Buried in Guilt

The sun is high up in the sky. I wiped the sweat off my brow, shifting the weight of the ore sack on my shoulder. Business had been good today. The islanders traded fairly, and the trip had been worth it.

As I was packing up, a man approached me. His face was lined with age, but the exhaustion in his eyes ran deeper.

"You're the miner, right?"

I nodded. He picked up an ore and inspected it.

"How much is this?" He said, his voice hollow and detached.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

His gaze wavered, like he was debating whether to speak. Then, finally—

"My son was killed by wolves."

I stayed silent, letting him continue.

"He wanted to prove himself," the man said. His voice was steady, but his clenched fists betrayed him. "I told him it was time for him to become a full-fledged hunter. He hesitated, but I told him there was no choice. That our people wouldn't respect him if he backed down."

His grip tightened. "If I hadn't pushed him… if I had just let him wait—"

He stopped, shaking his head. "No. There's no point in 'if.' He's dead."

Something in my chest tightened.

"There's no point in 'if.'"

The words echoed in my mind, overlapping with another voice—my own.

Three years ago. A collapsed tunnel. A boy, trapped behind fallen stone.

"Uncle Miguel! Help me!"

I had told him it was safe. I had promised him. I had been wrong.

"My nephew died in a cave-in," I admitted.

My voice came out hollow, as if the words had been buried for too long.

"He followed me into the mines. I told him nothing would happen. That I'd protect him." I exhaled shakily.

"I failed."

The man closed his eyes. "You pushed him into it too, didn't you?"

I let out a bitter chuckle. "I did. And I thought I was doing the right thing."

He didn't answer. Neither did I.

We simply stood there, two men bound by the same guilt, trapped in a cycle of 'what ifs' and regrets.

Eventually, the man sighed. "Well… what now?"

I exhaled. "We live with it."

His lips twitched into a sad smile. "That's the hard part, isn't it?"

I nodded. It was.

Days passed. I returned to the mainland, and the work continued. The mines waited for no one. We were deep in the tunnels when the first tremor came. The ground shuddered, dust raining from above.

"CAVE-IN!" someone yelled.

The wooden supports snapped. The ceiling cracked. Panic spread like wildfire. Miners scrambled for the exit.

I moved without thinking. A younger worker tripped—my hand shot out, dragging him forward. Another one stumbled. I shoved him ahead. I kept pushing them forward, making sure they all made it out.

Then, the final crash came. Trapping me inside.

I coughed, dust thick in my lungs. My legs were pinned under the rubble. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of earth and iron.

I tried to move, but the weight was too much. I was alone. No one would come back for me. I had made sure of that.

Thirst came first, then hunger. My body ached, but my mind wandered.

Was this how my nephew had felt?Had he called for me, hoping I would come?

I let out a weak laugh. "Guess I finally kept my promise."

Darkness crept in. I let it take me. Then— A white room. Enclosed. Silent.

'Is this the afterlife?' I thought.

I scanned the room and saw them—four men in white long sleeves.

*Sigh*

Someone exhaled. I turned to where the sound came from. It was one of the men. He seemed confused, surprised even.

"Who are you?" he asked.