Act - 3: ''Faith''

As we reached the living quarters, Faith insisted on helping me clean up my wounds.

She gently dabbed at the cuts and bruises on my face with a damp cloth, her touch a comforting contrast to the pain I was feeling inside.

"I'm sorry, Keinan," she whispered softly, her eyes filled with tears. "I wish things were different. I wish I could make them stop." I wanted to tell her that it wasn't her fault, that she had nothing to apologize for, but the words caught in my throat.

Instead, I reached out and took her hand in mine, squeezing it tightly as if to reassure her that I was okay, even when I wasn't.

After Faith had finished tending to my wounds, we sat in silence for a while, lost in our own thoughts.

I could see the worry etched on her face, the guilt weighing heavily on her shoulders. She blamed herself for what had happened to me, even though she was the only reason I hadn't given up hope a long time ago.

Eventually, Faith stood up and made her way to the door, her expression pained. "I should go," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I'll come back tomorrow, okay?

We'll figure something out, I promise." I nodded numbly, unable to find the words to respond. As Faith left the room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness wash over me. She was the only light in my dark and lonely world, and without her, I didn't know how much longer I could go on.

Alone once again, I lay down on my cot and stared up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on me.

It was moments like these when the darkness threatened to consume me whole, when I felt like there was no escape from the pain and despair that surrounded me.

But somehow, someway, I knew that Faith would always be there to pull me back from the brink, to remind me that there was still hope, even in the darkest of times.

And so, with her face etched in my mind and her warmth lingering on my skin, I closed my eyes and let sleep carry me away from the harsh reality of my existence, if only for a little while.

As Faith's soft voice reached my ears, a flicker of hope sparked within the darkness of my soul. Despite the weight of my burdens, her presence offered a glimmer of light in the suffocating gloom of the bunker.

"I'm here," I managed to reply, the words feeling foreign on my tongue but somehow comforting in their honesty.

Faith's eyes searched mine, her gaze unwavering as she reached out to grasp my trembling hand. In that simple touch, I found solace, a fleeting moment of connection in a world devoid of warmth.

"We'll get through this together," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the distant hum of machinery. "I won't let you face this alone."

Her words were a lifeline in the darkness, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, we were not alone. With Faith by my side, I felt a newfound sense of strength, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair.

As we stood there, hand in hand, I felt the weight of the world lift from my shoulders, if only for a moment.

Faith's presence was a balm to my weary soul, a beacon of light in the endless night.

But as the echoes of our shared pain faded into the silence, reality came crashing back with a vengeance.

I am still prisoner of my own making, trapped in a cycle of despair with no end in sight.

With a heavy heart, I knew that our time together was fleeting, a brief respite from the harsh realities of the world outside.

As Faith's fingers slipped from mine, I felt a pang of loss deep within my chest, a longing for something I could never truly have.

"see you tomorrow," Faith whispered, her voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the corridor.

"see you tomorrow Faith," I echoed, my voice choked with emotion as I watched her disappear into the darkness.

Alone once more, I trudged onward, the weight of my burdens heavier than ever before.

But as I made my way back to my own quarters, I clung to the memory of Faith's touch, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatened to consume me.

As I approached my rundown dwelling, the knot of anxiety in my stomach tightened. The reason for my dread lay not just in the dilapidated state of my home but in the looming presence of my parents. Their disapproval was palpable, and the mere sight of me seemed to stoke their simmering anger.

My arrival home was always met with a storm of reproach and disappointment. Every crack in the walls and every broken fixture was a testament to their frustration with my perceived failures. I could practically hear the sharp intake of breath as they caught sight of me, their expressions twisting into masks of disdain.

Facing their disappointment was like staring into a bottomless pit of shame, each glance a reminder of my inadequacies. The weight of their disapproval bore down on me, suffocating any hope of respite or redemption.

Dad's voice cut through the tense atmosphere like a sharp blade. "I'm going out," he announced, his tone terse, already moving towards the door.

My heart sank at the familiar dismissal. "Okay," I mumbled, my gaze fixed on the floor, knowing better than to expect any further acknowledgment.

My mother's eyes flashed with anger, her jaw tightening as she turned to face me. "There's some soup in the kitchen. Go and eat it," she said, her voice laced with barely concealed frustration.

"Oh sure, Thanks Mom," I replied softly, trying to diffuse the tension, but it only seemed to make her angrier.

Suddenly, My mother's temper erupted like a volcano. "Sure? That's all you have to say?" she exclaimed, her voice rising with each word. "You think you can just waltz in here and act like everything's fine? You're a disgrace!"

I flinched at the outburst, My heart pounding in my chest. I knew better than to argue with her when she was like this. Without another word, I turned and hurried towards the kitchen, desperate to escape the storm brewing behind me.