A brown-haired boy slumped against the wall with his head tucked between his knees. He was staring at his right arm. It was small, the skin hugging the bone so tightly he could see all the curves of the bone. However it wasn't the see through pale skin he was staring at. It was the red, spider-like flowers blooming directly out of his flesh.
His heartbeat was steady. His breath was cold. He was going to die. No, he was already dying.
He lifted his heavy head, wondering if the man that laid across him was sleeping or dead.
"Oi... Upper," Orin yelled, his voice husky. "Oi … Old timer, if you're still alive, you better beat it. Before I get ya killed killed"
The man didn't answer. He looked around trying to find something to make sure he was dead. He grabs a rock and throws it at the man. His throw is weak but it lands on his head. The man doesn't move or make a sound.
His clothes were dyed in bright colors Orin had never seen before. In the slums, no one wore anything but the grey rags handed out by the manager or stolen from a dead body. The man had to be from the City. Or maybe he was a "Goody goody" guard. The ones who take pity on the slum rats and refuse to take protection money from the rats.
If not then he must have known he caught the illness and traveled here to die alone, away from anyone "important."
If Orin weren't dying himself, he would have stripped the man's corpse and sold the clothes for a decent dinner.
"When was the last time I ate?" he whispered.
He couldn't hear his own voice clearly. It sounded like he was speaking underwater. He wasn't scared anymore. He wondered if it was the higanbana calming him.
He also wondered if his mother felt this calm while she died.
He wanted to be happy that her last moments were peaceful. She had given birth to him in this gutter. Fought tooth and nail with everyone to make sure he had all three meals and a warm coat for the winter. Then she left him to fend for himself. He had lived a long time for a slum-kid who didn't get vacciniated. He was proud of himself for it. For sticking around so long alone. He was supposed to turn seventeen some time this year.
Orin froze, staring up at the sky. The idea of him blaming his mother was laughable now. The more he thought, the more he fought the unnatural calm. It wasn't her fault. It was the bastard who had left her pregnant and penniless in the gutter. His mother was beautiful, powerful. If she wasn't present she would've gotten to the city.
She would've gotten her own revenge but she didn't. She remained loyal to him. His eyes burned tears rolling down his checks. Orin was angry. She'd fought so hard for him and he'd forgotten it all and blamed her and none of this was her fault. It was his.
He hadn't thought of that man in years. His father was the reason his mother was dead. He'd probably forgotten her, got married and had another child when it should be him in his mother's place. The thought made his heart hurt. His regret was turning into desperation. And his desperation was turning into something a slum rat should never think of. Hope.
He paused, struggling to remember his recent train of thought.
"The Flower Sickness. The higanbana Is It true that it can give people powers? I heard the guards talk about them. The guard..."
Orin paused, closing his eyes to think. His heart was heavy but it was a regret he needed to die with. The man was dead. He couldn't get any information out of him.
His eyes grew heavy. He didn't fight it even if he didn't catch the illness he could do nothing about his father. For that he needed power. Power he didn't have. He'd always known he would die cold and hungry on Mount Street. That was how everyone in the slums wished to go.
Suddenly, his arm began to itch.
The skin on his arm started bubbling. The red flowers began to blossom out of his arm, rapidly spreading from his wrist to his chest. Orin collapsed, clawing at his heart. His throat slammed shut. His heart felt like it was being squeezed by hot pliers. His eyes began to burn.
He screamed, but he couldn't hear himself anymore. The only proof of his scream was the violent vibration of his vocal cords and the feeling of the corners of his mouth ripping open.
Fire laced through his veins. He scratched at his skin even going as far as using his teeth.
Higanbana was supposed to be painless, he thought through the haze of agony. Did Hagbeard teach him to read wrong?He'd seen it on the poster by the border.
'Higanbana takes you unnoticed, painless so you have to stay alert and check for signs all the time.'
He'd read it over and over again. Did that old man lie to him? Did his mother die like this, too?
Then, as suddenly as it began, the pain stopped.
Orin sat up, gasping for air. His body was still tingling, his throat raw and burning. He raised his right hand, expecting to see the flowers, but his vision shifted.
The red spider lilies weren't just on him anymore. They were growing out of the ground. Spreading across the alley.
He looked for the upper, but the body was gone. In its place stood a void. It was black with sparks of red, a path of red flowers leading directly into the center of the void.
He had seen this once before.
He remembered his mother stuffing him into a trash can, her face twisted in a panic he'd forgotten that part. His mother was anxiously biting her lip. Telling him to stay down.
"Don't look, Orin. No matter what you hear, don't look."
But he had looked. He had seen the void. He watched and waited. A man in masks and yellow uniform walked into the void.
His body began to slide. Against his will, he was being pulled toward the void. His nails dug into the dirt, but the ground itself seemed to be moving. Orin had given up on life, but he didn't want to go like this. Not in pain. Not eaten by monsters.
Everything was spinning. His ears began to ring, making his hands give out and his head bang the pavement. He raised his arm nails digging into the pavement trying to stop himself from going any closer to the void. He tumbled into the black. His vision faded to black.