𝐒𝐮𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞- a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant or that has been loved then lost. "The love that remains."
a love between a hopeless girl and a hopeless boy.
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I stand in the dim light of the hallway, the sterile white walls stretching endlessly in both directions.
The air is thick with a metallic scent, a reminder of the cold, clinical environment that surrounds me.
Flickering fluorescent lights cast eerie shadows, making the whole place feel alive as if it were watching me. I can hear the distant hum of machinery, a constant reminder of the experiments happening all around me.
This building, I realize in a haze, is a labyrinth of horrors, a place where memories are locked away like prisoners.
As I walk further down the corridor, I catch glimpses of the rooms through glass panels.
Inside, people are strapped to tables, their eyes wide with fear and confusion.
I can see the scientists moving about. Their lab coats stark against the darkness of the rooms. They’re focused and calculating as they poke and prod at the subjects, their expressions devoid of empathy.
I shudder at the thought of being one of them, of being subjected to their whims.
Then I remember her. The girl who made everything seemed a little less bleak.
Her laughter used to echo in the hallways, brightening even the darkest corners of this place. She was beautiful, with hair that caught the light and eyes that sparkled with mischief.
I used to steal glances at her, feeling a warmth spread through me that I didn’t quite understand. But now, she’s just a memory, locked away by the scientists’ orders.
The thought of her absence weighs heavily on my heart, a dull ache that refuses to fade. I wish I could tell her how I felt, but that chance has been ripped away from me.
The punishments for misbehavior are brutal. I’ve seen them happen too many times.
When someone steps out of line, the scientists don’t hesitate to make an example of them.
I remember one time, a boy tried to escape. They dragged him back, and the screams still haunt me. They made him pay for his defiance, strapping him to a chair while they administered shock therapy.
The crackle of electricity mixed with his cries is a sound I can’t shake. The fear of that punishment lingers in the back of my mind, a constant reminder to toe the line.
In this place, I’ve learned to keep my head down and follow orders, but it doesn’t mean I’m free from the torment.
The trials are a twisted game, and every failure results in pain. I’ve had to endure the physical and mental strain, pushed to my limits, and beyond.
