scrap of cloth from among the alleyways. Using it to stop the bleeding, he sighed. To keep the cloth from falling, he used his watch and fitted it around his wound.

Blue tinged the sky. Looking up, the teen realized that it had been a while since his run. Now how was he supposed to go anu further on foot? Surely he couldn't survive like this. And he needed his wrist tended to. Not only that, he didn't have anywhere to go to anymore. If the two men were still after him, there was no such thing as safe. He would have to do what he could do in order to stay healthy. And he required a new home.

Could he find one? Perhaps. Not everyone would take him in so easily. Maybe they would even treat him like his old family had; mentally whipped around and physically tortured when he had done nothing wrong. The wrath had been so hard to go through that he doubted the risks. Was all this even worth it? Was he better off at home, or out here, wounded and hungry?

Well, the choice had been made, and he would have to live with it. A death out here would still be better than a death caused by his family. Haunting thoughts filled the boy's mind as he tried to banish them. He let out a loud sigh. Somehow, the pain jolted up his arm again, almost causing him to cry. He carefully touched his watch, hoping that he was okay. Above, the stars glimmered, but they didn't give him much hope. The sun was beginning to rise, the orange rays of light making it hard to see the stars.

Faint thoughts stacked up in his mind again, but he pushed them away. Tucked in the alleyways on his own now, he couldn't help but feel a bit content that he was alone. He needed to draw more distance away from home, though, so he set off on a hobby walk. He did not take the main roads, only going through the maze of alleys. The gaps stank, but he wasn't surprised. He ignored the waves of pain transmitted from his wrist, and continued on. Hope no longer glimmered in his heart; all of it was lost. Not knowing how he was sustaining himself, he wondered if there was something else he could do for himself. He considered finding scraps of junk and selling them across the streets, but the idea was rather unappealing. Neither did he want to simply beg for money. He didn't deserve it. Then again, he didn't deserve getting beaten up at home either.

One tendril of thought plunged into him and caught his attention. Would someone actually have the heart to take him in? Those cases were rare. Perhaps he had condemned himself to this life. Uncertainty caused him to falter. Was it possible for him to find euphoria? Now that his old life became a shattered memory, the chances were very low. Afraid, he shuddered and say down for a moment. Assuming a position while gripping his knees, he rested. This would probably be his first out of many stops. Somehow, he had this feeling that this story wouldn't end well.

Realizing that doing nothing wouldn't be much of a help, he carefully got up and studied his surroundings. He was in the typical, narrow alley with dusty walls with old graffiti patterns on them. The ground was made of rough cement and overall, the sight was rather distasteful. He wrinkled his nose at this and gave up. Daylight finally roused him again. What he noticed was music. It was from far away, but he didn't have any trouble finding its source; cheering followed the beat. As he followed his senses, he realized that he was looking at some sort of dance group. What he noticed was that each dancer was different; no two were alike.

Observing them from afar, he took notes on each one. They were just normal street dancers, but they caught his interest. Dancing had never really been a part of his childhood, but he was one who was forced to grow up fast anyway. Perhaps now was his chance to pick up some tips. Each dancer was describable; he had already singled out eight who stood out. One was a female dancer with an attitude and an athletic figure. When she got up, the teen heard cheers yelling, "Emilia! Emilia!"

Another one was Aubrey. The teen had seen the way she acted as snobby, so she was probably a rich descendant. Her dancing style was different from Emilia's. The teen thought of her as one who probably didn't appreciate the others. He didn't take a liking to her personality and went on to the other dancers; this time a male.

That one was Angel. The kid didn't really approve of the name at first, but the dancer was pretty awesome. Significant in the way he spoke, the show-off was probably a Latino. He had this flare that caught the boy's attention. Wearing a delicate visor and smoothing his brown hair, this Angel guy was a magnet for fangirls. And it was no lie; he earned massive applauds each time he went up to dance.

The teenager also noticed a rather mystic dancer known as Oblio. He was very different from the others, and not only by appearance. His blue hair did make him stand out, but so did the way he spoke. Seemingly a poet of some sort, not every dance style fitted him.

Dare and MacCoy were two other dancers who were always jamming the party. The teenager thought of them as great dancers as well. MacCoy had blonde hair and a rather funny accent, while Dare was a pink-haired dancer with a unique type of style. Taye was another girl; she was one who thought highly of herself, but wasn't all too bad.

All that from watching a single dance performance.

Jolting, the kid realized he had missed one dancer. His name was Mo, and he was the guy that somehow inspired the kid. He didn't know why, but Mo has this kindling spark to him that differed him from the others. Maybe it wad the way he spoke or the style of dance he represented. The kid didn't know. One thing he remembered wad that he had said, 'Glitch in the system? It'll make the beat go overdrive! Let it play!' Somehow, those sentences were printed in the teen's mind.

Maybe this was his gateway to euphoria.