Screams. Loud, desperate cries filled the air.
Something hot and heavy pressed against my body, pinning me down. My skin burned as if flames were licking at my flesh, the heat so intense that even breathing felt like inhaling molten iron. Every breath seared my throat, every movement sent waves of unbearable agony through my body.
But nothing—nothing—compared to the pain in my head.
It was as if a red-hot blade was slowly scraping against my skull, carving into my mind, only to be doused in ice before the torture started all over again. I wanted to scream, to cry out, but my voice refused to come. My throat was too dry, the air too thick with heat, stealing even my tears before they could fall.
I couldn't move. I couldn't even struggle.
Then, suddenly—the weight pressing down on me lifted.
Muffled voices, distant yet urgent, wove through the chaos. I couldn't make out the words, only the frantic tone behind them. The moment I felt myself being lifted, a fresh jolt of pain shot through my body. My limbs convulsed, white-hot agony bursting in every nerve.
What… happened?
Was there a fire? An explosion? My thoughts spiraled, but before I could grasp any answers, the suffering reached its peak. My body couldn't take it anymore—and everything went black.
Darkness. A void of silence.
Then—awareness returned.
My mind stirred, clawing its way out of unconsciousness. The memory of pain still clung to me like a fever dream. It was unbearable… inhuman.
I gasped. My eyes fluttered open—or tried to. My eyelids felt like they were sealed shut, resisting every attempt to lift them.
Frustrated, I shifted my body—only to feel myself slide off something soft and slam against cold, hard ground.
Crack.
A sickening noise shot through my skull as I hit the floor. Pain flared once again, not as excruciating as before, but still enough to steal my breath away. My body convulsed, but no sound escaped my lips.
I could barely move.
A new sensation—I was being lifted again. Firm hands gripped me, hoisting me up from the ground. Voices surrounded me, their murmurs no longer distant but still incomprehensible.
Confusion swirled through my mind, fighting against the lingering haze of agony.
Where am I?
What happened?
Why does it feel like I've been reborn in hell?
As these thoughts scraped at my mind like rusted blades, my mouth was suddenly forced open.
Something thick and bitter slid down my throat.
I tried to resist, but my body betrayed me. My arms wouldn't move. My voice wouldn't come out. Before I could even register what had happened, a heavy drowsiness swallowed me whole.
And once again—
Darkness.
How long had it been?
Time had lost all meaning.
The pain had dulled to a faint ache, a cruel reminder that I was still alive. My hearing had recovered significantly, but the voices around me remained indecipherable, like whispers carried by the wind.
Sometimes, they commanded with authority. Other times, a hand would gently grasp mine, a soft voice speaking words I couldn't understand—words filled with concern.
But no one had come to visit me.
No one who truly knew me.
I was alone.
Alone in a vast, unfamiliar world.
Just like before.
I had lost my parents in a car accident when I was fifteen. From that moment on, I had learned one thing—no one was coming to save me.
Now, after nearly forty years, I was once again drowning in this same suffocating loneliness.
I wanted to cry, to curse, to demand an answer from whatever god had thrown me into this nightmare.
But there was no one to listen.
The silence stretched endlessly, broken only by my own thoughts—thoughts that had begun to turn against me.
I had spent my life drowning them out with work, books, distractions. Anything to keep my mind from spiraling.
But here? Here, I had nothing.
No phone. No fiction. No work. No escape.
Just me.
And the slow, creeping madness that slithered into my thoughts like a viper.
Bit by bit, the worst of them sank their fangs into me.
Would it be so bad if I never woke up?
Would anyone even care?
Even if I recovered… then what? The cycle would just repeat. The same meaningless days, the same endless routine.
Work, eat, sleep, repeat.
Was that really a life worth going back to?
I didn't know anymore.
And maybe… I was too much of a coward to make that decision myself.
So I just lay there, waiting.
Waiting for time to pass.
Waiting for whatever fate had in store for me.
****
A chilling silence filled the void as a shadow loomed, watching a man who was slowly crumbling with each passing moment. His screams and cries echoed in the emptiness, yet his suffering seemed endless.
Time dragged on, and the once-desperate man grew eerily still. It was as if his will to live had been stripped away, leaving only a hollow shell. His eyes, once filled with emotion, now stared blankly ahead—lifeless. His once-clear figure was fading, growing bleak, as a dark, foreboding presence crept into the dreamscape, unseen by the man.
Sensing the entity's approach, the shadow stirred. It moved toward the man, its voice carrying a quiet murmur:
"So this is what you've chosen..."
It waited, as if expecting a response. None came.
A sharp exhale followed before the shadow scoffed, its voice tinged with disappointment.
"Pathetic. A grown man, reduced to this? I'd rather not witness such weakness again."
Yet, no reaction. No flicker of life.
The man remained motionless, his presence dimming further, swallowed by the abyss.
"It was lonely, wasn't it?" the shadow mused. "Lifeless. Colorless. Empty. At first, I was confused, but now... now, I understand what's happening here."
Slowly, the shadow stepped closer, standing over the husk of a man. It peered into his empty eyes, watching them slowly close, as if surrendering to oblivion.
"Now that I know everything about you..." the shadow whispered, reaching forward, fingers pressing against the man's forehead. "You have the right to know about me, too."
For the first time, the man's eyes flickered. And then, they shut.