6 | Alive (I)

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He opened his eyes

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He opened his eyes.

Shouldn't be possible, should it? Do people retain their eyelids in death? Was this what the afterlife looked and felt like? He was floating; his body seemed to be suspended in still waters. It's only going to be a matter of time before he loses control and plunges into the unknown depths once more. He waited for it and tried to get his lungs, limbs, or anything, to work. It didn't come. He's still floating. Floating to where?

Why did the afterlife have a blue ceiling?

Slowly, feeling returned to his muscles. By the stars, how tired and heavy they were. His chest was tight as if a sugrarsask was sitting on it; his neck felt like it was made of iron. It had taken him a while to realize that he was not floating. Rather, he was lying on his back on a bed of dry straws.

Straws. He knew he should hate it. But why?

"I see you are awake," a female voice said somewhere to his left.

He turned his eyes towards that direction despite his neck protesting against it. His breath hitched as great pain washed over his whole body. A weak groan escaped his lips.

"Do not force yourself, Ceris," the voice said again. His eyes refused to register anything except blurred spots of blue, green, and brown. He knew the names of the colors, how fun. Ceris...was that his name?

"You are still healing from your fall," the voice continued, its smooth and silky tone lulling him back to sleep. Sleep was good, right? "You should be feeling quite sore right now. I have done all I can to speed it up. The rest is up to you."

What happened?

The question speared through his mind like lightning on a stormy night. Panic squeezed his throat when he realized that where his memories were supposed to be was just a black, blank wall. He pushed himself up, wincing at the pain exploding in his gut. His world tilted and spun.

"Ceris?" the voice called.

He breathed once, twice. His chest heaved as sweat poured off his back and beaded on his forehead. Fingers clutched against his head but even those felt weird against his skin. They seemed to be skinned off completely. Remember. He had to remember. What happened?

Remember. Why was he alive? He shouldn't...

His eyes widened as something clicked. His breaths shuddered. Yes, he shouldn't be alive. He shouldn't be here. This wasn't how it's supposed to be. So how was it supposed to be? A sly voice echoed at the back of his head, taunting him. His heartbeat grew faster until it was pounding against his temples and ringing in his ears.

How was it supposed to be?

Remember!

A cry of pain tumbled off his lips as he fell from where he was perched. He had to figure it out. Where...

He sprawled on the cold, hard ground. His vision blurred and sharpened, over and over. His limbs felt as if a thousand knives were being stabbed and twisted into them. "Ceris!" the voice called again. That's not...

COF 5: The Secret RaceDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora