RE:WRITE

32.0 Zero_Chapter 11: Box

He didn't know who he was or how he got there. In fact, he didn't know much of anything.

What he did know, however, was that everything was white.

No shadows, no edges, just a world of whiteness in every direction.

He looked at himself, and noticed his arms, his legs and his body. He opened and closed his fists, and wiggled his toes. He was fascinated when his body moved as he willed it and his arms and legs did what he wanted them to. He realized that they were a part of him.

But was the whiteness a part of him too?

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't.

He couldn't move it like he could his body, but he still felt a strange connection to the whiteness that he couldn't quite explain.

His legs brushed the whiteness below and he felt the sensation tingle up his body. He moved his legs again, exploring this new sensation and the smooth, white ground beneath him.

He brought his legs together, realizing that he could feel himself. He lifted his hands and touched his cheeks and then he patted his head, felt his forehead and rubbed his chin. His skin felt softer than the whiteness, but less smooth. He touched his arms and felt his muscles twitch and flex as he moved them.

And then he placed a hand on his chest and felt something thumping, throbbing and pulsing inside him. The rhythmic beating felt relaxing, so he stayed like that for a while, letting his heartbeat comfort him.

But he was curious. If the whiteness beneath him felt hard and solid, what about the 'world of whiteness' around him?

He slowly reached out as if to touch the air, but his fingers hit something hard and smooth in front of him. He opened his palms and felt the solid whiteness in front of him. He slid his hands across the surface and, to his astonishment, found another solid wall emerging from the first.

He gingerly reached out to this new surface, and noted how similar it felt to the other wall and the ground. Soon, he was tracing the edges of the walls with his fingers and turning in circles as he explored the limits of the whiteness with both of his hands outstretched.

There were four walls around him, emerging from the edges of the surfaces above and below him. None of them were too far away, since he hadn't needed to move from his original position at all, but he could still stand comfortably without hitting his head on the whiteness above.

Unlike his skin, the surfaces were smooth, unblemished and uniform. As far as he could tell, they were exactly the same size and shape.

They enclosed him, trapped him in a perfectly white world that he might never be able to leave.

But then again, he didn't even know what was outside the walls. In fact, he didn't even know if there was something outside the world of whiteness.

Were there others like him outside?

Did their skin feel like his, or did it feel smooth like the surface of the walls?

Could they move their body when they wanted to, like he could?

Did something thump inside their chests too?

Did they ask questions like he did?

Did they live in a world of whiteness, like he did? And if they did...did they want to get out...or were they scared of what was outside, like he was?