lost

From the moment the incident occurred, an ominous voice has been relentlessly haunting me. It's a chilling whisper that sends shivers down my spine, echoing in the hollow silence of my surroundings. I struggle for breath, my lungs feel as though they're filled with lead, choked by the nauseating stench of decaying human flesh.

The world around me is crumbling, succumbing to an inevitable doom. The once vibrant life has been replaced by a grim spectacle of death and despair. Food and water have become scarce commodities, their absence amplifying the gnawing hunger and thirst that plague us all.

The room I find myself in is shrouded in an oppressive darkness, a tangible manifestation of the dread that grips my heart. The only respite from this all-consuming blackness is a sliver of light that seeps in through the cracks around the door. It's a feeble beacon in this sea of darkness, yet it's all we have to cling on to, a glimmer of hope in these desperate times.

We were assured of a swift retrieval once the mission reached its conclusion. However, as time wore on, it felt as though we had been erased from their memories, abandoned and left to our own devices in this desolate place.

Occasionally, the silence would be broken by sounds that were unmistakably human. The faint murmur of voices would drift through the air, a cruel reminder of the world that existed beyond our confines. But our cries for help were futile, swallowed by the thick walls that imprisoned us. Even if we screamed at the top of our lungs, no one on the outside would hear our desperate pleas for rescue.

This was no ordinary room; it was a bunker, a fortress of solitude accessible only to the soldiers. For two interminable years, I waited in that bunker, my existence reduced to the confines of its cold, concrete walls. Then, one day, the door finally creaked open.

As the door swung wide, a blinding light flooded in, forcing me to avert my gaze. It had been so long since I had basked in natural light that my eyes recoiled from its intensity. The world outside rushed in to greet me, people swarming around me with a flurry of questions. "How long have you been here? How did you end up locked in here?" they asked.

I tried to respond, but found that words eluded me. My voice, unused for so long, felt foreign and rusty. It was as if I had forgotten how to speak, my vocal cords straining to produce even the faintest whisper.

Following our rescue, we were whisked away to the hospital for medical examinations. Tragically, most of the survivors succumbed to their weakened states in the hospital. I emerged as the sole survivor of that harrowing incident, a living testament to our ordeal.

BACK TO THE HOSPITAL.

"Hey, wake up, sleepyhead! Did a black hole swallow you or something?" Isuel hollered at me, her voice echoing in the room.

"Sure… I'm here. If a black hole had swallowed me, I'd be spaghettified by now, not chatting with you," I retorted, my voice barely above a whisper as I turned my head away.

"Well, if you're still in one piece, tell me how you're feeling. Any aches or pains? Seeing any ghostly apparitions again?" Isuel continued her interrogation, sauntering over to inspect my bandaged hand. "You really need to get these bandages off," she said, her face etched with concern.

"Look, I can't just rip off these bandages like they're some kind of fashion statement gone wrong. If I did, I'd probably kick the bucket. And about the faces… let's just say it's my personal horror show," I replied, shrugging off the blanket and planting my feet firmly on the ground.

Every step that I took felt like walking on fire. My whole body ached. "So how did the funeral go?" I muttered while opening the door.

"Well, it went fine until the whole family started fighting. I really don't know what everyone was fighting about but it sounded like those fuckers were having fun," Isuel replied.

"Well I'm gonna go now, everyone back home will be waiting, and tell the doctor not to worry about me, I don't have that long to live anyway," I spoke while walking out the door.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to say Yohan is waiting for you in the parking lot so be quick," Isuel shouted after me.

For a fleeting moment, I was under the impression that the shadows had dissipated. But they were merely biding their time, their dark silhouettes peeking at me from every hidden corner, every unlit crevice. Their presence has become such a constant in my life that I've taken to calling them my 'Shadow Army'. I stand as their commander, their sovereign, ruling over this spectral legion from the heart of the darkness.

Yet, despite my dominion over this army of shadows, I remain nameless. The world outside has bestowed upon me the title 'The Devil's Successor', a moniker that sends chills down the spines of many. But I find it doesn't quite resonate with me. It's too ominous, too laden with malevolence for my liking.

I am not a successor of evil, but a ruler of shadows. My reign is not one of fear and terror but of silent vigilance from the darkness. The name 'The Devil's Successor' doesn't capture the essence of who I am or what I represent. Perhaps something less foreboding, more fitting for a monarch of the shadows is needed. A title that encapsulates not just my rule over the Shadow Army, but also my existence within these darkened corners.

I navigated my way to where Yohan's car was stationed, gently pulling open the front door and settling into the seat.

"Are you feeling better now?" Yohan inquired, his attention shifting from his phone to me.

"I wasn't feeling ill to begin with. I'm not sure why I fainted," I responded, a hint of confusion lacing my words.

"Given the constant turmoil in your life, it's like leaping from the frying pan into the fire. I'm not surprised you passed out," Yohan retorted, starting the car and pulling away from the curb. He leaned back in his seat, a picture of indifference. His lack of empathy was understandable, considering his own experiences of rejection and neglect throughout his life. As for Isuel, she had been shouldering my burdens since our childhood.

"Why can't my life be more like diving into water instead of fire?" I mused aloud.

"You'll understand soon enough. That prisoner was just released. It's only a matter of time before you're discovered. I sincerely hope that doesn't happen," Yohan replied, his tone serious.