I stared at it, but it didn't stare back. The darkness that enveloped me was as heartless as it was dark.
There was no taste, smell, sight, nor sound. Pitch black stretched out in all directions.
I didn't know what I was—or rather, if I was anything. Am I just a floating consciousness? I wondered. No, I was something. I know I was a thing before I 'became' this endless void.
It was like a feeling crawling from the deepest parts of hell, trying to explain my identity to me. But figuring out this turmoil was as hard as feeling anything in this damned void.
I couldn't feel my body, the one I knew was there. It was like a bird with its wings severed, still tormented by the phantom pain of a desperate urge to fly.
Maybe I should be grateful that I still had remnants of emotion left—albeit negative ones. They felt elusive, unclear. Whether it was because they lacked reason or because of the state I was in, I wasn't sure.
Anger, sorrow, fear, hate—and the most painful emotion, loneliness. They were all that kept me tethered to my identity. Or perhaps, they were the only words my mind could hold onto. "Run, lead a purposeful life till the day you become part of my past."
Those words lingered, echoing through my mind. They anchored me to my sanity. I saw myself embracing those words as a child embraces his mother.
Suddenly, confused, I questioned my own example. "Mother?" The term felt close, yet I wasn't sure what it meant. "No, no, it's... I know what it means! So why? Why can't I seem to understand it? No, why can't I remember anything!? I cried out.
Other than the words and emotions I had, there was nothing else to my existence. "I have proof of my existence, yet there is no evidence here in this void," I thought to myself. Which didn't even feel like a thought, but more like a projection of feelings set to represent the words in my mind.
A sigh escaped my mind as I pondered what I could even do here. In this void, there was nothing that could be done—much less lead a purposeful life.
"Life," I stated to myself. Life was as unclear as the word mother. I repeated the word a second time, then a third, hoping to grasp what it meant. Out of nowhere, a clear realization further anchored me to my identity. "I had a life." Outside of this void—or rather, before it—I knew that I had a life, an identity. Despite not having any memories of my previous life, I simply knew that I had one.
I tried moving the body that I knew was supposed to be there, but I wasn't able to feel anything. Not the movement, nor any resistance that should've followed every movement—that at least would've helped me figure out what this void might be. But there was nothing to prove I had a body.
"Run, lead a purposeful life till the day you become part of my past," the words echoed again. Despite not understanding what they meant, they comforted me to have them.
Suddenly, I felt a pair of eyes piercing my very existence, like eyes tearing through the walls of darkness to check up on me. A moment later, they disappeared. Was it the void? Did it stare back at me? Knowing how ridiculous it sounded, I began doubting my sanity.
Frustration grew as my consciousness floated in nothingness. I felt my sanity being questioned with every passing moment—despite not understanding the passage of time in this place.
I grew restless as all meaning to my existence slipped away into oblivion. I tried letting out a scream, hoping that anything would be reflected in this void. When no sound nor ripple echoed through it, I felt like I was drowning in an endless ocean of despair.
"This void, is it just a testament to my sanity?"
Frustration swelled with the questions that rose—questions regarding what I was or who I was. "Did I die?" I thought to myself, perhaps hoping the void would care to confirm that.
A few thoughts passed by, trying to answer the questions. However, with every answer, more questions arose.
After a while of questioning my state, whatever structure held my thoughts together felt heavy. Thoughts grew cloudy and senseless. It felt like a second dark veil covered my mind. There was nothing I could do other than float here as my very thoughts grew cloudy, then dark.
Out of nowhere, a sensation rammed my consciousness awake.
It was sudden, but refreshing. After spending what seemed like forever in nothingness, I finally had something I could feel.
The sensation was the feeling of my finger.
After what seemed like an eternity, I was able to sense a single finger. Despite how insignificant it may seem, after having my entire sanity toyed with by this void, it felt like true bliss.
I kept wiggling my finger, perhaps hoping to strengthen my connection, my awareness of where my body might be. Which didn't seem to do anything. Instead of strengthening any connection to other parts of my body, I was able to feel what my finger was touching—a smooth, warm fabric.
I wandered around, trying to see if it could help me remember any of my previous memories, but to no avail. My past memories were like a distant star I could never hope to reach.
