Bailonz Street 13

It was a dark scene. A desolate landscape greeted me with emptiness.

The ground was covered in a warm liquid that splashed with every step I took, soaking my feet. I now know it was blood—both its taste and the texture when it touched my tongue matched.

And the whispers that filled this place.

I let out a small laugh. Maybe I even felt a bit relieved. The situation was already surreal, and another layer of unreality wouldn’t change much. I couldn’t afford to cry or be terrified by mere whispers.

I wanted to go home. I needed to go home. To do that, I had to stay sane. I couldn’t have another seizure like the one I had earlier.

I heard the whispers.

[…]

“I can’t hear you.”

[…]