Ch I: Paranoia
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All he knew was that everyone was trying to kill him.
Whenever he shared this morsal of information with anybody they called him crazy. They looked at him with disgust or pity, he didn't know which was worse, then turned away or laughed at him. A few of them shoved money at him. A couple of them patted him hand in a patronising manner, told him in was all in his head. He didn't know what to do, run away or just laugh with them. One cop even informed him that he obviously needed to get some "help" and attempted to drag him off to someplace where that could happen. He was just some crazy nutter they all wanted to get away as soon as possible.
So he quickly learned not to tell people, not to look for help since no one would believe him.
He knew it was true though. He knew it was true deep down in his bones. He couldn't just dismiss the evidence; he wished he could. He had been in nine different cities in seven months. And every new place he went they would eventually find him and try to kill him. And they nearly succeeded more times than he'd like to admit. They had open methods and silent methods. They had varied methods, silent assassins creeping around in the shadows with a garrotte or a knife, sometimes just being bold and shooting at him with a .9 mm. Ganging up on him, trying to beat him to death. Blowing up a place he had found to stay. One time, the cops had hauled him in. Apparently his face was on one of those "Wanted" posters. They hauled him into the station, locked him in a bare room and three hours of lonely boredom later, official looking people showed up and dragged him off while whispering in his ear the painfully slow was they were going to kill him for giving them all so much trouble.
Somehow he had always been able to get away alive. Hardly ever unscathed, but at least alive. Lately he'd been able to see them coming before they saw him, so more often than not he can avoid them. But they still kept coming.
That was how he knew everyone was trying to kill him.
Oh, he knew it wasn't REALLY everyone. But the trouble was that he didn't know who they were. There were some faces he recognised from previous attempts, but most were people he'd never seen before. Because a lot of them were strangers, it meant that everyone he met could potentially be a future foe.
And so he was constantly on alert, constantly wary, not able to trust anyone. Always on his guard, looking over his shoulder, getting more paranoid by the day.
He was not only exhausted from all this, he was also confused as hell. Because not only did he not know who was after him, but he also had absolutely no clue to the reason why they all wanted him dead.
He was exhausted, confused and terrified.
And to top it all off, he had absolutely not idea who the fucking hell he was.
Author's Chapter Notes:
He woke, everyone is trying to kill him and he has no idea who they are or why.