Silence.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not the peaceful silence of an empty room, nor the stillness of a quiet night. It was an absence of sound so complete that I couldn't even hear myself breathing.
I slowly opened my eyes.
Darkness.
An endless expanse of darkness stretched in every direction.
There was no sky above me, no ground beneath my feet, and no horizon separating one from the other. Yet somehow, I was standing.
For several moments, I remained motionless, trying to understand my surroundings.
Where am I?
I looked around.
Nothing.
I turned in a complete circle, searching for anything that might indicate where I was.
Still nothing.
Had I gone blind?
I raised my hand towards my face.
To my relief, I could see it.
Or at least, something resembling it.
My fingers appeared faintly translucent, their outlines barely distinguishable against the darkness.
I stared at them in confusion.
Then I noticed something else.
I wasn't breathing.
I instinctively tried to inhale, but there was no sensation of air entering my lungs.
I placed a hand against my chest.
No heartbeat.
My stomach tightened.
What… happened to me?
I tried to remember.
I remembered my ordinary life. My home. My parents. The endless routine of work and sleep.
But what happened afterward?
How had I arrived here?
Had I been in an accident?
Had I fallen asleep and somehow begun dreaming?
I couldn't recall anything.
"Hello?"
My voice broke the silence.
At least, I thought it did.
The sound seemed strangely distant, as though it had been swallowed almost immediately after leaving my mouth.
"Is anyone there?"
No response.
I waited.
Then I shouted again.
"HELLO!"
Nothing.
I began walking.
I didn't know where I was going, but remaining still seemed pointless. Perhaps there was an exit somewhere. Perhaps this was simply an unfamiliar place, and I needed to find my way out.
After several minutes, I stopped.
The scenery hadn't changed.
There was no scenery to change.
I turned around, but I couldn't identify the direction I had come from.
A strange uneasiness settled over me.
I began walking again, this time counting my steps.
One.
Two.
Three.
I reached a hundred, then a thousand.
Still nothing.
I continued.
At some point, I stopped counting and began running.
My feet moved beneath me, yet I couldn't feel the ground.
I ran faster.
And faster.
Until I realised something impossible.
I wasn't getting tired.
My breathing hadn't changed because I wasn't breathing in the first place. My muscles didn't ache, and my heart wasn't pounding.
I could run indefinitely.
The realisation made me stop.
I stared into the darkness.
This isn't normal.
I slapped myself.
Nothing.
I pinched my arm.
No pain.
I struck my chest with both fists.
Still nothing.
"Wake up," I muttered.
I slapped myself again.
"Wake up."
Nothing changed.
"WAKE UP!"
My scream vanished into the darkness.
I stood there trembling, though I couldn't tell whether my body was actually shaking or whether I merely remembered what trembling felt like.
Then I began running again.
I don't know how long I ran.
Hours?
Days?
There was no sun to rise or set, no clock to measure the passing of time, and no physical exhaustion to force me to rest.
Eventually, I stopped because I couldn't think of a reason to continue.
I sat down.
Or perhaps I simply lowered myself into a position resembling sitting.
There was no ground beneath me, yet my body remained suspended as though an invisible surface supported it.
I stared ahead.
Maybe someone will come.
The thought was comforting.
Someone had to know where I was.
Someone had to be looking for me.
My parents, perhaps.
My friends.
Surely someone would notice that I was missing.
I waited.
And waited.
Nothing happened.
"Please," I whispered. "Someone…"
My voice faded.
I tried lying down.
I closed my eyes and waited for sleep.
But sleep never came.
I remained conscious, aware of every thought passing through my mind.
After what felt like several hours, I opened my eyes.
The darkness hadn't changed.
I tried again.
Nothing.
I couldn't sleep.
I couldn't feel hunger or thirst.
I couldn't even feel tired.
My body had become something that no longer seemed to require anything.
At first, I thought that might be useful.
Then I realised what it meant.
There was nothing to interrupt my thoughts.
Nothing to distract me.
Nothing to provide even a moment of escape.
I was completely alone with my own consciousness.
Eventually, I began talking to myself.
At first, it was simply a way to pass the time.
I recounted events from my previous life, describing ordinary memories aloud as though I were telling someone a story.
I spoke about my childhood.
My school.
My first job.
The meals my mother used to prepare.
I tried remembering the layout of my home, the sound of traffic outside my window, and the familiar voices of people I had known.
Sometimes I laughed at memories that weren't particularly funny.
Other times, I repeated the same stories several times because I couldn't think of anything new.
I began inventing conversations.
"How was work?"
"Same as always."
"Did you eat?"
"Yeah. Don't worry."
I answered myself in different voices, imagining that someone was sitting beside me.
It was embarrassing.
But there was nobody there to judge me.
And hearing a voice, even my own, was better than hearing nothing.
Then, one day—or what I believed was a day—I realised I couldn't remember the exact sound of my mother's voice.
I froze.
I tried recalling it again.
Her face appeared in my mind.
Or at least, I thought it did.
But the voice…
Something was wrong.
I could remember the words she used to say, yet the sound of her speaking them seemed distant and distorted.
Panic surged through me.
"No. No, I remember."
I began repeating her name.
Then my father's.
I recited their birthdays, the address of our home, and every detail I could remember about our lives together.
I spoke faster, terrified that the memories would disappear if I stopped.
But the harder I tried to remember, the less certain I became.
Had my mother's hair always been that colour?
