Chapter 3: Ethan's Nightmare

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Ethan:

I'm drowning.

That's the first thing I feel as I return to myself. There's this weight on my chest, pressing down, suffocating me, and I can't seem to get enough air. My lungs burn, screaming for oxygen, but no matter how hard I try to take a breath, it's like there's something lodged in my throat, blocking the way.

Then, there's the darkness.

It is thick and oppressive, wrapping itself around me like a shroud. It's so cold, but it's more than that—it's empty. Hollow. It's the kind of darkness that gets inside you, that makes you forget where you end and the world begins.

For a moment, I think I'm dead. That they finally got me. That the Directive broke me down, peeled away whatever was left of me, and left me to rot in some forgotten corner of their twisted operation.

But then, through the haze, I hear something. Faint, distant, but there. A voice.

Ethan.

It's soft, almost like a whisper, but enough to pull me out of the suffocating dark and make me fight for that next breath.

And then it comes, the air rushing into my lungs all at once, sharp and painful, like the first breath after you've been underwater too long. I gasp, my chest heaving, my head swimming as the world around me shifts, the darkness fading into something else—something worse.

The pain hits me next, searing through every nerve in my body, radiating from my skull down to my fingertips. It's the kind of pain that makes you want to scream, but I don't have the strength. It feels like my mind is being torn apart, like someone's digging into my brain with a thousand tiny needles, each sharp enough to make me wish I could sink back into the blackness and disappear.

But I can't. Not yet.

There's that voice again. It's louder this time.

Ethan.

It's familiar, somehow. It's like something from a dream or a memory, but I can't quite place it. Everything is foggy like I'm stuck somewhere between waking and dreaming, and I can't tell what's real and what's just a product of the nightmare that's been playing out in my head for what feels like an eternity.

I try to focus and grab hold of something solid to pull me out of this mess, but my thoughts are fractured and splintered into a thousand pieces. Images flicker through my mind—faces, places, things I can't remember but know I should. And then there's the sound. A dull, mechanical hum, low and constant, pulsing like a heartbeat. It's all around me, vibrating in my bones, a rhythm that won't stop, no matter how much I want it to.

"Ethan."

That voice. Closer now. More urgent.

This time, I recognize it.

Lena.

The realization crashes over me like a wave, pushing back some of the fog and pulling me out of the haze. I latch onto it, hold onto it like a lifeline, and slowly, painfully, I claw my way back to the surface. The darkness starts to lift just a little, and I feel the cold, hard reality of the world creeping back in.

My eyelids are heavy like they've been glued shut, but I force them open, blinking against the dim light that filters through the cracks in my vision. Everything is blurry at first, shapes and shadows swimming in and out of focus, but then I see her.

Lena.

She's there, right before me, her face pale and drawn, her eyes wide with something between relief and desperation. Her hands are on me, gentle but firm, holding my face, her fingers trembling slightly as they brush against my skin.

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