Matthew found all of this incredibly absurd. Even for Renly, this was pushing the boundaries, as if it were a fantasy. But this was Renly, wasn't it? Amidst the casual demeanor was a world-shaking force.
"Sir, the nails have all been hammered in," Jose's slightly trembling voice interrupted Matthew's thoughts. He lifted his head and subtly gestured with his chin, "Continue to hammer different spots with the hammer, pretending to be still nailing."
Jose's hands trembled uncontrollably. Preparing a corpse was one thing, but imprisoning a living person in a coffin was another. And now things weren't over yet? His brain felt a bit inadequate. "What... What do you mean?"
Matthew had to explain, "Pretend to hammer other parts, seriously strike with the hammer, but without using real nails."
Though Matthew didn't understand why Renly was doing this, he understood Renly's personality. Once he decided, no one could change his mind. Anyone. So, he intended to lend a hand to help Renly make the atmosphere of 'being buried alive' more real, creating the illusion that they were truly nailing the coffin shut.
After Jose realized, he breathed a sigh of relief. He picked up the hammer and began striking again. But not long after he started, muffled thumping sounds echoed from inside the coffin. Jose was startled, and his legs went weak. Anytime you heard sounds coming from a coffin, it felt like the rhythm of a horror movie. But he quickly realized that there was a living person inside, so silence was what was strange.
Even so, the inner fear didn't decrease much.
The movements inside the coffin grew louder. The dull struggles and pains were isolated by the thick coffin wood. Only faint noises could be heard, but precisely this subdued and almost faint resistance intensified one's heartbeats. It felt as if one could truly sense the despair of being buried alive, every corner of the soul suffering torment.
Jose couldn't bear to watch any longer. He felt like he was personally strangling a living being. It wasn't just his hands that were soaked in blood, but he was also cruelly standing by, observing. He couldn't help but turn his head, seeking help from Matthew. Wordlessly, he asked, "Can we stop now? Do we really have to continue? Are you sure he'll be okay? I feel like things are slipping out of control. Maybe we should stop here?"
The struggle inside the coffin grew fiercer and fiercer, the muffled thumping resounded like thunder, fiercely striking the chest. José could hardly bear it anymore. "Please?" He finally couldn't help but speak, his feeble voice laden with boundless fear and desperate pleas.
Unfortunately, Jose received no response. Matthew remained standing in place, tall and resolute, unmoving.
Jose couldn't stand any longer. He stumbled to the side and collapsed onto a chair. His entire body was paralyzed, his face pale. The slightly curled hair was soaked entirely with sweat, as if he had just been pulled from water. His gaze was vacant as he stared at the wooden coffin before him. The struggle inside seemed to be growing fainter and fainter. Did that mean...
"Don't let your thoughts wander."
Matthew's stomach churned, and his nervousness almost made him feel like vomiting. But he had to cut off the endless imagination in his mind and tell himself that the only thing he needed to do was to trust Renly. After all, that was what he was best at, wasn't it?
Back in their days at Cambridge University, motor vehicles were strictly prohibited on campus for safety reasons. One afternoon, Renly had the whim to ride his motorcycle and unexpectedly zoomed into the campus. This scene frightened everyone, let alone the others, even Matthew, who was on the motorcycle's pillion, was on edge. Then the security guards on bicycles chased after them, scolding as they went. Renly, however, had no intention of stopping. He recklessly zigzagged through, and more security guards joined the pursuit, forming a great mass behind him, resembling a vast cloud of dark sky. Like an inescapable tail, it clung to the back of the motorcycle, agitating the whole campus.
Later, Matthew thought that both he and Renly were doomed and that the dean would surely be furious. But unexpectedly, Renly told the dean that he was sick, had heart problems, and needed to rush to the campus hospital for rest. In his urgency, he rode the motorcycle into the campus. He knew it was a last resort, done out of desperation to save someone.
Matthew could still remember Renly's innocent expression as he said, "Once again, I deeply apologize. I hope the dean allows me to repent in the church and punish me by making me organize books in the library for a month. This will serve as a warning to all students that even when saving someone, you cannot ride a motor vehicle through the campus." The dean stood on the opposite side, smoke practically coming out of his ears, yet he couldn't utter a word.
