Eternal night. Emptiness. That's all I could feel. No matter how hard I tried to swim away from the darkness, the anchor chained to my feet only grew heavier. Every attempt to escape and make my way to the top was only met with more resistance.
It was a losing battle. It always had been.
So I stopped trying to fight it. My surrender suddenly made the numbness feel more welcoming. I let it wrap itself around me– allowing the pressure of this unknown force to drag me down.
The further I sank, the more distant the pain felt. There was still a sense of terror that accompanied this dark presence, but its weight was comforting, anesthetizing. I kept drifting, ready to hit the bottom. An end, at last.
But then I felt a sudden release. I was no longer shackled to the anchor.
Instead, a sharp stab on my arm propelled me back to the surface at an uncomfortably fast speed.
"I'm sorry," a voice whispered through the silence.
I couldn't grasp the intent behind the apology, but another piercing jab near the palm of my hand redirected my attention. The throbbing stings jolted me awake. My eyes flashed open for brief moment, but I couldn't see anything– there was still a dark haze enveloping them.
The breathlessness I'd been feeling in my lungs was overpowered by a more intense ache– no, a burn– taking over my arm. While the two stings felt pointed at first, they rapidly grew into a rolling boil that was spreading under my skin.
"It burns," I muttered to myself.
"I know," the voice replied.
Before long, a thrashing wave of fires hit me. My upper body tensed as the heat lashed at my fingertips. I dug my hands into the bed beneath me, but I might as well have been pressing them into a hot oven burner.
A piercing cry came out of my mouth. My voice was raging and uncontrolled, unable to get a grip on making any sort of coherent sound. Through the screeches and groans, I kept on trying to plea for help. My efforts were stymied as the burning encroached my throat.
Had I just been condemned to hell? These fires certainly felt more like the tortures of an underworld than a pleasant entry to heaven. I tried to think about the few times I had disobeyed my parents and whether those mishaps warranted an entry to endless purgatory, but I did not get very far before another series of sharp pangs continued attacking my upper body.
My chest thrusted upwards while my neck craned back abruptly. Everything ached, but I could at least feel my throat opening momentarily. I gasped for air and tried to speak again.
"Make it stop!" I begged, "PLEASE."
"I'm so sorry." There was a sense of pained desperation coming from the voice. "I promise it will be over soon."
The statement meant nothing when I could still feel the searing heat throbbing inside me. "It's burning!" I yelled. My vocal chords fried with every strained effort to speak.
It felt as if my upper body was trying to get away from its lower half to no avail. Would it ever end?
I strained to open my eyes, but the darkness kept shrouding them. Through the thick, black haze, I tried to picture my mother. Maybe at the end of this torturous experience, she would be there waiting for me. No, that would be too good to be true. This had to be my own personal version of hell.
The black veil wrapped itself tighter around me. While the blindness only added to my disorientation, there was a part of me that was thankful for this. If the pain I've felt has been insufferable thus far, I couldn't bear to see what was actually happening to me. At this point, I simply wanted to give in. Return to the numbness I had felt previously and let the infinite night take me away so I could finally rest. Yet no matter how hard I tried, the scorching heat of the flames would bring me back.
I let out another agonized scream. Despite my persisting cries for help, the calming voice no longer answered. I figured their absence meant there would be no way out of this nightmare– I was truly alone now.
Never did I think I would yearn to feel the numbness I had felt at the beginning of this endless journey. I could deal better with the terror of feeling nothing than the insufferable agony of being burned alive.
I drifted back and forth as the pain abused my consciousness. Thin fragments of memories with my mother would occasionally enter my thoughts and in those moments, I felt like I could find some sense of comfort in the fires.
But just as faintly as they would appear, they'd quickly dissolve from my grasp. I figured they were merely more tricks to enhance the torturous experience.
Prepared to face another wave of fires, my body stiffened defensively. They had made their way down my spine and into my legs– fully immersing me into a perpetual state of anguish. While my arms felt like they had been burning for quite a long time, the flames lashing my lower body held their scorching grip for what felt like eternity.
In another hopeless attempt to ease the pain, I put all of my mental energy toward determining where the fires felt the strongest. Though the heat continued to torch me just as hard as it did before, something did begin to feel different.
Slowly, I started to recognize the nuances of the burns. The way they coursed vibrantly through my veins, snaking between every minute tissue of my body like an intricately woven tapestry. What was once debilitating now began to feel invigorating. The pain never truly went away– if anything, it doubled– but at least I could begin to understand how it was affecting my body.
There was a sense of clarity that came with that knowledge. It was as if there was suddenly more room in my brain to ponder what was happening outside of my hellish situation rather than being purely overwhelmed by its physical torment.
