Stuck Behind A Screen

I've dug a grave for you my dear

Empty. Her gaze was empty as the mocking letters offline reflected in her eyes.

Good luck, Jake
read 17:48

Five hours. About five to six hours was that ago and the offline would since then not turn to online again. What was she even doing here?

Thick smoke rose into the dark of the night, almost invisible under the moonless sky. Only the cold light of her screen and the warm light of fire about a hundred meters away in the entrance of a mine could have given the emptiness in her eyes away to anyone who was running passed her.

But none of the firefighters, police officers, FBI agents, or paramedics paid her any mind. Why should they in the first place? There was a fire, and a person who has been missing for weeks, was finally found; so why would they care for the pain in a bystander's eyes? Pain that never showed as tears, pain that would rather be buried deep down, six feet under in her subconsciousness, never to be seen by anyone.

She would return to her normal life, if that even existed, would turn away from the heartbreak, pain, and, yet, also the joy that had brought this place upon her. She would vanish, as she has never existed in the first place, like a mere figment of their fantasies, only to be forgotten once the situation changes and she was no longer needed.

And they would go back to their lives as well. With loss, but also winns. Ultimately she was neither. No win, nor a loss. She was just a memory that they would someday forget about, as she would forget about them.

Will I miss them? Will they miss me? were questions she pushed away, like soggy bread that you accidentally left in the sink.

One last time she scrolled through her chats, remembering all the conversations that she'd held with people she hadn't been supposed to meet at all. One chat she read through more thoughtfully, before shutting down the messenger app, never to be opened again.

It was like she had never existed in the first place. No one would find out that she had been there. She wouldn't reply to their texts like they had all just imagined her existence. Because she had foolishly believed her existence meant something--had a purpose to fulfill.

Perhaps the purpose was just simply not what she had imagined it to be. And for that, she would keep living in shame. In shame for not being able to save those who had become important to her.

♧♧

A sole figure emerged from within a hatch, coughing into their elbow. Their face was covered in soot, the skin looking almost the same shade as the raven black strands on their head. Their throat burned, each new cough sending a new flash of pain to their lungs, making their eyes water from agony and dryness.

There had been another exit out of the mines that he had conveniently spotted on his old map at the right time. The map was, just like his phone, lost in the flames. It was a sacrifice that had to be made and yet it frustrated him because he knew you would worry sick if he wouldn't soon contact you and tell you that he was alright.

Yeah, alright...Not good, but alive at the very least. However, was that of no importance to him, as the reality of it finally being over hit him. You had told him, that Hannah had been saved, was finally found, and in good hands.

How exactly the mines had suddenly caught fire, even his genius couldn't really put a finger on. Most likely someone had laid it and that someone was probably Michael Hanson. For whatever reason, he didn't know about. Had that been his plan from the very start? Committing arson in the mines, burying himself under the rubble.

Far too close to having been buried himself, he removed his black hoodie that was partially burned. The smoke and sweat-filled texture made him cringe, so he tied the fabric tightly around his waist. Although he would have to get rid of it one way or another, as he really wouldn't be able to fix it again.