Chapter Text
Lyric paced down the dusty walkway, skirt swishing and head held down, heels clicking as they kicked up faint puffs of dirt into the chilly October air.
The air had turned sharp and chilly, a large contrast from the boiling weather that Lyric had experienced when she had first arrived in this strange new world three months prior.
Lyric avoided eye contact with the people around her and abruptly turned into the alleyway to her right, the buildings on either side of her that had once seemed looming, now seeming protective as her steps lightened.
Almost there.
It wasn’t a home. Not really. But it was a safe haven in this strange world. Lyric fumbled in her handbag as she reached the large wooden back door of her large, moss-covered apartment building. She pulled out an iron key and opened the lock. The door creaked open and Lyric rushed inside, clicking the door shut behind her.
She took a long deep breath.
Made it through one more day.
Lyric had never really considered herself the anxious sort. But given the circumstances she decided to give herself a break.
After all, Lyric thought with a snort, pulling off her jacket and removing her kid leather gloves, Who wouldn’t be anxious to wake up in a some sort of mash-up of a sci-fi historical novel. I don’t know whether to look for a dashing duke to sweep me off my feet or a muscular blue alien to take me to his motherland.
Lyric flopped down in her couch with a sigh.
For the thousandth time she wished she was anywhere other than here.
Why me? What did I do to deserve this mixed-up world with…sub-humans and other weird species?
Lyric was just minding her business, working as a doctor for the first time after she finally completed the grueling years of medical school, when she when to sleep after her first shift and woke up here.
The only positive to this situation is that the person that she woke up as seemed to be a blank slate. The house, while filled with decorations, was impersonal and could have been a show house for how much personal items were in there. The woman seemed to have no family and no friends, with no previous history on record. The only positive is that the lady was somehow filthy rich with no explanation as to how she came by that wealth. It’s like this person popped into existence for the sole purpose of Lyric’s inhabitation into the world. She even looked like Lyric.
I guess this sort of life is par for the course for me though.
Lyric had no family who would miss her at home or not many friends to speak of. She felt a sort of strange sympathy for this woman, if this was a real person.
She settled on the sofa and flipped on the radio. While there was television in this world, she preferred not to listen to the news of this strange world.
The inflation crisis that many believe to be...
Lyric changed the channel. Based on her calculations she had enough money to live on comfortably for the rest of her life, so why worry about hearing the news of this world. Listening to soft jazz music, Lyric drifted off to sleep.
***
Lyric woke up to the sound of the radio’s soft mumble behind her. She shook her head, groggy for a moment, then remembered where she was.
"Ugh" Lyric groaned softly.
She stumbled up off of the couch and shook the crick out of her neck. She never really understood why she laid on the couch when she could just take the few steps into her bedroom and go to sleep in her own bed.
But it's always been about taking the few steps with you, hasn't it. her mind spoke to her bitterly.
"Ugh," Lyric groaned again. her mind had always been her worst critic.
To be fair though, she had let herself down since coming to this world.
She looked around the small living room. Pieces of clothing that Lyric had dropped on the floor and food wrappers adorned the once neat living room floor. A sense of disgust twisted through Lyric. She never used to behave this way when she was still in medical school.
So why am I falling apart now? Lyric wondered.
But Lyric has always felt like she was one bad choice away from a mental breakdown. Even in her original world Lyric and her family weren't…close. She had always felt spectacularly alone. But what had always kept her going was her goal of getting to the end of her arduous college journey, then finishing residency, then paying off debt, etc.
“If no-one else needs me, I need me, and my patients need me” was Lyric's mantra and it had kept her pushing when she didn't think she still had strength to push. But now, stranded in this confusing world, with everything she had worked for left behind and everything she had ever hoped for like money and security dropped in her lap, Lyric felt hollow.
Why do I feel this way?
She looked at the scattered piles of clothing and trash that cluttered the carpeted living room floor. She tried to start picking up the mess that was left in her living room, but suddenly she was filled with exhaustion.
