Resurface--Bess

 

He opens his eyes, confused. He’s only met with more darkness as if he’d never opened his

eyes at all. He frowns, rising to his feet.

Something’s…wrong. He isn’t in his room anymore. He would know if he was. He knows his

prison and the darkness it brings when They call Lights Out.

Yet, this kind…differs from the usual.

The darkness he’s accustomed to is dim, lonely, but he knows that the constants of his life

remain. The plush white walls confining him still exist in the darkness, almost visible from how

pristine they are. The door is still there, impenetrable, the only window in the room attached to it

and closed as usual.

He himself still exists, covered in scars that could tell a lifetime of stories, yet empty of anything

that made him feel human.

But this darkness feels suffocating. It devours him, swallowing him whole. In here, it’s lonelier

than ever, desolate and devoid of life.

And that’s when the boy realizes where he is.

He groans as he ventures further into his mind, feet echoing in the emptiness of the place.

There was always this tug, this feeling that there should be something here, anything. And sure,

speaking in technicalities, he had the memories of this facility, the glimpses of people he’d never

known, but they held no weight, no meaning. They weren’t him. Rather, it was almost as if

they’d been shoved in place of what should make him up, yet he, for the life of him, couldn’t

figure out what they’d taken the place of.

The even thump, thump, thump of his footsteps seem to be amplified in the dark abyss, their

echoes bouncing off the infinite black.

He wishes to feel something more, something other than this inexplicable hole in his chest, this

gap in his mind that seems to span for miles and miles and miles and miles.

He calls out, knowing what the answer will be.

His call is met with silence.

He calls out again.

“HELLO?!”

His call is met with silence.

Frustration builds up within him, filling his lungs. Frustration that’s usually tempered and forced

back down now comes roaring out of him, a beast relishing in its release.

“Why is it so empty in here? I search and I crawl and I scream inside this damn place I’m

supposed to be able to control but there’s nothing. There’s nothing HERE. THERE’S NOTHING

HERE–!”

Movement.

He whirls his head around, eyes wide, shocked.

Was that…?

He furrows his brow, staring out into the endless black.

He was sure he saw something, just a quick flash of something…

“...Hello…?”

Once again, his question is met with silence.

He hesitates, eyes focused on the abyss before he takes a step forward.

Thump.

And there, from the darkness, from absolutely nothing, comes a spark.

A brilliant flash of light, red and burning bright, appears before him.

His mouth hangs open in awe from the beauty of color, red against this unending black, bringing

light into the darkest regions of his mind. It’s a small light in comparison to the place it resides in,

but it’s present, living and breathing as he is.

The darkness in his mind had finally given way to something so…so bright, so beautiful, so

mesmerizing in the way it dances in the unseen breeze.

That flicker of red flame beckons him. He can hear a voice, a voice that stirs something deep

within him, yet he can't figure out what it is, who it is, why it seems to beckon him forward.

The flame grows dimmer. He runs. He has to reach this flame. The pounding, the incessant

pounding in his chest, the blurred darkness around him, it all pushes him forward.

This dimming flicker of light, insignificant as it seems, starts to spark something in him,

something that feels like it has been lying in wait for years.

The darkness begins to give way to distorted shapes, twisted sounds, cacophonous images. It's

chaos, but he's never felt more like himself than in this moment.

As he reaches out for that flame once more, he grasps the burning light in his hands, squeezing

it as if his life depends on it.

His hands glow white, a white so brilliant he has to shut his eyes. White flames spread from his

hands to his torso, igniting him with pure light. It's hot, bright, terrifying, yet he's never felt so

whole, so present, so alive outside of this moment.

White flames spread from his body to the darkness, hungrily swallowing everything in their path.

It's almost too much, his body, his mind burning with so much energy.

But in the white inferno comes a voice, small and dim.

He pulls his hands towards his ear as the white glows brighter, grows hotter.

The voice whispers to him softly.

"Remember."

- - -

The boy awakes with a tear-stained face and a heart pumping with blood.

A heart pumping with life.

His mind is ablaze with memories, although fleeting and blurry, memories that make him who he

is.

Someone had given him an answer at last, he realizes, as the voice of that flame echoes in his

mind.

“Remember.”

He quickly wipes his face, body trembling as he stumbles to his feet.

These white walls would not hold him forever.

He’s getting out of here, whether They like it or not.