How Far?

As she drifted back into the memories she tried so hard to bury, Ahmi could almost feel it all over again—that crushing weight, the suffocating pressure of being broken down into smaller pieces. 

Her world hadn't just fallen apart; it had imploded, leaving nothing but ruins and the echo of a girl who once had hope.

No one came. Not then. Not before. Not ever.

She was dead, alright—not in body, but in spirit. And what a miserable thing it was to die alone, carrying nothing with her but a festering ache and the hollow throb of hatred.

She had yearned—desperately—for something to pull her up. A hand. A voice. A reason. Anything that could've reminded her she was still worth saving. But nothing came. No one was there. And the more she searched, the more the void swallowed her, dragging her deeper into a place she couldn't crawl out of.

Reality had betrayed her. It wasn't the harsh truth that hurt most—it was how quietly it had abandoned her.

Then, came the darkness.

It didn't even bother pretending to be a friend. It was patient, wrapping around her like smoke, whispering promises in a voice that sounded just like her own. It reached for her while she shrank back, terrified at first. But when fear becomes routine, you stop trembling. You stop hoping. You numb yourself, brick by brick, until nothing touches you anymore.

The shrill sound of distant suffering pierced through her ears, sharp and merciless. Cold hands dragged her deeper into that unending spiral as she scrambled back, away from death's laughter, only to find herself cradling misery like it belonged to her.

She wasn't fighting anymore. Just fading. Just…deteriorating. Until only her pounding temples reminded her she still had a head, still had thoughts—thoughts filled with everything she'd lost and everything she could never reclaim.

'Was this all that was left of me?'

And then she heard a light knocking on concrete and the painfully slow beating of her heart.

Light suddenly came closer at the same time her eyes went wide open, a gasp escaping her parched mouth.

"Help."

It was the only word she could say with her hoarse voice. The weight on her was crushing her ribcage, making it hard to breathe.

Gazing at the stars, Ahmi was met with specs of dust circulating the air, the borrowed light of the moon making it look like promising sparkles that provided tranquility amidst the chaos. As the wind decided to answer her with a caress, she started to look around her.

'Huh?'

No one else's body was in the rubble—only hers. From the way the building collapsed, maybe she was just lucky enough to end up near the surface.

Ahmi's teeth chattered as fear gnawed at her. She couldn't accept being the only one who survived. Maybe others were still trapped. Maybe they were dying right now.

She just couldn't be the only one left.

Suddenly, the ground trembled. Heavy footsteps thudded nearby. She didn't move—curled up, still, like a corpse forgotten in the dark.

"Over there," said a man's voice—low, sharp, unfamiliar. The words felt wrong, twisted in a language she'd never heard before.

Her heart stopped.

It wasn't just foreign. It was otherworldly.

And yet…she understood every word, as if she'd known it all along—had read and spoken it like she'd been hearing it ever since she was a child.

A chill snaked down her spine.

Ahmi slowly turned her head toward the voice, just in time to see a man seated on a horse, cloaked in strange, heavy fabric that looked nothing like anything she'd ever seen. He nodded to someone beside him—another figure she hadn't even noticed until now, half-shadowed and just as unnerving.

"He couldn't have gone that far," the other replied.

Her heart leapt.

'Wait a minute. I must be hallucinating.'

They had to be rescuers—right? But rescuers didn't speak in strange tongues. And they definitely didn't wear cloaks or ride horses.

Still, she clung to that fragile hope, desperate to believe these people had come to pull survivors from the wreckage. Maybe—just maybe—her nightmare was finally ending.

Let me know if you want to push the doubt or dread further.

Was help finally coming? She thought with a hint of misery.

"We don't know that," the other replied as he pulled his cloak over his face.

After a satisfactory inspection, Ahmi held her breath, her attention never leaving these men. Something about them just didn't sit right with her.

"That man has been locked up in some basement for years. There's no way he knows anything about the outside world. Trust me."

"Fuck that! He's a monster. How the hell do we even know he's got any ways? He doesn't have shit, man!"

The man who seemed to oversee the search yanked his reins and drove straight down the path while Ahmi lay still, pretending to be a corpse buried beneath heaps of heavy wreckage that already felt like they were suffocating her.

Weary, she watched as they urged their horses to navigate the ruins with urgency, her gaze fixed on every move they made.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she didn't realize how much her heart was sinking. The place that had once buzzed with life was now nothing more than rubble—on the verge of being erased from memory.

Pieces of furniture were covered in ash from the ruined cement, and shattered glassware was all over the now empty space. A vast portion of the stage lights from the ceiling ended up on the floor, liquor from the shelves routing on the crack on the now broken tiles.

A few feet away, the men wore puzzled expressions, their shoulders tense, eyes sharp and wary—as if unsure what they might find tonight. One of them picked up a broken light, inspecting it under the moon's pale glow, his face creased with confusion.

Cold sweat traced down Ahmi's forehead. The lump in her throat tightened.

Something wasn't right.

Beyond their strange clothing, a persistent, nagging feeling gnawed at her mind—nothing about this made sense.

They were supposed to be well-prepared rescue workers. Instead, they looked like medieval knights patrolling an ancient battlefield, not searching for survivors. Ahmi's fragile hope faltered as she took in their cloaks, their horses, the absence of modern gear. A surreal unease settled over her, shrouding the scene in doubt.

The cloaked men moved through the trees with calculated steps, and pain surged through Ahmi's chest, making each breath a struggle.

"What do you think?" one asked, motioning with his hand. "How far could he have gone?"

"He isn't far," the other answered. "He's hiding close."

Then, she heard a low chuckle. 

And it was right next to her. 

"He deserves credit for getting it right."

Ahmi's heart jumped. She slowly turned her head toward the voice—and froze.