What is even the point? I'm the only one here.
So, she dropped the cloth loosely grasped in her fingers and instead headed to her room. And if when she closed her eyes the faint sting of shame burned behind them, well, there wasn't anyone to see it anyways.
***
A new day does come and with it Lyric felt a little better. Humming and pacing through the kitchen Lyric grabbed for the recipe book that was left in the old-fashioned cabinet above the sink. When she came, it was filled with recipe cards with pictures of some of the delicacies of this world. Lyric has found that the majority of the food is very similar to what is available in her home world. She had a craving for cinnamon rolls for days now and she finally was going to make some!
Lyric hummed, her mood high as she rummaged through the cabinets and the groceries that she had left on the counter from her grocery excursion the night before, collecting ingredients and shoving things aside on the counter so she could make a neat little pile of what she was going to work with. When she finished she surveyed the pile of ingredients, comparing them to what was listed in the recipe.
She came to a slow, horrible realization. I don’t have cinnamon. She groaned and dropped her head in her hands. That was one of the few ingredients she couldn't substitute or do without. She frantically went through her cabinets hoping that maybe in the back of the cluttered spice cabinet was a jar of cinnamon she might have missed. Nothing. Lyric just stared for a few minutes, all of her good mood gone. She considered just giving up on the cinnamon rolls, but then a sense of anger and stubbornness rose up from the bottom of her heart. She had been thinking about the cinnamon rolls for so long. She could handle this one simple thing. Lyric stomped to her bedroom and hurriedly got ready, then she stomped to the door snatching her purse from the floor by the couch on her way out. Then she took a deep breath and shoved open her back door.
She hurried down the street, heading down as usual before reaching her neighborhood grocery in about five minutes. There were a few pedestrians and a couple of elec-carriages meandering down the cobbled roads, but it was mostly empty as it was still early on a Saturday morning. Lyric pulled on the heavy wooden door of the grocery, setting off a pleasant jingle.
"Good morning, Miss Lyric! Back already?"
The jovial shopkeeper smiled at Lyric. He was probably the only one in this world who knew Lyric's name as this was the only store she had been to, and he always seemed to be working here. Perhaps he owned the store. Lyric gave a closed lip smile and hurried by, guilty that she doesn't know his name as well. She quickly walked down the expansive aisles and soon reached the spice section. She scanned the shelves and soon saw the cinnamon. As her hand reached for it, suddenly there was a loud shout front end of the aisle.
"You imbecile! how dare you!"
Lyric turned and saw a large man, red faced with a considerable mustache, screaming down at the young man at his feet. The man was rail thin and was crouching and babbling something which only seemed to incense the man further as he began to yell louder and swung at the boy. The boy let out a cry as the hit landed directly. Lyric saw a splash of blood come from the young man's nose. She usually didn't get involved in things that weren't her business, but this seemed… a bit much.
Lyric rushed down the aisle.
"Hey! stop!"
The man turned in her direction as she reached where he was standing.
"What do you want?" he snarled at her.
"What are you doing to him?"
"Disciplining my pet, what do you think?" he snarled, spittle flying out of his mouth, face red with rage.
Oh. So, these must be the "pets"' Lyric has heard about and read of in the news. Apparently, these sub-humans are weaker than normal humans with lesser thinking capabilities.
Lyric looked down at the young sub-human on the floor. His eyes were closed tightly shut, tears leaking from the corners. Blood trickled down from his nose and his ribs stuck out from his body.
When she had heard of the “sub-humans” she was not expecting…this.
“Sorry, sorry master,” he whimpered.
“Hush! There’s no excuse for this!” the large man waved an opened plastic package with a loaf of bread, a large bite taken out of it.
“I take you into my home and you have the audacity, the gall, to steal from me?”
Lyric looked at the young man. He looked no older than 14 and was skeleton thin. His bony hands trembled and his skin was pale. Sub-human or not Lyric had taken the Hippocratic oath and she was going to try her best to help him.