Upon awakening, the first sense he was aware of was pain. Arthur could feel it shooting up and down the length of his body, even as his eyelids flickered open. He let out small, pitiful whimpers and clamped his eyes shut again, trying to block it all. He touched his fingers to the side of his face, then cried out and pulled his fingers away. The flesh was jagged from the gash there, and it was sticky with congealed blood. So, for the time being, he left it alone, lest he be brought more pain.

He looked around a bit, and found himself in a sort of cave. Large spars of wood from the wardrobe stood on many sides of him, holding back large chunks of plaster and stone. He could just barely see outside through the opening a foot or so away from his face. Arthur cleared his throat with difficulty and tried to call for his parents.

"Mama... Papa..." His small voice came out as nothing more than a whispery croak. When he tried to speak louder, he only fell into a fit of dry, hacking coughs. His throat was so dry, he wanted something to drink to clear it away. "Mama... Papa..." he whispered again. With no response the second time, he thought he might try to crawl out. When he tried, though, he found that he couldn't. He wriggled in the space around him, but something was weighing down on his lower back, making him unable to move. Neither his legs nor his back were broken, but the weight on his back held him down, kept him from escaping the dark hole he was trapped in.

Trapped this way, he could do absolutely nothing. He gulped down a lump in his throat. He was so thirsty.

–

The sun had risen, but thanks to the rubble tunnel above him, he couldn't feel the light shining down on him. However, the humidity and the heat were rising in the small space, and he was beginning to sweat in the heat. Once the feelings of mild claustrophobia settled down and his stomach stopped doing flip-flops, he was starving. His stomach growled angrily at him, and the feeling of the emptiness sent raging pangs through his small body. The dryness in his throat was even worse now, and his face was itchy.

Mama... Papa... Where are you? It's dirty and hot and I'm thirsty and I want you to find me. Where are you?

–

The water had been dripping for a while. A piece of pipe must have torn above him, and water had been steadily dribbling down in pea-sized droplets, by this point, a puddle had formed a short length away from him. If he were to reach out his arm, he would be able to touch the edge with the tips of his fingers. The thirst was worse than ever before. The puddle was taunting him, it was almost torturous how it was right there, a representation of what he needed.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He reached out a shaky hand and wet his fingers in the puddle's edge, then bring them to his mouth to suck them and get the moisture clinging to them. He kept at this for a long while, though it didn't do much to help his thirst. Still, it was moist, and it helped. As he finished wetting his throat, he remembered something. Many times, his mother had told him stories as she tucked him into bed.

Great miracles of the seas parting so people could escape horrible places. Food falling from the sky. A whale that swallowed up a man and let him out safely. These things seemed magical to him, even moreso because of how his mother told him that they could come true. All he had to do, she would say to him, was pray to god, whoever he was. So, he pressed his hands together and bowed his head, leaning his forehead against his hands. Then he closed his eyes and thought out a prayer.

Please God, help me escape this place. Please let Mama and Papa find me, and let me have some water and make the hurting go away.

–

The sun had set, the moon had risen, and then they traded places again. He was still there. Still trapped. He was growing weak and he could hardly think straight. It was only with the greatest difficulty that he managed to reach for the puddle to moisten his lips and throat. The only thing he had been able to eat were a few leaves that had been blown into his little hole. When they were blown within his reach, he lashed out and snatched them up, then stuffed them into his mouth and practically swallowed them whole. He was always sick to his stomach afterwards, but they were food.

Just as he was about to close his eyes to try and sleep again, he heard a voice.

"God damn, just look at this place. The entire town is a freaking disaster area." The voice was male, but it didn't sound like his Papa's. It sounded older, and a tad more gravelly. The faint scent of smoke drifted towards his nose, making him cough drily from the smell.

"It's a tragedy, who knows how many people could have died here." It was a woman this time, her voice was sweet and low, but it wasn't Mama. Another man's voice said something, but he couldn't make out what it was. "What was that, dear?" Dear, that was what Mama and Papa called each other sometimes. Could they have been Mama and Papa? No, they just didn't sound right. He strained to hear them as they talked amongst themselves.

"What do you think?" The other man's voice, younger-sounding, asked, The older man answered.

"Looks like fire demons, there's a lot of charring on the rubble. But I think I'm seeing some ghoul damage on the bodies we've found. From what I can see, I don't think we can hope to find anyone here." His eyes widened, they were talking about finding people! He was there! They could save him! He looked around desperately, then grabbed a nearby rock and threw it. It sailed out the entrance to his little hole, but by the sound of it, they didn't hear it.

"I dunno, Shiro. I don't think there's much we can really do here. Not anymore, at least." He threw more rocks in quick succession, until all those within his reach were gone. He stretched forwards to grab a rock on the far side of the puddle, but the weight pressing down on his back kept him from doing so. Then, when he tried to call out to them, his dry throat closed up on him, causing him to choke and cough. The older man spoke again.

"I don't like just leaving like this, but there's nothing more we can do here. Let's get going." The sound of footsteps crunching away reached his ears as they seemed to begin walking away.

No.

Wide-eyed and panicking, he clawed at the ground and desperately pulled at his trapped legs. The people sounded about ready to leave. They couldn't just leave him there to die. They just couldn't! His breathing intensified as he grew more frantic to escape, and his every breath was accentuated by a dry hack. Just as he was about to give up, run out of hope, the woman's voice sounded again.

"Wait, hold on a moment, Igor." Arthur paused, catching his breath in heavy pants.

"What's wrong, Michelle? Is something the matter?" There was a pause before the woman spoke again.

"I don't know what it is. It just feels like, I don't know, maybe there's something here we're missing." Yes! She knew he was there! They would help him get free and help him find his parents. He was saved!

"Ah, I wouldn't worry about it, Michelle. Probably just the ghosts of the old residents lamenting." Arthur was so shocked he couldn't move. He couldn't even make a sound as he heard them talking as 'Michelle' was being led away from there. He saw a man still in his view. His gray hair ruffled in the wind and, a spot of sunlight reflected off of his glasses. That man was the last person Arthur saw walk out of his field of vision, and then, they were all gone.

There was nothing left, no one else to help him. He let out a quiet sob. Then another. Soon, he had his face buried in his arms and was weeping.