Thud!
The young man's body crashed onto the floor as if his bones were all broken. His arms and legs were broken in odd ways. His breathing was weak, and his skin was bruised and bleeding.
"Next time, you better behave well, or I will smack you into pieces and feed you to the dogs!" The guard spat before leaving, his voice threatening.
Clang!
The cell door closed with a loud bang that made the walls shake.
And then, everything turns to silence.
No more mocking voices, no more brutal tortures. It just silence.
The young man lay still on the cold floor, just staring into space. Every part of his body hurt, but he couldn't find the strength to cry out. He could only groan quietly to avoid drawing attention.
His mouth tasted like metal. His body was covered in sweat, blood, and dirt.
He didn't cry. He didn't curse. He didn't even move.
He just lay there, hurt and barely breathing, like a puppet with its strings cut.
His mind was empty and numb. It was not just from the pain, but from everything he had been through the day.
He felt confused, scared… And a strange sense of novelty, like all of this pain and suffering were happening to him for the first time.
His breaths were short and shaky. Every time he tried to move his fingers, he felt a sharp pain running through his body.
Is this what being alive means…?
He couldn't remember anything, not his name, not his past, not even a single face or place. But something inside kept telling him that this wasn't normal for him.
He didn't belong here. This wasn't him.
However, at the same time, he had no proof to prove it either.
If this isn't me, than what am I…?
The question came up again. It was echoing in his mind like an annoying mosquito. No matter how hard he tried to shake it off, it never left him.
Time passed. Minutes. Maybe hours. It was impossible to tell in the dark anyway.
The only thing that helped him keep track of time was the sound of water dripping from the leaking roof. Each drop reminded him that he was still alive.
Eventually, for a moment, his hand slightly twitched.
Then again.
With great effort, he moved his hand, sliding it across the cold, wet floor beneath him. Each scrape was very painful, like it was tearing off his skin, but it also meant that he could finally move his body.
The young man clenched his teeth and forced his arm to move next. Although he was trembling, he was able to lift himself up and turn onto the other side.
He let out a sudden gasp as his ribs ached, yet he didn't collapse and managed to stand on his feets.
"Damn... It hurts..." The young man muttered, his voice barely loud enough to be heard.
He struggled to keep his balance as his legs shook uncontrollably, yet he somehow managed to remain on his feet.
Slowly, he turned his head to look around the cell for the first time.
The room was small, just enough space for two person to lie down. The walls were made of stone and wet with moss and dirt. There were cracks all over the surface, and in some spots, there are even a blood pool.
The only light came from a small metal window near the ceiling, casting a faint light on the dirty floor. In one corner, there are rats chewing pieces of old rags and rotten food.
There was no bed nor blanket. Nothing but darkness and the smell of rusty metal.
The young man leaned against the wall for support, trying not to fall. His breaths were shallow and painful as his lungs were badly damaged.
In the dim light from the small window, he saw his reflection in a puddle near his feet.
"…Who the hell is this?" He muttered.
The reflection in the puddle was so battered that it barely looked like a human face. The left eye was heavily swollen while the right eye was slightly better, but it still looked pretty dull and lifeless. His skin was pale and covered with dried blood.
In the low light, his hair looked almost black, but it actually was a dark red color. It was wet and messy, sticking to his face like tangled strands.
His lips were cracked with dried blood running down from the corner of his mouth, while his jaw had a large bruise, and there were multiple cuts on his cheeks and forehead.
The shirt he wore was no more than tattered scraps, barely holding together. His pants were no better, it torn at the knees and covered with dried blood and dirt.
To be honest, the young man looks like he just crawled out of a grave.
He stared at his reflection for a moment before his eyes started to tremble.
"…Is this me…?" He whispered in a shaky voice.
He slowly lowered himself to the ground and reached out to touch his reflection in the puddle.
"I don't know this face nor this body…"
As soon as he touched the water, the reflection got wavy and distorted. Then at one point, the reflection broke and vanished.
"Who…Am…I…?"
As usual. No response.
The only sounds were the soft dripping of water, rats running around, and his shallow breathing.
The young man sat there for a while, unmoving and lost in thought. As if he was waiting for something to happen, maybe some memories to come back.
But he knew. It's no use. There is nothing in his mind.
The only thing he knows for sure is that this broken body wasn't his.
"I need to do something…" He mumbled to himself as he dragged himself up again.
He lifted his eyes toward the small window near the ceiling, also the only light source in the cell.
He slowly made his way towards the window, step by step. Once he reached it, he stretched his arms upwards to reach the window frame.
