Chapter 3: You've been hit by, you've been struck by Truck-Kun.
Sam is a lonely boy. He stays in his bedroom all week, having his food brought up to him by his neglected mother who works in several jobs in retail, construction and other shady businesses because the father of the family suddenly disappeared on all records and contacts on the day of Sam's birth, and he watches anime religiously on illegal piracy websites and reads novels on reincarnation and transmigration on Webnovel. He has no friends in school, which he misses frequently, and he doesn't socialise whatsoever in real life.
His day consists of a strict schedule which revolves around himself and his image: He wakes up at 4PM, eats, binges anime (recently binges Inter-Species Reviewers) and then reads a few chapters of his favourite webnovels before falling asleep dreaming and fantasising about the experiences he would see if he was in the protagonists' shoes, only to repeat the schedule when he wakes up.
Unsurprisingly, this obsession and his lack of spcial interaction eventually made him delusional and egotistical. Whenever he played video games or went online, he would put on a grandiose facade and genuinely believe he was more important than anyone else. Of course, his mother picked up on this rather quickly and yet there was nothing she could do due to the fact that she couldn't afford to hire a therapist. Thus, she had to either plead with him or idly wait around and do nothing. Out of these two options, she chose to plead. However, this made things worse.
As time goes by, Sam became unknowingly aggressive and sensitive. Due to this, he only saw his mother as a nuisance and often lashed out at her, only to hear her plead louder.
Then, something snapped. Sam stood from his bed, the crimson rays shining through his curtains onto the monochrome walls and walked to his door. He opened the door and skipped to the nearest road and waited...
And then he waited some more...
And some more...
Until, in the corner of his eye, he noticed the blinding glimmer of the white paint strewn lazily over the truck. His time had come and he was overjoyed. He eyed the truck and waited for the perfect opportunity. The truck came closer and closer and then Sam leapt forward.
Immediate regret surged up on Sam's face as his face grew red like a ripe tomato and his stomach became compressed like a hydrolic press on WeTube. His life flashed before his eyes, and tears formed and welled in his eyes, forming into a river of tears filled with shame, misery, regret and self-loathe. He truly felt like he had wasted his life and could only hope that those webnovels were accurate.
And yet everything remained black.
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