After a while, I was surprised to start feeling my eyelids. I could open and close them, but all I could see were white and black flashes. There were no colors, no clarity to my vision.
Despite that, hope sprouted in my chest. However, as soon as I felt the warmth of hope reach my chest, it shuddered for a moment. In that instant, I wished I was turned to dust. My chest burned, as if molten iron was being poured into my lungs. The heat pulsed and spread throughout my chest.
After a while, my fingers felt like they were being dipped in acid—like the skin was being torn apart in the most heinous way, only to be rebuilt and torn again.
I tried to cry for help, pleading for death to yank my soul away from this hellish pain. But it was all to no avail.
The pain was gruesome. My consciousness flared in and out. The pain kept tearing my mind apart, but the luxury of expressing my pain wasn't available to help me deal with the lava pouring inside me.
It felt like my brain was being burned from the inside out. Internal screams spread across all my thoughts. However, the void showed no effects by the torment slowly, but surely, tearing my sanity apart.
I cried, begged, and pleaded for help. Whatever could happen needed to happen now. I knew, as a fact, that nothing could ever be more painful than what was happening right now. I tried moving around, tried to extinguish my lungs with my mind like some sort of magician, but tears left my eyelids as every attempt was futile.
It felt like an eternity had passed. I wasn't aware of how long I had been in this hell.
"Hell?" I questioned. "What hell? I'm just floating in this… this void? No, just no. There's something else. Something else happened. I was reminiscing about the negative emotions..." I remembered. "And then... yeah, those words. But then something else happened, I got tired and fell asleep. And then woke up."
Yet there was still something missing. "What was I calling hell?" I huffed, which then clicked in place. "It's that hellish pain." I remembered. But I couldn't feel it anymore.
Whether I had lost sanity or the burning sensation was now at ease, was a question I couldn't answer. "Am I in hell? Is it attempting to make me question my own sanity, in order to break me that way? Or am I already insane? Did I actually lose sanity already? But what would even happen now? What's the purpose of it all? Why? In the end, I would've been broken whether I had any or none." I cried out, then laughed at myself for how pathetic my state was. Then I screamed, as desperation did not allow me to give up to this hell.
I didn't want to hope to ever escape this void. It was all to break me and make me suffer. "I'll just break myself and give up instead," I acknowledged. "You can't break something if it's already broken."
Lying in the endless void, I couldn't help but cry. I waited and waited... but nothing happened.
Yet I was still afraid.
I tried reaching for my finger, hoping that I still could move it after enduring hell. However, another sensation followed my finger. It was my hand. Surprised, I tried moving it, and so my hand grasped a tug of the fabric below me. My chest tightened and a howl escaped my throat.
Sound?! I was able to hear something!
It was only at that moment that I realized two things. One, the pain in my lungs was gone. Instead of a death-like grip around my lungs, there were slow, even breaths. The second realization was that I could hear. I could sense my ears. It was quiet. Wherever I might've been, the silence was deafening. It must've been the reason I hadn't realized it earlier.
I spent a few moments enjoying the peace of mind I was gifted with, getting a good feel for my breath, as well as the sound of it. My breathing was exciting. I lived in this emptiness for a couple thousand thoughts, yet only now did I truly feel alive.
Letting my mind rest for a while, I went back to feeling my body. Then I remembered. "This is hell, right? It's only trying to give me hope... right?" Despite my doubts, I wanted to believe that the suffering was truly over. But I couldn't help myself—I couldn't believe it.
As time passed, more of my body parts regained their senses. My abdomen contracted weakly, my legs twitched as I felt them come back into reach. After every muscle returned, I awaited the hellish torture to start again, but nothing happened. "Is it truly over?" I asked myself, yet there was no answer.
My mind was overwhelmed with bliss. Regaining control over parts of my body was truly intoxicating. I jerked my body a bit and was able to identify that I was lying on a bed. The springiness and softness pressing against my back made it evident.
However, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do next. "Can I really escape this void?" I questioned myself. "Wait... I can feel parts of my body, yet they seem to be on a bed. Is my consciousness merely placed outside of my body, and only now is it breaking free? No... that doesn't make sense. If my consciousness was gone, how could my body survive? But what if it wasn't my consciousness that was sealed?"
