Suddenly, I tried to open my eyes—but couldn't.
All I felt was nothing. It was as if I had senses, yet none. A strange awareness with no direction, like I existed without truly being. Weakness coursed through my limbs—if I even had limbs—then silence. My energy vanished in a single instant, and I slipped under again.
Consciousness clawed at me like a starving beast. Every time I tried to think, I could feel life pulled from me in threads. Even fear felt too heavy.
Eventually, I woke up. I don't know how long it had been. I felt hungry, but not the kind of hunger you feed with food. I tried to move, and again—nothing.
What the hell is this?
Where am I?
Why can't I open my eyes? Or move?
Panic began to rise, like a tide I couldn't stop. A suffocating feeling—yet I wasn't actually suffocating. I wanted to breathe, but I couldn't even tell if I was breathing.
Was I alive? Or just imagining it?
"Is anyone there?! Help me…"
And then, blackness again.
Still, I felt something... a presence watching me. How could I even sense that?
"What's happening to me? Why do I keep passing out? Please—help me…"
Days? Weeks? Maybe months passed. I couldn't tell. Everything blurred into a single nightmare. A scream… unconsciousness… emptiness. Again and again.
Despair set in like rot.
"Please... just kill me. Let me out. I don't want to be here anymore."
Time passed. My mind started to unravel. I could feel madness pressing against my sanity, but every time I blacked out, it vanished. Like I was being erased and redrawn again. That became its own form of torture.
Then came the changes. My body—whatever it was—began to grow stronger. I didn't want that. I missed the blackouts. They were the only peace I had.
"I wish I'd never been born... I wish I were dust."
I longed to die. But even that wish was denied.
Why am I alive?
Why am I trapped in this place?
I began to crave unconsciousness. The very thing I once feared had become my salvation.
"Let me die! Skin me alive, tear me apart—just get me out of this cursed, silent prison!"
More time passed. I remained awake. Aware. Stronger.
I kept trying to move—not from hope, but to break the stillness. To remind myself something else existed beyond the dark.
Did I even have a body?
If I did… where did all the waste go?
Then, something shifted. The space around me moved.
"Finally…"
Pressure. Tightness.
I was being squeezed.
"This is it. I'm going to die. It's over."
But no… I wasn't dying.
The place was pushing me. Expelling me.
"Hah! So you're tired of tormenting me, cursed place? Burn. Rot. Be damned."
Then it stopped.
"No! I was joking! Please! Oh sacred space—most holy space in the whole damned universe—just finish this! I don't deserve to stay inside. Just let me out!"
And then… it pushed again. Harder.
My head emerged from… somewhere.
Hands grabbed me. Real hands. They pulled me gently.
Pain?
Yes.
But I welcomed it.
At last—something real.
The air burned my lungs, stung my nose, but it was the most delicious pain I had ever known. I tried to open my eyes. Slowly… they obeyed.
What did I see?
A small straw hut.
A faint fire crackling in the corner, casting soft orange light from beneath a pile of branches.
I inhaled. No scent. Maybe my sense of smell hadn't awakened yet.
But I was…
finally… here.