Blood trickled down his cheeks, and the sight of the vehicles hit a painful place inside him. They reminded him of the familiar world he had left behind.
Then a pungent scent rolled through the air and caught Ty off guard. He halted, his senses overwhelmed.
This unexpected stop caused one of the guards to bump into him.
Just then, a bottle whizzed by, narrowly missing Ty and shattering against the sidewalk with a sharp crash. The crowd's hostility ripped him out of the brief moment of nostalgia.
The guard behind Ty, impatient with the halt, roughly pushed him forward, his voice stern, "Don't stop walking." Ty's ears caught a hostile shout from the crowd, "Fuck you, Demon!
Just go die already!" The words cut through the air, laced with venom and disdain.
As Ty was forced to resume his march, he found himself amid a sea of faces, from people in rustic garments to others in business suits.
