The Hidden Mysteries

Seven's body trembled as he crouched by the riverbank, his parched throat screaming for relief.

The water was right there, glistening and cool, but the beasts on the far bank were too close.

He couldn't risk crossing.

He had to be quick.

He had to be smart.

His eyes darted to the beasts.

They were still distracted, their attention divided between the river and the ruins behind them.

One of them pawed at the ground, its snout low as it sniffed for something.

The others paced, their movements restless but not yet focused on him.

He had a small window. A tiny chance.

He dropped to his stomach, crawling forward until his face was just above the water.

His hands shook as he cupped them, dipping them into the river.

The cold sent a shiver through him, but he didn't care.

He brought the water to his lips, drinking greedily.

It was the most glorious thing he'd ever tasted, soothing the fire in his throat.

He dipped his hands again, drinking as much as he could, as fast as he could.

But then a low growl cut through the air.

Seven froze, his hands still in the water.

Slowly, he turned his head.

One of the beasts had stopped pacing.

Its head was tilted, and its ears pricked forward.

It was staring right at him.

His heart stopped.

The beast let out a sharp bark, and the others turned, their eyes locking onto him.

Seven's mind screamed at him to move, but his body was locked in place, paralyzed by fear.

The beasts snarled, their muscles coiling as they prepared to charge.

He scrambled backward, his hands slipping on the wet stones.

The beasts lunged, their massive bodies crashing into the river, sending sprays of water into the air.

Seven didn't think. He just ran.

His legs carried him away from the river, back toward the ruins he'd come from.

The beasts' snarls echoed behind him, growing louder with every second.

He didn't dare look back.

He could hear their heavy footfalls, the splashing of water as they surged across the river.

They were fast, too fast.

He veered sharply, ducking behind a crumbling wall.

His chest heaved as he pressed himself against the stone, trying to make himself as small as possible.

The beasts' snarls grew louder, their footsteps pounding against the ground.

They were close. Too close.

He peeked around the edge of the wall.

The beasts were spreading out, their noses to the ground as they searched for his scent.

One of them was just a few feet away, its massive head swinging from side to side.

Seven held his breath, his body trembling.

The beast paused, its nostrils flaring. It turned its head, its eyes narrowing as it stared directly at the wall where Seven was hiding.

He clenched his fists, his mind racing. If it found him, he was dead. He had to do something. Anything.

His hand brushed against a loose stone at his feet.

Without thinking, he grabbed it and hurled it as far as he could, away from the river.

The stone clattered against the ruins, the sound echoing through the silence.

The beasts' heads snapped toward the noise.

With a chorus of snarls, they charged, their massive bodies tearing through the rubble as they pursued the distraction.

Seven didn't wait.

He bolted in the opposite direction, his legs carrying him as fast as they could.

He didn't look back.

He didn't stop. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs gave out, collapsing behind a pile of debris.

For a moment, he just lay there, gasping for air.

The beasts' snarls were distant now, but he knew they wouldn't be fooled for long. He had to keep moving.

He had to get back to the glowing room.

But for now, he allowed himself a moment of relief. He'd gotten his water. He'd survived. And he'd live to fight another day.

With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet and moved again, back to the glowing room, away from the beasts and the river.

His body ached, and his mind was clouded with exhaustion, but one thought burned clear: he wasn't giving up. Not yet. Not ever. 

****

He reached the dark building with the glowing room, exhausted and drained, and stepped inside.

The darkness, which had once filled him with fear, now felt calming compared to the snarling beasts he had just escaped.

It was strange how quickly his perspective had shifted, this place, eerie as it was, had become his refuge.

He had just dropped the remaining scraps of the rabbit beast far from the building, a precaution he hoped would keep the larger beasts from tracking the scent to his safe area.

He couldn't afford to draw them here.

Not now.

Not ever.

For now, he decided to call this place his "safe area," though the term felt fragile like it could shatter at any moment.

He trudged up the stairs to the glowing room, his legs heavy and unsteady.

Collapsing near the skeleton, he lay down for a moment, his body sinking into the cool floor.

He closed his eyes, his mind racing despite his exhaustion. 

This isn't Earth, he thought. 

That much is clear. 

Earth didn't have places like this, strange, otherworldly structures that defied logic.

It didn't have green hues lingering in the air like some kind of unnatural mist. The rules here were different, and he was still struggling to understand them.

His thoughts turned to his sister, Rain. Was she worried about him?

Did she even know he was gone?

The ache in his chest wasn't just from fear or exhaustion, it was the weight of being alone, truly alone, in a world that felt like it wanted to swallow him whole.

He didn't know what to do next. He was scared, stranded, and utterly unprepared for whatever this world had in store for him.

As he lay there, staring up at the faintly glowing ceiling, a single tear slid sideways across his face, pooling near his ear.

He didn't sob at first, it was just one tear, silent and unbidden, as if his body had finally given in to the weight of everything he'd been holding back.

But then another came, and another, until the floodgates opened. His chest heaved, and the sobs began, quiet at first, muffled by the crook of his arm as he pressed it against his face.

The tears came harder now, spilling over his sleeve and onto the cold floor beneath him.

The glow of the room seemed to dim around him as if even the strange, otherworldly light couldn't penetrate the darkness settling over his heart.

His thoughts turned to God, or whatever force might be out there, watching, listening, or perhaps doing nothing at all.

 If God is real, he thought bitterly, why am I here? Why am I suffering like this? 

He had been trying to improve his life, hadn't he?

He wasn't perfect, but he wasn't a bad person.

He cared about his sister, about doing the right thing, about being better than he was yesterday.

So why was he here, trapped in this nightmare, alone and afraid, with death lurking around every corner?

The questions burned in his mind, sharp and unrelenting. Either God wasn't real, or if He was, He wasn't the kind, loving deity Seven had been taught to believe in.

This world felt cruel, indifferent, and even malicious.

What kind of God would allow something like this to happen?

What kind of God would abandon him here, in a place that defied all reason, where survival felt like a cruel joke?

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as anger and despair warred within him.

He wanted to scream, to demand answers, but there was no one to hear him.

No one to answer. Just the glowing room, the skeleton beside him, and the suffocating silence.

But even as the bitterness threatened to consume him, a small, fragile part of him resisted. He didn't know if God was real, or if this world had any meaning, or if his suffering would ever end.

But he knew one thing, he was still here.

He was still breathing.

And as long as he was alive, he had a choice, to give up, or to keep fighting.

For now, he chose to fight.

Not because he believed in some grand plan or divine justice, but because he had to.

Because giving up meant letting this damn world win.

And as broken and scared as he was, he wasn't ready to do that. Not yet.

The sobs shook his entire body, each one raw and unfiltered.

The weight of everything, the fear, the loneliness, the sheer absurdity of his situation, poured out of him in waves, leaving him feeling hollow and exposed.

He thought of Rain again, of the life he'd left behind.

He thought of the moments he'd taken for granted, the simple joys he'd never fully appreciated.

And he thought of the future he might never have, the dreams he might never see come to life.

It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

But even as he cried, even as the tears soaked his sleeve and the sobs wracked his body, a small, stubborn part of him refused to break completely.

He was still here. He was still alive. And as long as he was breathing, there was a chance, no matter how slim, that he could find a way out of this.

Slowly, his sobs began to subside, the storm of emotions ebbing into a dull ache.

He lowered his arm, his eyes red and swollen, and stared up at the glowing ceiling. The room felt quieter now, the air heavier, as if it had absorbed his pain and was holding it for him.

He didn't know what would happen next. He didn't know if he'd survive the next hour, let alone the next day.

But for now, he was still here. And that, at least, was something.