It was then that I learned an important lesson... thinking too much was tiring.
After a while, hope began to stir within me—faint, yet persistent.
A slight irritation crept into my neck as light flashed across my eyes in a sudden burst. "Just what is going on?" I thought, but this time the thought didn't feel like a controlled wave of emotions—it felt like a hazy voice, one that my mind perhaps assigned when it heard my howl.
"Wait, that's right, I have a mouth!" After a moment of thoughts, I tried to release a sound. "Aeeh... eugh... haeg..." My voice came out like the first words of a child—except it had a lower tone. It felt like I knew how to speak, but I lacked the control needed to form the words I intended.
Shifting my body up, I lifted my hand to my throat and exhaled. What I intended to say was "Hello, is anyone here?"—hoping to test if I had control over my mouth and hoping someone nearby would notice me. But what came out instead was "Heuo... Ayoe hei?" Not only did disappointment grow, but embarrassment as well. It seemed I lacked control over both my tongue and my jaw.
Considering how I regained control over my body bit by bit, I decided to leave my tongue and jaw to come back on their own accord.
After a while, I found myself tempted by the idea of leaving the bed. "What if something like that lava happens again?" I thought to myself, as fear gripped my heart, the memory of the burning sensation still fresh in my mind. "Y'know what? Screw it! I don't care what lies ahead anymore!" I decided.
Shifting my body to the edge of the bed, I waved my hand around. I felt it—the wall. Since my vision had yet to return, I needed to use other methods to move around. Using the wall for guidance seemed like the only option for now.
After realizing that I still couldn't fully move my legs, I decided to sit back down on the bed for a while.
"Yeah, maybe I'll just rest for a bit longer," I accepted happily. "Hey, it's not my fault I'm tired, y'know?"
As my head hit the pillow, a thought crossed my mind. "Who am I talking to?"
Raising my right arm to my head, I placed my hands on the back of my skull.
A scar, I assumed, stretched across the upper part of my neck. That's when it clicked in place. "I've lost my memories after being hit on the head." But then doubts began to rise. "If I did get hit on the head and fell unconscious, shouldn't there at least be someone around to check on me? Does that mean I haven't spent much time here?" Remembering the pain that had engulfed me in my chest, the suffering that followed, made me doubt it all. My chest grew tighter as I realized I was holding my breath. I couldn't accept the fact that all the suffering I'd been through had lasted mere moments.
I considered checking my clothes, but wasn't sure how it could help, especially since I was still blind. However, whatever I was wearing felt stiff.
My legs shivered as they regained their senses. "About damn time," I thought to myself. Jumping to my feet felt refreshing, but my body still felt a bit heavy. A moment later, I was standing. "Well, at least my body isn't trying to fool me," I relaxed.
Sweeping my arm around, I felt the wall. Then I began taking short steps. After the tenth step, my head hit the wall. Annoyance radiated from my chest. I hoped no one was around to witness that.
I turned left and continued to follow the wall until my hand found the frame of a door. I began feeling around for the handle. "This definitely would've looked weird if anyone was watching," I acknowledged.
It took a while, but I finally found the handle. After attempting to twist it, the door wouldn't budge. "Just why is this crap closed now?!" I shouted. But the sound that came out was more like moans than words—fuel to my growing frustration.
I lifted my leg and kicked the door with all my strength. The door flew open, despite my still-weak legs.
Seeing my success, I puffed my chest in victory.
Stepping out of the room caused a simple sting at the back of my head, where the scar should've been. Then a numbing feeling spread from my left arm as it woke up, needing only a bit of movement to get the blood flowing.
Turning around, I decided to use my left arm a little more, then placed my hand on the left wall to continue my exploration. The wall had a paper-like texture—it felt smooth and flawless. This made me question what kind of place I was in. A house? A hospital? As I continued through the long hallway, I considered the latter.
When my hand finally reached the end of the wall, I waved it around to find the path continuing to the left.
Gripping the wall again, I took a step forward—but my foot failed to land on solid ground. My feet were pulled down before I could react. My entire body followed.