Of course, there was Matthew himself. Stunned on the spot, he had to use his stifled acting skills to display his "heartache". He felt that the dean had surely seen through them. However, later, the campus doctor confirmed that he did indeed have irregular heart rhythms and needed rest. Even the dean could only grumble.
The image of the dean's stunned appearance at that time appeared in his mind, and Matthew couldn't hold back. The corners of his mouth curled upwards slightly.
The passage of time was a form of torture. Matthew watched everything unfold before his eyes. From intense struggling gradually subsiding into exhaustion, to gathering strength for a final push, followed by the heart-sinking despair – everything was hidden within that tiny coffin, like several tons of gunpowder piled up, ready to explode and reduce everything to ashes.
Matthew had to close his eyes, unable to continue watching. It was truly too cruel. Several times, he nearly couldn't suppress the impulse to step forward and open the coffin lid, ending all the suffering. It was like witnessing a rabbit's death up close. It would be better to end its torment swiftly with a sharp blade, rather than watching it struggle helplessly for its last breath.
But he knew he couldn't.
The passing of time became their torture. He was like this, Jose was like this, and even Martin's family on the other end of the phone was like this. Five hours later, they ultimately couldn't bear it and came to the store in person, witnessing this live torture. But they couldn't hold on for more than thirty minutes. They fled in disarray, refusing to continue staying in the room.
Rodrigo lowered his eyelids with a heart-wrenching reluctance. "Matthew, let's end it. Let's end this absurd experience."
He had arrived here three hours after the experience began, restlessly observing everything. He had thought he would be amazed, enjoy it, contemplate, because this was the real script of "Buried", and their reactions were what they anticipated the audience's response to be after the movie was released. But he couldn't go on.
"I don't care about this movie anymore. Even with Renly's original abilities, he could definitely play this role well. We don't need to continue like this. Let's end it. Let's end this inhuman torture quickly." Rodrigo felt he was on the verge of collapse, and he couldn't even imagine Renly's current state. Such an inhumane imprisonment was even more cruel than murder. "If Renly gets angry, say it's my responsibility. I interrupted this experience. This is just a low-budget independent film. He really doesn't need to go all out like this."
Even as the director, Rodrigo's patience had reached its limit, teetering on the edge of collapse.
Matthew didn't respond immediately. The air was nearly frozen, and even the heartbeat was barely audible. He could hardly sense any movement inside the coffin anymore. He simply imagined the potential outcomes, and his blood turned to ice. He couldn't let his thoughts run wild, not even a bit.
Turning his head, Matthew looked at Rodrigo, who was drenched in sweat and guilt. Matthew smiled, "He didn't do it for your movie."
Rodrigo was stunned. Not for the movie "Buried", then for what?
"Beep, beep..."
The sudden alarm shattered the suffocating panic in the room. Matthew quickly took a step forward but found that his muscles were so stiff from standing that his coordination was off. He almost lost his balance, but he didn't have time to worry about himself. He shouted at Jose, "Open the coffin! Open it now!" His sharp tone was like thunder, instantly snapping everyone out of their trance.
A crowd rushed over, even those in the office outside came in. Matthew had to stop everyone, "Too many people, too many! Four is enough. Four corners, four pry bars. That's enough."
The crowd scurried around, and the four people approached, removing the nails from the four corners. Jose reached out to open the coffin, but his fingers brushed against the wood, and he pulled his hand back as if it was burning. He didn't dare.
Matthew's thighs were completely numb, and his awkward strides made him look disheveled. Nonetheless, he advanced with two steps, tightly gripping the lid. He hesitated for a moment, then, before panic and fear could overwhelm him, he mustered the courage to lift the lid in one breath.
Hollow, it was all hollow. Renly's deep and lively eyes had turned into two empty sockets. They seemed like black holes, absorbing all the light, devouring vitality, and swallowing hope.
Sweat stains covered his head, his pale cheeks devoid of color. His hands had swollen, the fresh blood on his fingertips had dried and congealed. His black T-shirt was completely soaked, and one could clearly see that his chest had no movement, as quiet as a graveyard at midnight.
Fear clenched Matthew's heart, making him feel like he was being torn apart. "Renly? Renly! For Christ's sake! Renly! Wake up, I beg you, wake up!" The endless fear felt like free-falling, without any force to rely on. It struggled desperately in distress, but it was in vain.
"Drink." Suddenly, Renly gasped for air, sitting up as if he was a vampire coming back to life.