That realization made it slightly easier to control my screams under the flames. At first, it felt necessary to yell and cry in response to the pain. The torture was relentless and screaming seemed like the only way to extinguish the fires. With time, however, the burning began to hold solidifying effect on my muscles. I wondered if my body was atrophying, except I still felt too much.
The petrifying heat ran its way once again from the source of the first stings on my arm, through my back and then to my feet. Along the way, I could feel my lungs… strengthening? It was getting harder to recall the details, but I could vaguely remember how I had been in a constant battle for air. The liquid filling my lungs had made it almost impossible to breathe.
The new burning made those fluids boil until they practically evaporated from my chest. At first, it felt as if a blowtorch was roasting my insides to turn them into ashes. To my surprise, however, the very opposite was happening. Every flame seemed to be providing a new layer of protection; hardening my lungs the way a blacksmith forges a new weapon with fire.
Even if it did feel like I was quite literally breathing fire, I did notice the heat had subsided from my fingertips. I must be nearing the end. That had to be the answer. While the pain still dominated the majority of my thoughts, I took note of a set of light footsteps approaching me. I could hear them so clearly– it was strange I hadn't noticed them before.
The tread stopped a few feet away from me. "It's working," the voice whispered in relief.
They came back! Though I couldn't understand the comment, it was heartening to hear them again. Perhaps I simply needed some time to reflect before the voice could guide me out of this prison.
Other comforts started to return as well. I could sense the dark shroud covering my eyes beginning to slowly fade away. It transitioned into a reddish, brown tinge.
My hearing also made a surprising comeback. There were a variety of sounds I could distinguish with acute detail now; one of them being my heart. It was unnervingly easy to listen to its frantic pounding, especially when every booming beat sounded more like a raging locomotive than my actual heart. None of it made sense. I was fairly certain I was supposed to be dying, not regaining consciousness.
Before I could let the thought linger, the footsteps got closer to me. A hesitant breath accompanied the motion.
"Edward? Can you hear me?" the voice inquired.
I tried to answer with a coherent "yes", but all I could manage was a weak, low moan.
"Everything is going to be alright."
While the words were smooth and reassuring, they still felt like a lie when the fires continued engulfing my heart. I didn't think it was possible, but the heat somehow got stronger the closer it got to my core. Knocking louder against my chest, my heart continued accelerating. With the way it hammered on, I was certain it would explode at any moment.
I tried to steer myself away from thinking about the blazing acid consuming my chest– the pain was still too overwhelming. Besides, my senses were now providing a sufficient amount of distraction to partially ignore it.
With every passing moment, the veil's weight on my eyes lessened. More light entered and I welcomed it. I twitched my fingers and was relieved to feel no traces of the fires in them. My hands slowly stretched themselves out on the bedsheets underneath me. I was surprised at how rough they felt, almost like sandpaper on my fingertips. They also reeked of salt and something musty. It was a repulsive odor that I couldn't quite place, but something about it smelled wrong.
The same steps I had heard before shifted again. There was some hesitance in the way they moved around me, unsure what to expect.
His heart is beating abnormally strong. The pain must be unbearable. Perhaps more venom would have expedited the process? I should take note of this…
The comment perplexed me. I was definitely in a lot of pain, but what did they mean by venom?
Again, more movement. This time to my right side. A chair ruggedly scraped on what sounded like wooden floorboards, then the person sat down and began scribbling something onto a notepad with a fountain pen.
180 beats per minute. The heart should be giving out soon. Poor boy, I can sense his pain. I hope this new life does not overwhelm him the same way it once did for me.
Apart from the incessant drilling of my heart, this individual's one-sided conversations were intriguing. I was unsure if they were addressing me anymore since the nature of their statements were no longer reassuring, but rather analytical. I stopped myself from responding, knowing very well I would likely start screaming from the pain again. I'd managed to keep the discomfort to some strained groans here and there, but I refused to be completely engulfed by the agony this time.
That resolution was unfortunately short-lived. The fires picked up, making my heart hammer incessantly and forcing my chest flare out. I was frightened by the growl I let out in response. It was feral and disturbingly loud– almost as strong as the rapid thumping of my heart. Someone might as well have been hammering the intensifying beat into my head. It only got louder and faster as the combustion increased.
The concentrated blazing heat entered a fatal dance with my heart. Every accelerated beat was met with even stronger thrashes of flames. It was a losing battle for the two, but they both continued to compete for the finishing blow. The fire took its last surge, sending the rushed pounding to a slowed gallop. My heart took three labored thumps, followed by a faint and final thud.
Then there was nothing. No pain. Bliss.
I finally felt the darkness release its grip from my eyes and opened them to let the light embrace me.
Heaven, I thought to myself.