Was my father's voice really that deep?
Had our kitchen window been on the left or the right?
I couldn't remember.
I screamed.
I screamed until I could no longer form words.
Then I cried.
Or tried to.
There were no tears.
My body wouldn't allow them.
At some point, I began counting again.
Numbers were reliable.
Numbers didn't depend on memory in the same way faces and voices did.
One.
Two.
Three.
I counted to a thousand.
Then ten thousand.
Then higher.
Whenever I lost count, I started over.
It became an obsession.
If I could count, I could measure time.
If I could measure time, I could prove that I still existed.
But eventually, I lost count.
I couldn't remember whether I had reached seventy thousand or seven hundred thousand.
I started again.
Then again.
And again.
The numbers began blending together.
I found myself repeating sequences without understanding them.
One hundred and twenty-three.
One hundred and twenty-four.
One hundred and…
What came next?
I knew the answer.
Of course I knew the answer.
Yet for a terrifying moment, my mind refused to provide it.
I pressed my hands against my head.
"Think!"
My voice sounded unfamiliar.
"Just think!"
I began laughing.
It was a horrible sound.
I couldn't remember what I found funny.
The first time I saw someone, I nearly lost my mind.
A silhouette appeared in the distance.
It was faint, barely distinguishable against the darkness, but unmistakably human.
I stared.
Then I ran.
"WAIT!"
The figure didn't respond.
"PLEASE! DON'T GO!"
I ran faster than I ever had before.
The silhouette remained just beyond my reach.
No matter how quickly I moved, the distance between us never seemed to shrink.
I shouted until my voice became meaningless noise.
Then the figure disappeared.
I stopped.
For a long time, I stared at the place where it had stood.
"Come back."
Nothing.
"Please…"
I sank to my knees.
I don't know how long I remained there.
After that, I began seeing things more frequently.
Shapes moving at the edges of my vision.
Figures standing just beyond my reach.
Sometimes I heard footsteps.
Sometimes laughter.
Once, I heard someone call my name.
I turned so quickly that I almost fell.
"Who is it?"
No response.
I ran towards the sound.
Nothing.
Eventually, I stopped trusting my senses.
Whenever I saw a figure, I closed my eyes.
Whenever I heard a voice, I covered my ears.
But even that didn't help.
Because the voices began coming from somewhere inside my mind.
They're not coming.
I shook my head.
They've forgotten you.
"Shut up."
How long do you think it's been?
"Shut up!"
They're probably dead by now.
"SHUT UP!"
I struck my head with both fists.
There was no pain.
The voices continued.
I begged.
I don't know who I was begging.
God.
The universe.
Anyone who might have been listening.
I promised that I would change.
That I would stop wasting my life.
That I would appreciate every moment I had been given.
I promised to become a better person, to pursue my dreams, and to cherish the people I had taken for granted.
"Just let me go home."
My voice trembled.
"Please."
There was no response.
Eventually, I stopped asking to return home.
I simply asked for it to end.
I wanted to sleep.
I wanted to lose consciousness.
I wanted anything that would interrupt the endless procession of thoughts.
But nothing worked.
I couldn't sleep.
I couldn't starve.
I couldn't die.
And I couldn't escape.
The possibility that I might remain there forever slowly became the only thing I could think about.
Forever.
An eternity without sound, sensation, or companionship.
An eternity in which every memory would eventually fade.
I had once feared death because I didn't know what came afterward.
Now I feared something far worse.
The possibility that there would never be an afterward.
I don't remember when I stopped screaming.
Perhaps I had simply exhausted every word I knew.
I no longer walked or ran.
I no longer counted.
I no longer searched for an exit.
I remained motionless in the darkness, staring into an emptiness that had become indistinguishable from my own thoughts.
Memories surfaced occasionally.
A room.
A face.
The taste of something sweet.
A woman's laughter.
I tried holding on to them, but they disappeared before I could understand what they meant.
There had been a time when I possessed a name.
I was certain of that.
Everyone had names.
Didn't they?
I tried remembering mine.
Nothing came.
I wondered whether I had ever been alive.
Perhaps the memories were dreams.
Perhaps I had always existed in this place.
Perhaps there had never been anything else.
Eventually, even those questions lost their meaning.
There was only darkness.
And something within it that continued to think.
"How peculiar."
A voice.
I didn't react.
I had heard voices before.
They always disappeared.
"You have endured longer than I expected."
The voice sounded different from the others.
Clearer.
Closer.
A faint light appeared before me.
I stared at it without understanding what I was seeing.
Within the light stood a figure.
Its appearance was difficult to distinguish. I could perceive its outline, but whenever I tried to focus on its features, they seemed to shift beyond my comprehension.
The figure remained silent for a moment.
Then it approached.
"Can you hear me, little soul?"
I didn't respond.
I couldn't remember how.
The figure tilted its head.
"Interesting. Your consciousness remains intact, yet your sense of self has deteriorated considerably."
I stared.
Its words meant nothing.
"Tell me," it continued. "Do you still wish to live?"
Live.
The word stirred something deep within me.
An image appeared.
Sunlight.
A table.
People sitting together.
Someone smiling.
Then the image vanished.
I tried reaching for it, but I couldn't remember what I had seen.
The figure watched me.
For the first time, its presence seemed uncertain.
"How unfortunate."
It raised one hand, and the surrounding darkness trembled.
"It seems I may have waited too long