Run for it

Getting out took top priority, you could figure out the rest on the fly. You swung open your bedroom door and made a dash to the stairs. Unfortunately, your boxers got hooked in your door hinge, and you had too much momentum to stop in time.

The audible ripping of fabric was swiftly followed by a series of blunt impacts as you went tumbling down the stairs.

“What was that? You alright out there?” You heard your sister call from the shower.

But you gave her no response. Instead you got back on your feet and ram to the front door. You threw on the nearest coat and grabbed the first pair of shoes on the rack, before barreling out the door and running as fast as you could down the street.

As you ran, you came to realize this new body was nowhere near as athletic as your previous one. When you finally rounded the corner and were out of sight from your house, you glanced behind you to see if anyone was following you. Unfortunately, this caused you not to notice the crack in the pavement, and you went crashing into the coarse ground.

You lied their, your hands and knees scraped and slightly bleeding, panting and out of breath, your lungs and legs burning from exhaustion, a bad case of runner’s cramp, and a series of other small bruises littering your body from your tumble down the stairs.

As your breathing calmed down, you started to take stock of your situation. Lightly injured, homeless, no cash, and your only clothes were… actually, what were you wearing?