The corridor beyond was narrower than I expected.
Metal walls peeled with age, their surfaces cracked and uneven. Faded yellow lines ran along them, their meaning long forgotten,like instructions that no longer applied.
The lights flickered overhead, uncertain and unstable, as if they couldn't decide whether to remain or disappear entirely.
I took a step.
Then stopped.
My knees nearly gave out.
I leaned against the wall instinctively. It was colder than it should have been,too cold, like something beneath it hadn't finished settling.
My breathing was uneven.
Not fear.
Something else.
As if my body were trying to reorganize itself… without instructions.
I pushed forward.
Each step made my head heavier. My hearing narrowed, compressing the world into fragments. The few sounds that remained, a distant hum, a metallic echo,felt like they came from inside my skull rather than around me.
I reached an intersection.
Three corridors.
Identical.
No signs. No markings. No indication that one path mattered more than the others.
I chose one.
Not because it felt right.
Because standing still felt worse.
After a few meters, nausea hit me hard.
I bent forward as heat rose from my stomach, sharp and sudden. Bitter liquid followed, forcing its way out as my body rejected something it couldn't process.
This time, my knees hit the floor.
I didn't resist.
I stayed there, back against the wall, breathing slowly,counting without thinking.
One.
Two.
The rhythm came automatically.
And with it…
a realization.
Simple.
Unavoidable.
My body knows I'm late.
I didn't understand what that meant.
But I felt it.
Deep.
Embedded somewhere beneath thought.
After an unknown amount of time, I stood again.
Unstable,but moving.
The corridor stretched on before ending at a rusted metal staircase leading upward.
I placed my foot on the first step.
The sound echoed louder than it should have.
I froze.
Waited.
Nothing answered.
I climbed.
With each step, the air changed,less cold, but heavier. Denser. Like it carried something unseen, something that hadn't fully settled into place.
At the top stood another door.
Smaller.
Slightly open.
Not abandoned.
Not maintained.
Just… left.
I pushed it.
Light struck my eyes.
Not bright.
Not warm.
A pale, dusty sunlight,like the sky itself had weakened.
The air outside felt older than the one I left behind.
Not fresher.
Not cleaner.
Older.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
Then opened them.
I was outside.
A wide, uneven ground stretched ahead, cracked and unstable. In the distance, buildings leaned at impossible angles,some hollowed out, others collapsing inward as if something inside them had already given up.
No movement.
No voices.
The air carried a scent I couldn't name.
Not decay.
Not dust.
Something closer to abandonment itself.
I stepped forward.
Behind me, the building remained silent.
Untouched.
Unresponsive.
Ahead of me…
the world waited.
Not empty.
Not dead.
Waiting.
As if expecting something.
As if expecting me.
I lifted my head.
The sky was there.
But it wasn't the sky I remembered.
And for the first time since waking..
I felt fear.
Not fear of death.
Not fear of being alone.
Something sharper.
More precise.
The kind of fear that doesn't come from danger..
but from understanding.
That I hadn't woken up alone.
And whatever else was here…
had been awake longer than me.