***
{Inside The Projection}
Malik gasped, staggering back as the world righted itself, the white fading.
His body—his real body—felt heavy, drenched in sweat.
His breathing came fast, uneven, a state unfamiliar.
Faqir stood before him, watching.
Smiling.
"That…
Malik swallowed.
"What the fuck was that?"
Faqir spread his arms slightly, as if to say, 'You asked.'
"You wanted to know about my life. Now you do... what a life, huh?"
Malik stared at him, heart pounding.
For the first time in a long time…
He didn't know what to say.
Just utterly speechless.
Still, the main elements of what happened weren't too surprising.
Back in Zawaya, he had seen a similar story play out too many times, though they were much, much... softer.
Different names, different faces, different circumstances, but always the same type of struggle.
People who thought they were fighting for freedom only to end up as slaves to a new master.