"Argh…" He clenched his jaw and pushed himself up.
The bars were thick and rusty, and the gaps were too small to escape through. However, he didn't care since he wasn't trying to escape.
All he wanted was to look out, to see what was beyond these walls.
He pulled himself up just high enough to look outside. For the first time since he woke up in this hellish place, he saw the world.
But what he saw was not freedom. It was a living hell.
Through the rusty bars, the world stretched out into a vast but grim landscape. The prison was on top of a mountain, surrounded by high cliffs and rocky walls. The sky above was a deep shade of gray, with thick clouds lining up like a giant serpent.
The scene is like a nightmare: rows of small buildings made of concrete and metal with no windows. They are all surrounded by barbed wire and guard towers around. Black smoke slowly rose from far-off chimneys, twisting up into the sky above.
Armed men in long coats stood by the fences, their rifles hanging over their shoulders. Under the watchful eyes of the guards, a small group of prisoners in dirty uniforms walked in line. Their faces seemed lifeless...
The prisoners were led to a remote area where the guards approached to bind their hands to a wooden post, covering their eyes and mouths. Once that was done, the guards formed a line, they raised their rifles and—
BANG!
The young man stared in silence, his hand clutching the window frame so hard that his knuckles turned white. He felt a chill run down his spine.
"The hell…?"
This place wasn't a prison.
It was a graveyard with walls.
And he was just another corpse waiting to be buried.
He fell back from the window, losing his grip on the cold metal. He fell to the floor with a thud, feeling the pain in his back.
What is this place? Why am I here? What did I do? Why can't I remember anything?
Hundreds of questions ran through his mind again, and yet he was unable to answer any of them.
"…I should stop." The young man closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "Panic isn't gonna help anything…"
"Although I don't know who I am or why am I here…" He muttered.
He forced himself to sit up again, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
"But I will find out later on."
He glanced at the window, and then at his shaking hands.
"This place might gonna kill me." His voice was low but determined. "So I need to get out of here first."
As soon as the words left his mouth—
Clank.
Out of nowhere, a noise from outside the cell door suddenly made him jolt. The noise of heavy boots scrapping on the ground, the clink of keys, and the creak of old metal bars.
He quickly turned to the bars as it creaked open. But before he could say anything, a body was thrown into the cell and hit the ground with a hard thud.
It's an old, small, and dirty man. His clothes were just as tattered as the young man's. His face was hidden behind messy hair and dirt. He let out a painful groan, barely conscious.
Behind him, a guard stood in the doorway, grinning hideously like he was dropping off garbage.
"Since you seemed so lonely." The guard sneered with a mocking voice. "We decided to get for you murderer a roommate. Try not to kill each other like you did with your family, alright?"
The guard laughed and slammed the bars shut again, leaving the young man along with the old man in the dark cell.
The young man sat still, looking at the person on the floor. The old man hadn't moved much; he only twitched and groaned a few times.
Murderer…? Family?
The guard's words echoed in his mind.
Was that why I'm here?
Did I really…?
He shook his head. "No, it's still too soon to confirm anything."
I should wake up the old man first.
The young man thought for a moment, then slowly crawled over to the old man, ignoring the pain in his limbs. He stopped near the old man and reached out his hand.
"H-Hey… Are you alright?" He asked softly. "Can you hear me?"
No answer.
The young man decided to move a little closer. "Hey… Wake up."
But that was his mistake. The old man suddenly moved. Without any warning, the old man suddenly sat up and pushed the young man away hard, making him fall to the ground.
"Don't touch me, you filthy bastard." The old man snapped, his voice full of disgust.
The young man groaned as he fell to the floor again, feeling the pain in his back.
The old man sat up and rubbed his shoulder. "Damn guards… always throwing me around like I'm some kind of trash."
Then his eyes narrowed as he looked at the young man.
"You…" The old man hissed, speaking with clear disgust. "Of all people, why the hell do I have to share a cell with a scumbag like you?"
The old man spat on the ground. "Trash. Sinner of the Empire. I knew what I study were illegal, but putting me in a cell with this scumbag is too much!"
The young man lay on the floor, his face twisted in pain as he stared up at the ceiling.
Of course.
Of course this would happen.
He closed his eyes for a second, clenching his teeth as the pain in his ribs worsened.
"Scumbag." "Filthy." "Murderer."
Everyone knew what he had done. Everyone except him.
He let out a long, tired sigh. "F#ck this life."
This is gonna be a long stay...