The moment I opened my eyes, all I saw was emptiness. A void with no end and no beginning. I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them again, but nothing changed.
Then I raised my hand and tried to touch anything, but to no avail. In the end, I gasped, "Where am I?"
Those words had no sound. They did not echo through the air at all, and yet, somehow, I was able to hear them.
Had I lost my sight? No, I could still see what was before me, if only faintly.
Could it be…
Could it be that I was dead?!
No…
I do not want to die!
There are still so many things I want to do.
So many things I want to see.
I cannot die. I have to live!
But…
If I thought about it?
The truth was, I did not have many things worth living for.
I think…?
Anyway… Who am I?
Who am I supposed to be?
No matter how hard I tried, I could not remember. I tried to gather my thoughts, but my mind was drifting in a fog, and like most of my life, it was barely functioning…
Or so I assumed.
I had no clear memories. I had no name. I had no past. I did not know… Who I was, exactly.
I could not even feel the passage of time, yet for some reason, every second felt as though it stretched on forever. It was like a form of endless torment, and that only made me feel more unsettled. There was no sound, yet I could hear it.
There was nothing before me, yet somehow I could see. Then, without any warning, a light appeared out of nothingness.
The light was incredibly intense, so much so that I instinctively closed my eyes and covered them with both hands.
Fortunately, only a few seconds passed. Just as the light had come from nothing, it vanished back into nothing. At that moment, when I opened my eyes again, I found myself inside a room.
A room that looked extremely strange, and extremely neglected as well. I turned around cautiously, examining the place. Beside me was a bookshelf overflowing with old books.
To my right was a small, very worn bed, and in the corner stood an ancient wooden desk covered with several manuscripts, atop which rested a thick leather bound book.
Despite my overwhelming confusion, for some reason a mirror drew my attention. It was massive, with a luxurious Gothic frame carved with strange engravings.
The moment I saw it, I pulled my hand away from the desk, approached the mirror, and stood before it, studying my reflection. I looked at myself in the mirror, yet I could not recognize the face reflected back at me.
Deep crimson eyes, and messy brown hair scattered around my face. I extended my hand and touched the cold surface of the glass. Then I stepped back as my thoughts descended into utter chaos.
Even so, despite my confusion, I reached out and picked up one of the old manuscripts from the desk. I tried to read the words written on it, but the letters themselves were unfamiliar. So I tried to focus and closed my eyes. But all I felt afterward was deep disappointment.
I sighed bitterly and carefully returned the manuscript to its place. Then, with heavy steps, I moved toward the rickety bed in the corner of the room.
I sat down on it, and the wood creaked weakly, as if complaining under my weight. Then I leaned my elbows on my knees and ran my hand over my face in a desperate attempt to pull myself together.
I muttered, "I wish I could understand those manuscripts. Maybe they hold some answers…"
I had barely finished my sentence when a sudden pain overwhelmed me. My chest violently contracted. I gasped, my body arching involuntarily.
My limbs stiffened, my nails digging into the tattered bedding as its roughness scraped against my skin. I tried to scream, but it was useless. Then the world around me began to fade. Little by little, everything disappeared before my eyes.