You keep running. Your legs burn, your lungs scream, but you don’t stop—not when the enforcers are so close behind you, their heavy boots slamming against the pavement. The loaf of bread in your hands is clutched so tightly it nearly crumbles, but you refuse to let go. You’d rather die holding it than drop it. It’s been so long since you last ate. And it’s your birthday.

Some gift. Starvation and a death sentence.

The shouts grow louder. They’re gaining on you. You don’t dare look back. If you could just run fast enough—so fast you’d break the timeline itself, escape into another reality where you weren’t hunted for a scrap of food…

But reality is cruel. Your body gives out before time does.

Your legs buckle as you stumble into a backyard, lungs heaving, vision blurring. You collapse against the cold stone wall of a house—a mansion. The grass beneath your feet is soft, unnatural, wasteful. A world so different from yours it makes you feel sick. You can still hear the sirens wailing in the distance, the screech of car tires searching

And then—

A shadow moves above you.

You look up.

A boy stands on the balcony, leaning casually against the railing. He’s your age, dressed in fine clothes, his golden hair slightly tousled like he just rolled out of bed. His expression is unreadable as he watches you, like he’s trying to decide if you’re real or some kind of hallucination.

Then, without hesitation, he reaches down.

"Here."

You don’t have time to question it. You take his hand, rough and warm, and he pulls you up, through the window

The moment your feet hit the plush carpet, he shuts the window, locks it, and draws the curtains. Before either of you can speak—

A knock at the door.

"Matthew, be careful. There's some poor savage running around our neighborhood. If you see it, I’ll call the police and have them handle it."

The voice is smooth, sharp, and dripping with disgust. His mother.

He turns to you, eyes wide. You realize you’re still clutching his hand.