I woke up in the sewers. In the center, there was a huge pit, filthy water flowing into it. The pit was fenced off, surrounded by trash. Everything stank—but I was used to it. After all, I've lived here for 20 years.
And no, you didn't mishear—20 years.
20 years ago, my house burned down. All my documents and money burned with it. And so, I started wandering the sewers just to survive somehow.
I made a little den down here, you could say. I had a bed on the floor and some small tables in the corners of this little den.
And honestly, everything was just fine… Until that happened.
Some hobos broke into my den and started beating the shit out of me with anything they could find.
It hurt like hell.
After another hit, I tried to make contact with them.
"Guys, what are you doing? If you want, we could just live here together. No need for violence, right?"
And as I said this, they kept hitting me. They didn't listen. They just kept hitting.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it—I was getting closer to the pit. Yeah, that huge pit.
They wanted to push me over the fence and into it.
And they succeeded...
**— Splat **
As the splat echoed, I fell into the pit full of dirty water. Instinctively, I started screaming.
— Aaaaaaah!
...
I ended up by a riverbank. I opened my eyes, and my head felt like it was being sliced open.
"At least I'm still alive… ha."
I couldn't help but chuckle after being thrown out of the den I had been building for over 20 years.
My mind was filled with all sorts of thoughts. But the main one was:
"Why are people so cruel?"
They came out of nowhere and just started beating me like savages.
Jesus...
...
So after wandering around a bit, I found a city.
It was a pretty average-looking city for 2018, with some small apartment buildings.
If an average resident of a decent city saw this place—where the buildings looked at least somewhat modern—he'd call this a poor and uncomfortable dump.
And let's not even talk about what someone from an elite city would say...
Anyway, I walked into the city and saw a policeman walking toward me on the path.
I ran up to him.
"Uhh... Officer! Please help me, I—"
And before I could even finish, the words flew out of his mouth:
"Ugh, you stink... Get away from me, you damn tramp!"
And just like that, the cop turned around and ran away from me.
What the hell does that mean? "Damn tramp"? Seriously?
Oh, right... that's pretty much how everyone's treated me for the past 20 years.
Whenever I approached people, they'd say stuff like:
"Get the fuck outta here, you stink, you shit-eater."
Goddamn it.
No one's going to help me find a place to live.
The only one who can help me... is me.
"Well... First, I gotta find some food."
I thought that and started walking down the other side of the path.
Maybe if I wander around a bit, I'll find something.
I saw some people fixing something on the road and a small building nearby.
"Bottle Collection Point"
That's what the building was called.
Inside was a girl with chestnut hair and violet eyes.
And now we had a little conversation.
"Hello, miss. Do you accept bottles here?"
"Hi. We don't take broken bottles, no loans, and the prices are right behind me."
Her sweet voice reached my ear.
There were prices behind her, but honestly, I'd forgotten how to read after spending so many years in the sewers, cut off from the world.
"Miss... I can't see your price list... I mean, I can't read it."
Not wanting to embarrass myself, I pretended I had bad eyesight—better that than admitting I couldn't read.
Of course, I still reeked from my dirty body... but whatever.
"Well, the red bottle on the left is 1 ruble, the green one in the middle is 2 rubles, and the blue one on the right is 5 rubles."
"Alright, thank you."
After thanking her, I went off to look for bottles...
Never thought I'd end up bottle-hunting, but whatever—at least the city would be cleaner.
I looked around the city, then headed to the forest—there were usually more bottles there.
Mostly I found bottles worth 1–2 rubles. Still no sign of that 5-ruble bottle.
I picked up the red and green ones for now, but the blue bottle? Nowhere to be seen.
And then, suddenly—lady luck smiled on me.
Around the corner of a tree, I finally found a 5-ruble bottle!
"Perfect."
I couldn't help but celebrate. Until then, I'd only found red and green ones.
And for some reason, I still wasn't feeling hungry. Maybe because I was still full from eating old pizza and random stuff in my den.
And no, you didn't mishear.
The main reason I'm still alive and healthy after eating such trash is because my body got used to it—it fights off any infection or bacteria easily.
Once I finished collecting all the bottles in the forest, I headed back to the city.
I still needed more bottles. And I knew exactly where to look.
I've been a hobo for 20 years—I know the dirtiest places, especially the ones with lots of bottles.
And the first place that came to mind...
The dump.
I had to dig through the dump. That's usually where the most expensive bottles are.
While walking through the city, I saw a house.
A filthy one.
People in poor houses like that—three-story buildings, more or less—tend to drink a lot.
There was another house on the right.
A small wooden two-story house.
Whoever lived there probably couldn't even afford booze, so I ignored it—too poor.
And in the center stood a giant, modern apartment complex.
I call the people living there millionaires.
But I wasn't in a hurry to go there—they threw away the kind of trash I didn't need.
So I kept walking down the path and saw two thugs sitting on the steps of that filthy three-story building.
They were drinking and dressed like complete idiots.
I couldn't just ignore them—there were no bottles nearby.
"Hey there, fellas. Having a drink? Mind saving those bottles for me? I can wait!"
They immediately hit me with disgusting words.
"Hey, you tramp!! Do you know how much this bottle means to me?!"
"Get lost! Don't ruin my mood—it's already ruined!"
Ahh, shit. They were drunk, and their brains were no better than worms'.
Still, I kept trying—just more carefully this time.
"B-but... I really need your bottle...?"
One of the thugs punched me in the face.
"Agh—please, don't?!"
And he hit me again, even after I asked him not to.
"Alright, alright!! I don't care about your bottles!"
So I ran off and found more bottles along the way... and of course, ran into yet another unwanted person—
A policeman.