I was alone—or rather, I had a companion, that just wouldn't go away. Agony.
It hurt. Like boiling magma was coursing through my veins. As if my very soul and being were being burned alive.
Some people say humans can adapt to anything. That eventually, we just get used to it. Loneliness, hunger, exhaustion, even pain. That, in time, it all just becomes routine. Usually, there would be quite a bit of truth in it. In that regard, humans and cockroatches are very alike.
Now, however, I can't help but think that whoever said that, just needs to seriously shut the fuck up.
The pain didn't get any better. It never did. If anything, it only ever got worse.
At times, I felt like I was trapped inside a scalding furnace. Other times, I was so cold that even my thoughts seemed to slow to a crawl.
Sometimes it felt like I was being torn apart—pulled, twisted—or smashed into paste, mincemeat, compressed to my very limits.
My senses kept finding new ways to torment me. Creative fuckers, I must say.
Meanwhile, I could only watch as my whole body eroded away—from the tips of my fingers to the ends of my toes, from the roots of my hair to the rest of me. I was falling apart, in a slow and gruesome process.
All the while, I could almost hear it—an alluring voice, as if whispering, telling me to give up. That I'd done enough. That if I just let go, all the suffering would end.
It was tempting. At times, I almost gave in to its calls.
But a part of me refused—grasping desperately at any shred of reason and sanity that still remained. Even if, I must confess, there weren't many of them left.
It refused to break the promise I had made to myself that day. No matter what, I wouldn't yield. Ever
'Tis but a scratch! A flesh wound! Go on sucker, do your worse!' — I couldn't help thinking. Yeah, maybe something wasn't right in my head, but that wasn't exactly my biggest concern at the moment.
So I persisted, enduring the torment. Slowly, my toes were gone. Then the fingers of my hands. Then my ankles, knees, forearms… followed by my arms, thighs, and finally, my torso and head.
All gone. Yet somehow, I still remained. The agony never left me.
As for what I had become? I had no idea. I only knew that somehow, I still existed—in a state even I couldn't explain. All my senses were gone with my body—or at least, they should have been.
But the pain didn't fade. No, it transcended into something else, something higher. The voice grew louder, its calls more urgent, more deafening, maybe I had already given in to my insanity. Still, I persisted.
Without realizing it, I'd lost track of time. No, that's not right—time itself had already lost all of it's meaning. In my current state, I was unable to even perceive it.
All that mattered was that it hurt—and that I hadn't given up yet. Everything else was irrelevant.
Eventually, I began to regain my senses—or something resembling them. It felt like I could feel my surroundings with my very essence. Even the pain began to fade. I could hear my thoughts again, control whatever was left of me. But I still couldn't see myself. I had no idea what I looked like. I simply couldn't sense it.
Maybe it was all an illusion—a bad dream? Unlikely. I knew the pain had been real. I could say with absolute confidence that my puny imagination could never have conjured something like that.
With renewed senses, I perceived that all around me were shadows. Nothing remained. When I looked upward, there were only more shadows—a phantasmal, harrowing sight, straight out of a Lovecraftian nightmare or an SCP report gone wrong.
The sun, the moon, even the stars—gone. Swallowed whole by the darkness.
But now, I could feel it. The shadows—they were alive. Not in the way living beings are, though. My gut told me they were something more. Something greater.
They devoured, consuming everything to create more of themselves. There was intent behind their movement—a consciousness. Now, with everything tainted in their colors, I could feel it emanating joy. A sick, giddy happiness.
Then, everything changed.
The world—or whatever was left of it—came to a halt. The shadows began contracting.
It was a slow process, one I couldn't measure. But eventually, they gathered into a single mass, a massive black sphere—countless times greater than the sun that once hung in the sky.
Was I about to witness the Big Bang? Maybe.
Guess I'd find out if I just kept watching. Not like there's anything else I can do.
So I waited—or floated, or whatever the hell this was—for what could've been eternity, or maybe a single instant. The shadows shrank from an immeasurable size to that of the sun, then the moon, until finally they were barely the size of a person.
Then they vanished.
In their place, there was a hole in reality. Nothing more. Just emptiness. I had no idea what to do.
Just as I started wondering what would become of me, I heard the voice again—the same one from ages ago.
This time, though, it was different. I could feel it. The intent behind it had changed.
Something had turned its gaze toward me. What it saw, I can't say, but it seemed... pleased.
It urged me to jump into the hole. It spoke in a language I'd never heard before, not with words, neither with sound, yet I understood it perfectly—as if it was speaking directly into my mind, communicating through pure intent.
It said it could save me from this state. Show me a new world—a better one than the one I'd just watched vanish. And my gut told me it wasn't lying.
Looking around at the void that remained, I steeled my thoughts and approached the hole.
Just as I was about to jump in, something appeared behind me.
A speck of light, drawing closer at incredible speed. I thought about dodging, getting out of its way—but my instincts told me not to. So I stood still.
It hit me—but there was no pain. Instead, I felt... refreshed. Energized.
It's a blessing. A final farewell. I felt the voice from the shadows say softly from within, giving me one last push toward the hole.
I believed it.
So, without looking back, I jumped.