The Drifters


a person who is continually moving from place to place, without any fixed home or job.

"They drift, they wear dark clothes, have dark hair, live a dark live hidden in the darkness. They train very hair and they never stay in one place for a long time because if they do they are no longer what they call themselves. They fight for peace when they are the ones causing all of the war. They don't blame themselves they blame you, they blame the world that we live in, they blame everyone but themselves. They are the problem but they are also the solution."


2. chapter one

The breeze overwhelms me. I am stood on a roof with gravel covering its surface. How did I get here? The ground seems distant. I do not know how far, just like I do not know how I got on top of this building or how I am supposed to get down. Looking around I see nothing but the concrete roof and the ground below. No other buildings I can see are as tall as this one I am stood on. The other buildings are no longer at their full glory, parts are missing, and windows smashed their rubble piles on the sidewalk below.

Light headed, I sit down carefully on the concrete. How did I get here? I’m repeating myself. Do I have a concussion? This building is tall and by the look of my small weak body I would not have been able to climb and still won’t be able to do it now. I can’t process anything at the moment, what is my name? My memory isn’t there, as I try to think my head begins to ache and hurt as if the memory I had is gone, did I even have one in the first place?

I feel like a lifeless vegetable up here on this building. I am most definitely stuck up here with no way of escape. And I am beginning to get scared; my heart rate is too fast for my body to come. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins and I feel uneasy. 

“Help!” I shout out to the city. If there is anyone out there how are they even going to help me get down anyway? They won’t be able to, I am too high and they are too low. My voice becomes a deadly echo. I am not smart, well not smart enough to think of a way off of this building.

Standing again I run to the side of the building and stop at the ledge. It’s too far off of the ground to jump and not kill myself, also too high to climb down without the risk of falling. I look around in a desperate attempt. What if I get stuck up here? I will die of starvation before anyone even finds me.

Then my eyes trace across the building to a wire that extends from this building and down into the depths of the city. My heart beat somehow gets faster as the idea forms in my mind. Am I brave enough to use the wire to get down there? Or am I willing to stay up here and die.

I only have one choice and that is to use the wire. The other choice is the cowardly way out. My sub conscious is telling me to fight for my life and not just stick around up here because there are risks. I do hope it isn’t just the adrenaline in my body telling my brain to do stupid things.

I rip off an arm from my long sleeved top and step on the ledge so I can reach the wire; it is a struggle for me to reach at first. I guess I’m not the tallest person. With one swift movement I throw the sleeve over the wire and grip onto both ends of the sleeve. My heart is racing as I close my eyes and focus on what I am about to do, jump off of a building that could be more than 1,000 feet tall. I inhale deeply and then exhale quickly.

When I open my eyes I don’t think, just do.

The wind greets me and my hands shake but I grip on for my life and watch as my knuckles go white from the muscle strain in my hands.

As the ground approaches me I think about what to do before I reach the ground, I am going very fast and at the speed when I hit the floor I will break a bone or two if I don’t do it the right way. No ideas come to mind on how to do this and I don’t know how anyway from having no memories so what do I do, the ground is coming at me, and fast.

There is no way to slow down. I am staring death in the face and somehow I am not scared. I am not scared of death. When the ground is in focus and I see that I will have to drop I do.

My hands return to their natural colour as I am airborne and falling at an alarming rate. I tuck my body in as tight as I can and as my body hits the hard concrete ground I roll and hit a wall which stops any more movement. Everything seems to hurt. For a moment I lay still of the ground and stare at the ground below me. Pain shoots through me from the hard landing.

I have to keep on moving otherwise I won’t survive. As I turn over onto my back I open my eyes and find a muscular boy staring down at me. His eyes quite confused at seeing me. I am wide-eyed staring up at him. The boy scares me and I want to scream but what will it accomplish? There is probably no one else around.

I scramble onto my feet and before he can say anything I turn and run away from him. I don’t know anyone and who can I trust? He is just one person, I know I need help but I am scared.

As I run I check behind me to see him running after me shouting something but the adrenaline pumping through my body doesn’t allow me to hear a word he is saying. My life is on the line, but what life?

I try to push myself harder but pain slows me down. I check again and he is no longer there? This could all be a trick so I don’t stop and I just run for my life.

Only do I stop when I am tackled to the ground by the same boy I was running from. I don’t just lie on the ground in pain I try to fight back by thrashing my legs around. I don’t have any memories so how am I supposed to know how to fight and what the weaknesses of my opponent are.

My ears finally clear up and I hear the boy say, “I am trying to help you!” The boy sounds angry and annoyed and I would be too if the person you were trying to help is thrashing themselves around violently because you are trying to help, so I stop and lie still. “Man, you can put up a struggle.”

The boy stands and pushes his hand out for me to grab so I do. Being small has an advantage; people can easily help you up without hurting themselves. I dust my clothes down quickly. As I look up his eyes are on me, hard and intense. “What’s your name?” I don’t reply because I can’t.

“I don’t know my name.” I say innocently. The boy’s eyes tighten to create a suspicious attempt to stare me down and catch my bluff. But there is no bluff to catch with me. “I honestly don’t know who I am, where I came from and why I am here.” I blurt out angrily. My situation is stressful because I don’t know a thing. I wish I could just know something that could link me to my old life. That would be nice.

When I look up my eyes meet his and I notice sympathy glimmering as he stares at me. He wears fully black plain clothing. The boy’s hair is messy, his brown locks looking almost black, he wears a tight t-shirt which clings tightly to his broad shoulders, clingy jeans showing off his masculine calves and plain sneakers with black laces too.

I run my hand through my hair and sigh. “If I knew my name I would tell you.” The boy nods and starts to walk away. “Wait! Where are you going?” He stops and turns on his heels.

“If you want to stay alive out here then your only choice is to follow me.” I give the boy a confused look and he just shrugs, raising one eyebrow as he does. So I agree to follow him and walk behind, closely.

We come out from the alley where the wire ended and end up on an isolated road that is cracked; reminiscence of road paint scars the concrete roads is present. It seems so desolated and scary.

I wonder where I came from and if that place is like this one, lonely and damaged. The boy is speedily walking ahead so I skip to catch them up but find that my leg hurts more than it should. I have to stop because the pain is getting the better of me. My head pounds and I am sweating heavily. “My leg.” I say loudly so that he can hear. I stop and lift my trouser leg up to find that there is blood dripping down.

Tripping, I fall backwards over something and hit the ground hard. Too much has happened in this past ten minutes for me to even understand and put together what has happened. I must have scraped my leg when coming off of the wire.

The boy approaches me and examines my leg closely. I sit up and he raises my leg high, finding the bleeding wound quickly. He pulls a mesh bandage from his jean pocket and begins wrapping it around my leg. Once the bandaging is done he places one hand firmly on my waist and helps me onto my other leg.

“Where are we going?” I ask as we begin to walk, or hop in my case. My leg hurts too much for me to bear but I push through the pain, I have to fight any barrier in my way. I didn’t zip line off of a tall building to just die from a leg wound.

The boy glances up to the murky coloured sky. Rain might fall and cool me down, I hope it does. “It is going to get dark soon, we need to find shelter.” What is this boy even doing out in the city on his own? This place is isolated, are there others or just him and me? That is another scary thought.

This place is generally freaking me out and to make it even better there is a guy who tackled me to just take me somewhere else. Who do I trust? How do I survive? At the moment these are questions I do not have answers for, but I will do, soon.

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