Fiction: Group 4
Reality Check
International College Hong Kong (ICHK), Cranfield, Katrina - 14, Fiction: Group 4
10PM
eality One:
You couldn’t believe your eyes. Everything you had earned and worked for in the past
two months was gone. Well, most of it. At first, you were too stunned to move, simply staring at
the remains of the green bag, it’s original sports bag shape, unrecognisable.
“He…He set it on fire…He set the bloody thing on fire! Are you kidding me?!” It wasn’t till you
looked at the unfamiliar faces beside you, that you realized you’d just yelled it out loud.
Four strange men looked from you to the bag, just as confused as you were. What do they have to
do with all this? After all, it is your money. Or should you say,
was
your money.
You leaned your upper body over the solid railing, the only thing keeping you from plunging into
the river below to retrieve what you once knew as your bag. Your hands balled into fists around the icy
metal, your warm sweat transferring onto it’s numbing surface.
‘Alright, calm down. It’s not a full loss, I mean surely, it wasn’t
all
the money or- Damn…It was
all of it. That’s a lot of burned cash, damn him! Maybe if you just explain the situation to her, maybe she
will understand, yeah maybe if… But then again, it’s Cecilia Haywood we’re talking about. Gah, damn it all
to hell, you can just live with it, right?’ You desperately tried to reassure yourself, mentally of course. You
let go of the railing and wiped your sweat riddled palms on the side of your baggy jeans, as if you were
trying to get rid of all the stress and pain you felt at that current point in time.
Reality Two:
“Ah, what a night to be out, eh? The lights surely do bring characteristic to the city, especially
since-”
“Just keep driving, you’re turning left up here and then left again directly afterwards.” You cut off
your friend, ‘Sugar’ as you called her, grumbling lightly at her constantly bright attitude.
You clutched the green bag to your side, afraid of loosing it…again. If you were to loose sight of it
once more, you know Celica wouldn’t be happy. After all, she did trust you, and trust is something hard to
get back. You readjusted your helmet slightly, the wisps of hair poking out from it danced in the wind that
rushed past, your eyes captivated by it’s quick yet smooth flow of movement. As you rounded the corner,
your right hand moved from Sugar’s waist to the bike, gripping it so you don’t slide off, the bag still hugged
to your side.
9PM
Reality One:
You urged yourself onwards, having no other choice but to chase this maniac on foot. You
watched with both amusement and confusion as he sped and swerved all over the traffic-infested road, like
watching a circus act for the first time. You barely managed to catch up, before he swerved to the left, onto
the Pearl River road, sending rubble and ripped newspapers your way.
On the opposite side of the road you could see a group of perhaps three or four men? Wait, are
they chasing the same vehicle? Who even are these men? You decided to ignore them and their yells of
urgency, barely audible over the beeping horns of the traffic.
You continued your chase, your heart beat sounded loud and clear in your ears. Must. Get. My.
Money. You pushed yourself further, greed and anger clouded your mind. The wrecked vehicle suddenly
stopped, the front half entering a footbridge over the river, scaring a few pedestrians away in a hurry.
As you neared, you could just make out the figure ahead, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep puff
of the cancer stick. You head over swiftly, anxiety building up as you approach. From the corner of your
eye you see the four men advance towards the drunk as well.
“Give us the bag, we need it and it’s ours, not yours. So-” The (presumed) leader of the group
barked, but was soon interrupted by your outburst.
R
