My Eyes Deceive

-- SEE

Thomas sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the cracked ceiling of his small, dimly lit room. The silence of the place was suffocating, broken only by the faint hum of machinery somewhere in the distance. He ran a weary hand through his thinning hair, feeling the weight of every passing year and every cruel day spent in this place. "Mike," Thomas called out softly, his voice hoarse from disuse. Mike stirred from his own corner of the room, as he saw a bottle of half-empty whiskey clutched tightly in Thomas' trembling hands. His eyes met Thomas's gaze with a mixture of guilt and resignation. "Yeah, Thomas?" Mike replied, his voice gravelly.

Thomas hesitated for a moment, unsure how to broach the subject that had been weighing heavily on his mind. "Do you ever feel like... like God has abandoned us?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Mike's brow furrowed, and he took a long, silent, minute before answering. "Sometimes," he admitted, his words hurting ever so slightly. "I used to believe in God, you know? Went to church every Sunday, prayed every night... But after all this... I don't know anymore, Thomas. If God exists, why would He allow us to suffer like this?" Thomas nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to his trembling hands. "I used to find solace in my faith," he murmured. "But now... now it feels like we're trapped in a nightmare, abandoned by any higher power." Mike let out a bitter laugh, before getting a crazy idea. "Maybe It is God," he muttered darkly. "Maybe this is our punishment for something we did, and It is just toying with us." Thomas shook his head, the thought sending a chill down his spine. "No," he said firmly, though uncertainty gnawed at him. "No, It is not God. It is something else entirely, something... malevolent." Silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken fears and regrets. Outside, the fake sunlight began to dim, casting long shadows across the room. Thomas glanced at Mike, who was now staring into the distance with a haunted expression. "We can't keep living like this, Thomas," Mike said quietly, his voice tinged with desperation. "There has to be a way out. We can't give up." Thomas turned to him, eyes filled with a mixture of resignation and defiance. "And what if there isn't, Mike? What if this is all there is now?" Mike opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He wanted to believe that there was hope, that somehow they could escape this hellish existence. But as each day passed, the flicker of hope grew dimmer, suffocated by the darkness that surrounded them. "We have to try," Mike said finally, his voice barely audible. "We have to find a way to survive, no matter what." Thomas nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Yeah," he muttered, picking up the bottle again. "Survive... that's all we can do." As the room descended into silence once more, Thomas stared out the small window, bottle in his hand, wondering if anyone out there could hear their silent pleas for deliverance. But the world outside remained indifferent, wrapped in its own illusions and deceit. Thomas whispered a prayer in the darkness of his thoughts, more out of habit than conviction. "God, if You're still there... please, show us a way. Give us strength to endure." But the only response was the echo of his own voice, swallowed by the emptiness that surrounded them. 

"If God was real, he might as well just be awful," Mike said, his voice tinged with bitterness as he stared at Thomas, who sat hunched over on the edge of his bed, clutching the bottle of whiskey tightly. Thomas looked up, his eyes bloodshot and weary. "Maybe you're right, Mike," he muttered, taking a swig from the bottle. The alcohol burned his throat, but it offered a brief respite from the overwhelming despair that threatened to consume him. Mike shook his head, his expression hardening. "I used to think differently, you know? Used to believe that there was some higher purpose to all of this." He gestured vaguely around the room, encompassing the sterile walls and the oppressive atmosphere. "But look where we are now. How could any loving God allow this?" Thomas sighed heavily, setting the bottle down on the floor beside him. "I don't know, Mike," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I used to find comfort in my faith, but now... now it feels like a cruel joke." "Faith," Mike scoffed, his voice laced with bitterness. "What good has faith done for us here? We're stuck in this nightmare, day after day, with no end in sight." Silence settled between them, broken only by the faint hum of machinery in the distance. Thomas stared at his trembling hands, feeling the weight of every regret and shattered hope. The room felt smaller, suffocating, as if the walls were closing in around them. "I don't have the strength to fight anymore, Mike," Thomas admitted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I just want it to end." Mike's expression softened slightly, a flicker of empathy crossing his face. "I get it, Thomas," he said gently. "But giving up... that's not the answer either." Thomas shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. "What other choice do we have, Mike? We're at the mercy of whatever twisted entity brought us here. There's no escape." Mike reached out, placing a hand on Thomas's shoulder. "We can't lose hope," he urged, his voice pleading. "We have to hold on, for whatever it's worth." Thomas met Mike's gaze, seeing the desperation mirrored in his eyes. "And if hope is worth nothing?" he asked bitterly. "If all we have left is this... this mockery of a life?" "We're still alive," Mike said quietly. "And as long as we're alive, there's a chance." Thomas wanted to argue, to protest that their existence was a mockery of life itself. But he found himself nodding slowly, a reluctant acceptance settling over him. Perhaps hope was a fragile thread, easily broken, but it was all they had left in this bleak place. "Maybe you're right," Thomas conceded, his voice barely audible. "Maybe... we should try." Mike's grip tightened on his shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips. "We will," he said firmly. "Together." As they sat in the dimness of their room, surrounded by shadows and unanswered questions, Thomas felt a flicker of something resembling hope stir within him. It was a fragile ember, threatened by the darkness that loomed around them, but it burned nonetheless.

And for now, that is enough. 

Isn't it?