Concrete Jungle || Bad Omens || Noah Sebastian

Chapter two

Noah had lost track of time. The cell felt suspended in an unreal dimension, devoid of any sign of day or night. The only certainties were the girl’s faint breathing and the overwhelming sensation of a countdown that had seeped into his mind.

How much longer did she have to live?

He had no idea how much time had already passed, but each minute without a solution seemed to shorten the hopes of getting her out of there alive. He had to do something, but his options were razor-thin. He tried to refocus on the room. Was there anything else he might have overlooked?

With great effort, he pushed himself up, stretching the muscles numbed by the cold, and began to feel along the walls. Stone, rough and solid. No hidden mechanisms, no secret doors. Just that low ceiling and those four walls that felt like they were closing in on him. The sense of being trapped in a deadly snare was driving him to madness.

He returned beside the girl. The wound, although still severe, seemed to have stopped bleeding so profusely, yet she remained motionless, pale as a sheet. He knelt beside her again, taking her hand in his.

“If only you could talk, you could tell me who you are... why we’re here…” he murmured, his voice fractured by frustration.

Noah felt an urgent need to fill the silence, to give her a reason to keep fighting, even though she could not hear his words. As he held her hand, a wave of memories surged through his mind, moments from his life that had once seemed trivial but now shone with painful clarity. His home, the evenings spent composing music, the first time his band had played live… Ordinary, common things that now felt so distant. Everything seemed so futile now.

His hand, warm against the girl’s cold one, felt like the only real connection anchoring him to anything. A powerful desire surged within him: to protect her, to pull her out of this nightmare.

Then, again, the noise. The metallic screech he had heard before. Noah sprang to his feet, heart racing, and turned toward the hatch. But this time there was no bucket or gauze. The sound seemed to emanate from the walls themselves, as if they were alive. It felt like something was preparing, that a new threat was lurking just around the corner.

Then, he saw it.

From the hatch where he had taken the gauze to tend to the girl, someone had passed him a T-shirt. He hadn’t even realized he was left bare-chested after tearing his black shirt to bandage his companion’s wound. He quickly put on the T-shirt. It was freezing in that cell.

This made him think. Whoever was holding them captive didn’t want to kill them. At least not yet.

He approached the hatch, checking for any new sign, anything that might have appeared. Nothing. A wave of helplessness washed over him. He was trying to stay calm, but the uncertainty was devouring him. He felt like a pawn in a cruel game whose rules he didn’t understand.

And then, suddenly, a different sound. Faint but distinct. A sigh. Noah whirled around to the girl. Her hand moved slightly, her chest rising with evident effort. She was waking up.

Noah leaned closer to her, holding his breath. “Hey, are you there?” he asked, his voice trembling with emotion. “Stay with me, please.”

The girl’s eyes fluttered beneath her closed eyelids, then slowly opened, but only for an instant and his eyes met a pair of irises so dark they blend in with the pupils. Deep and beautiful eyes, now clouded with pain and something else he couldn't understand. Maybe death itself.

It was a faint gesture, yet sufficient. Noah felt a jolt of relief course through him. She was alive; she was fighting. He just had to keep her awake.

“It’s okay,” he told her, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. “I’m here.”

She didn’t respond, but her eyes, though clouded with pain and fatigue, locked onto his for a moment. It was brief but intense. Noah felt a profound connection, as if in that fleeting eye contact, there was much more. As if, somehow, she knew she could trust him.

“You have to stay awake, okay? I can’t do this alone…” he added, trying to give her motivation.

The girl let out a small whimper, and Noah realized she was trying to speak. He leaned in closer, straining to catch any sound.

“Don’t… leave me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“No, I won’t,” he replied immediately, feeling a lump form in his throat. “I won’t leave you. I’ll find a way to get us out of here.”

Then she closed her eyes again, exhausted, but her breathing seemed more regular, less labored. Perhaps she was buying time, maybe the wound was stabilizing. But Noah knew that wasn’t a solution. They were still trapped, and time was running out.

He sat beside her, his back against the wall. He had done everything possible to staunch the wound, and he had nothing more to offer her. Yet something in that moment, in that brief exchange of words, had touched him deeply. Their bond, though still fragile, had become the only thing anchoring him to hope.

The situation was desperate, but he was no longer alone. She needed him, and he would do anything to protect her.

The silence of the cell returned, but this time Noah did not feel completely lost.