Page 1 of Corruption
Chapter 1
-Alison-
When faced with the knowledge of impending death, the strangest thoughts course through your mind. I was certain I’d think about my family, my husband, perhaps even my friends, but these weren’t the thoughts that surfaced. Instead, it was a distant memory, one I rarely allowed to enter my mind nowadays.
He was the strangest sight I had ever encountered. That was my immediate reaction as I approached the boy, who was crouched down, engrossed in observing a line of ants traversing the sandy playground. I smiled, cautiously making my way toward him. As my shadow abruptly fell in front of him, disrupting his view, he tilted his head back, pushing aside his long, dark hair in an attempt to see me. The sun beamed down on us, causing him to squint his eyes.
“What are you doing?” I inquired.
The boy remained silent, his gaze fixed once more on the ants. Never before had I experienced being ignored, and this unusual encounter unsettled me deeply. In a surge of anger, I lifted my foot and swept it across the line of ants, sending them into disarray as I ruined their painstaking work.
“No!” the boy exclaimed, witnessing the chaos among the tiny creatures.
“They’re just ants!”
The boy made no acknowledgment of my presence and simply continued to study the ants’ frantic movements. His indifference grated on my nerves, prompting me to shove him backward until he landed on the ground. He looked up at me, taken aback, but then quickly scrambled to his feet and retaliated by pushing me back. I regarded him in disbelief, but hidden behind his long bangs, I discerned a fiery determination that somehow matched my own. I had never encountered anyone possessing the same intensity as me. This boy intrigued me immensely.
“You can’t push a girl!” I protested.
“I didn’t push you!” he argued.
“You pushed me!”
“You shoved me first! And you ruined their work!”
“And? They’re just ants,” I argued.
“They’re actually quite intelligent. My mother says all creatures in this world deserve respect,” the boy lectured, astonishing me with his wise words.
“Where is your mother?” I asked, scanning the place.
The boy did the same, then pointed toward a woman standing at a distance, engrossed in conversation with a man, her back turned to us. Even from our vantage point, we could hear her infectious laughter.
“Is that your father?”
I turned my head to gauge the boy’s reaction, seeing him shake his head, a perplexed expression clouding his features.
“Where is your father?” I probed further.
“At work.”
“Mine works too,” I disclosed, witnessing the boy turning his gaze toward me, prompting me to offer a warm smile. “What’s your name?”
“Jared.”
“I’m Alison,” I introduced, extending my hand.
He cast a hesitant glance at my outstretched hand, appearing unsure of what to do.
“It’s a handshake,” I clarified, puzzled by his hesitation.
Jared shrugged. “No one shakes hands with me.”
“Why?” I pressed.
“They think I’m strange,” he whispered.
“I like ‘strange’.”
