Fathom [On Hold]

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four: Anew

Pressure. All I feel is pressure. It presses down on me at all angles, compressing me into something two-dimensional. It feels as though I have been stripped of all my senses but my sense of touch, of feeling.

It's like I have forgotten how to move, because I want to, but I can't...try. I can't do anything, actually. I can only feel myself being crushed by all the pressure.

And then all of sudden in place of nothing, there is everything.

I am sore everywhere, particularly in my head. My hands weave themselves in my hair and push down on my skull, trying to soothe the burning pain. I suck in deep breaths, and finally find it in me to open my eyes.

The crisp, white surroundings stun me and I have to squint while my eyes adjust, but when I blink away the cloudiness I see that I am in a small, white room hunched in the back corner. As the lingering confusion clears away I begin to notice things. My hair is no longer tangled and greasy but smooth and brushed through, and my clothes have been changed. My pants and shirt are baby blue and papery, and my feet are bare. I can't remember the last time I was this clean, and my skin is completely devoid of the scratches, scars, and bruises. I feel the back of my head for the big gash I know is there, but find only silky hair and clean scalp. 

Using the wall for support I stand and make my way over to the door. When I push it open I am met with even more white, and endless distance stretching in both directions. I have to rub the moisture out of my eyes before I can see clearly again, and stand stock still for God knows how long.

The parallel is daunting and painfully obvious. Will I once again be sentenced to wandering a labyrinth of tunnels?

The thought of going through something like that again makes me feel physically ill. I killed myself. Isn't that enough?

But thinking too much makes my head hurt, so I shove the how's and why's away for a rainy day. Now I must act; I can get my answers later. Hopefully.

I turn to my right and stalk down the hallway. My feet hit the floor with a little more force than is necessary, and my hands ache from being balled up so tight. This is bullshit. Absolute bullshit. What else must I do to get peace? I can live with not being able to resolve everything. I can live with not seeing adulthood. What I can't live with is living period.

I shove open the first door I see and am greeted by an empty room, causing me to fume even more. I don't even know what I expected. I slam it shut, the sound echoing down the hall. I head for the next door and outstretch my arm to throw it open, but then the sound of my own name coming from behind causes me to freeze where I stand.

Slowly I turn around to find an impossibility looking right into my own eyes.

"Maddox?" He stands only a few yards away from me, his expression of shock no doubt mirroring my own. But only when that haze of disbelief disappears do I notice something is off.

Maddox's skin color is off, now like the sky on an overcast day. His limbs and fingers look too long for his torso and way bonier than they should be. He has two bumps on top of his head, although there is nothing clearly sticking out from his hair. But the thing that scares me the most are his eyes, which now are coated in a red film.

"Yeah, it's me." And then suddenly I am back in the tunnels meeting him for the first time and being lured into his sister's trap. It is eerie how similar the two scenes are.

"We're supposed to be dead," is all I can think of to say. When he takes a step towards me I lurch backward on instinct.

"But we're not. At least, I don't think so." He swallows several times after he finishes speaking like he has something stuck in his throat. His voice is compressed and tight like that of a man deprived of water. The impulse to run rises from my stomach into my chest, and my entire body braces itself to bolt.