silly little tsp angst for a school project

this is very short

  That's it. He set me free. His last words to me were "I've ruined you long enough. I've ruined your life and the least I could do is set you free." The door shut behind me. I was free. I was out of that god awful office and I never had to come back. But something inside of me felt off. A smokey kind of painful feeling, as if the fire that was lit inside me to keep me going had just gone out. Nonetheless I couldn't go back now, so I started through the woods. I passed dead trees, mud, and crumbling leaves as I tried to navigate through the unknown terrain. As I treaded through dried mud and rocks, the cold air blew and made me shiver. I hadn't realized how cold it was outside. I suppose this is my karma for never trying to leave. I saw something that intrigued me up ahead. A junkyard.

I walked by myself into the desolate junkyard. I walked slowly and absorbed the broken memories of old cars and trucks. Garbage that was once the treasures of somebody's home. They seemed similar to the furniture and dishware I used to keep in my old apartment. Of course it was simulated but it still had a frigid feeling. It felt so lonesome. Like a gloomy feeling of dread in every step farther into the wasteland. The feelings of destruction and betrayal. The feelings of a wistful lost family. As I walked farther I felt the cold, dry air of the December evening. It's been hours since I've heard his voice. It's not normal, It doesn't feel right to not hear his voice trailing from above narrating every move I make.

I continue down the forlorn path, Everything feels so cold when his warm-like-sunshine voice isn't tainting my brain. The leaves crunched under my shoes. Every step down the path is colder as I feel my connection with him fading, getting farther and farther away. There were signs pointing down the path, but all the words were blurred. I don't think the map was meant to be loaded this far. Why isn't he restarting the game? I know he said I deserved the freedom but I don't feel free. It felt like I was dreaming but I couldn't wake up. A nightmare that repeated for a lifetime. The silence was piercing. It's like the leaves below me were screaming in anguish. I couldn't stand it. It's so cold. Cold and empty. I might have left him but it feels as if he's abandoned me.

The crunching of the leaves slowly starts to fade out as the muddy ground changes to a pavement. Somehow the cold had become colder and the desolate nearly hopeless. As now not even the melancholy leaves could comfort me in my silence. All I could hear now was my own tell-tale heartbeat. A volcano of dread in my chest. I reach a paved overpass with chilling walls. They were caked in dirt, grime and graffiti tags. Something I know The Narrator would never approve of in his story. He really didn't write this. A chill shot down my spine. But not out of fear, no, but instead as if the spirit of lost memories itself was stabbing me in the back. I couldn't do this. I can't leave him. I know he can't handle that. I turn around slowly. I craved nothing more than to bolt back and beg for his forgiveness. I went to take a step. My vision went black. And the silence was absolutely deafening. The End is Never the End.