Losing Hope

This place, this Unreality. Every day, every moment I am stuck here in this living nightmare, it saps my strength, my willpower. I am beginning to lose hope of ever escaping.

It seems that the creators of this hellish place knew what they were doing when they trapped us here like mice in a maze. Separate us, make us think we are alone, and sit back and watch as we slowly lose our minds.

But I know now: I am not alone.

There are other people trapped here, as much alone as I am, trapped inside my own head. I hear them calling, crying out for help. Several times I have heard desperate screams, suddenly cut short. At first I thought it was just another trick of the system, another nightmare. But once I saw him.

A boy, a teenager. 17, maybe 18. He was dirty and pale, his blond hair slicked back with sweat. And he was running as if his life depended on it. I saw the fear in his eyes as he dashed past me, but there was nothing behind him, nothing chasing him. Perhaps his fear was only in his mind.

I called out to him, and heard my voice crack, rusty with disuse. But he didn't look back. He just kept running, his feet kicking up clouds of dust that marred the deolate landscape. And then he was gone.

I thought about following him. I almost did. But then fear got the best of me, and I hunched down, trying to make myself invisible. Maybe if I couldn't be seen, I would just fade away.

But I'm still here. Still trapped. Many times I've thought about exploring, trying to find food, shelter. But there is no hunger here, no weather. Only gray. So why bother?

If I am going to die, it had better be soon.

The End

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