Into The Abyss

The reflections brought by the foggy mirror revealed a man. His curly dark-brown hair and tan skin framed his golden-brown eyes, lending an ethereal beauty to his appearance. His pupils were slightly dilated, a subtle sign of pain, though his radiant smile, with its even teeth, managed to mask much of it.

After taking my pills for the pain, I knew that even if I could hide the discomfort with a smile, the truth of it lingered within my eyes.

Wiping the fog away, I examined my face, ensuring it was clean and presentable for the long day ahead. My morning routine was quicker than usual this time; I hoped it would be enough to catch the train. The lake house was west of the city, requiring both a train ride and a taxi.

If only my car were fixed, the journey would have been simpler, but it seemed I'd have to wait longer than I'd like.

My naked body needed fresh clothes. Eyeing the outfit laid out on my bed, I decided on a light leather jacket, a white short-sleeve shirt, black jeans, and dark brown boots.

Stepping out of my apartment, the sky was still dark and overcast with heavy clouds. It seemed a storm was brewing. Checking the weather app on my phone, I confirmed my suspicion: a light storm was on its way, though it would pass soon enough.

Walking down the paved streets, the city of New York buzzed with life. Cars zipped by, their headlights piercing through the dim morning light.

The city never truly rests, I thought.

Further along, the remnants of recent protests against the war in the East were evident. My neighborhood, like many others, bore the marks of dissent: red spray-painted slogans lingered stubbornly on walls and sidewalks, a vivid reminder of unrest.

The walk to the train felt odd. For the first time, I felt a cold sensation, as though my body were naked. This feeling, I knew, also came from the jabbing pain in my stomach.

Should I not go? I wondered, walking a little slower toward the train station. No, I can't. Even if the pain was growing, I believed it would go away.

SSSH.

The sound of the train doors opening broke my thoughts. There were more than a dozen passengers boarding, while others—women, children, old men—filtered out onto the platform.

Sitting down on the train, I got a good look around me. More and more people boarded, and soon the morning crowd had settled.

The feeling of so many people around me felt uncomfortable. Not only was the pain in my stomach growing, but it had also spread to my chest.

A burning sensation intensified within me, and I tried to distract myself by observing my surroundings.

In front of me, two men stood holding onto the train's overhead bars. To my left, a young woman, no older than twenty, was seated. Something about her reminded me of my mother her blonde hair, blue eyes, and the gentle smile she wore.

I looked away, but then I looked back again. She gave me a sweet smile, her eyes sparkling as if they were part of the smile itself. It was... cute.

On my right was a man shrouded in a dark hood. His face was obscured, hidden beneath the hood of a black jacket. Everything about him was dark—his clothes, his demeanor. His hands gripped the train bar tightly as his head shifted between glances at the woman and the train door.

There was still more than a minute until the train doors closed.

I moved on, shifting my gaze to the man on my left. He was old, his face worn with the kind of lines that tell a life lived deeply. He wore a suit with a flat black-and-blue hat, the colors complementing each other perfectly.

But the pain in my chest only grew stronger, sharp and unrelenting. My attention drifted back to the blonde woman. Her eyes were still locked on me, her smile unchanged. She hadn't stopped looking at me the entire time.

I closed my eyes, hoping to avoid looking like a creep and wishing that the pain might subside, that everything would return to normal.

Then I felt it—my heart pounding like a frenzied machine. Pump, pump, pump. The rhythm quickened, each beat more intense than the last.

That's when I realized I had been holding my breath.

I opened my eyes again, and in that flicker of a second, time seemed to slow down. Everything around me felt sluggish, almost surreal.

I saw the dark-hooded man reach into his pocket. Emerging from his hand was a knife, the blade sharp and gleaming. Its aura seemed to radiate something ominous, something that whispered of death.

Without thinking, my body reacted. My feet moved instinctively, leaping toward the man. His right hand held the blade toward the young woman, while his left shoved the old man beside him.

My hands reached out to the man, desperate to stop him. I gripped his back, but his strength was greater. His left hand lunged for the purse of the blonde woman, who let out a piercing scream.

"Stop!" I shouted, my voice trembling as I tried to call out to him.

Time slowed down once more, but I couldn't control it, only my eyes seemed to register its fleeting flow. The sensation clawed at my chest, leaving me powerless.

He turned quickly, his body spinning to face me. His eyes, dark, hollow, and devoid of life, locked onto mine. They were filled with a silent promise of demise and laced with the raw essence of fear. In those eyes, I saw only bleakness and sin.

Then the blade came. It reached for my chest, and I saw it, clear and vivid, the moment when your life flashes before your eyes. The moment you know there is no tomorrow, no escape, no second chance.

The blade plunged into me. My body fell back, hitting the cold, unyielding floor of the train. The pain was sharp, yet my thoughts swirled in denial. How could this be? How could this happen? I tried. I had so much more to do in this world.

"I can't die," I whispered, clinging to the words as though they could anchor me to life.

Around me, the old man and the blonde woman hovered, their faces painted with panic and grief. Others chased after the dark-hooded man, their footsteps echoing in the chaos.

Rain, is that rain? I thought, my mind hazy. My eyes drifted toward the woman. Her face blurred, but I saw her tears falling, mingling with the blood that stained her hands, my blood. The lights of the train shimmered like rain through the veil of my wet eyes.

"I can't die," I murmured again, over and over.

I needed to see her one last time, I needed to visit my mother. I had forgotten to clean her grave. I hadn't placed flowers for her. I had forgotten.

"I can't die. I can't die." The words spilled from me like a mantra, tears streaming down my face.

The light of the world began to blur. As I lay on the train's cold floor, the world seemed to melt away into a glowing haze. I felt both free and lost, as if floating on the edge of existence. This is the end.

Will I really die here? Lost in time and regret?

I yearned to make amends, to seek more, but deep down, I knew this was it. Life could slip away so quickly, it was a cruel truth. I wondered, Why? Why me? Why now?

In the depths of the unknown, I saw it all, the beginning and the end.

I saw my mother, her golden hair shimmering like sunlight. Her smile warmed my heart and soothed my spirit, even in this moment of despair.

The light quickened, and memories of my past flooded in like waves. I saw my best friend, the boy next door, whose strength and resolve had once inspired my own.

I saw her, my first love. She had moved me like gravity itself, pulling me toward her with a force I couldn't understand. She had shown me who I was, yet I wondered who I would have been without her. Without Aurora.

Behind her stood my present love. She looked at me with regret and remorse, her gaze heavy with unspoken words. Then, she turned away, leaving me to struggle alone. But her voice lingered, faint yet piercing...

"Have you truly loved me all this time, or was it just for you to find freedom in your sadness?"

I had so many regrets, so much I had left undone. The weight of the unknown, of what might have been, pressed on me like a dark tide.

Then the light stopped, and darkness came, swaying over the world like a heavy curtain, pulling everything into its somber embrace.