Hope collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion pressing into his bones.
The mattress was firm yet comfortable—far better than the hard, uneven surfaces he was used to.
For a moment, he let himself sink into it, eyes fluttering shut, his body finally allowed to rest.
But then—
The memories came.
Like a slow-moving tide, they washed over him, creeping into the edges of his mind before suddenly crashing down with full force.
The Ashlands.
The fight for survival.
The moments when he had come seconds away from death.
His partnership with Kelvin and Walker—
Both of whom hadn't made it.
His chest tightened.
Kelvin's death was the hardest to process.
The man had saved him, risked his life to fight the corrupted fiend, and now… he was gone.
Just like that.
And Walker—
Walker's death haunted him.
He could still see it, playing on a loop in his head.
The way he had struggled.
The way the light had left his eyes.
Hope's fists clenched at his sides.
He didn't even realize he was staring blankly at the ceiling, his mind trapped in that endless replay of events.
The single light bulb hanging from the ceiling illuminated the room, casting a faint, sterile glow—
But it did nothing to chase away the shadows in his head.
Then—
A voice.
A voice in his mind.
It started slow—a whisper at the edge of his consciousness.
At first, he thought it was just his own thoughts, but then—
The words became sharper.
More pointed.
More accusatory.
"You killed them."
Hope froze.
A cold chill ran down his spine.
The voice continued, gaining momentum, growing louder, stronger—
"You let Kelvin die. You let Walker die. If it weren't for you, they would still be alive."
Hope's breaths quickened.
His fingers dug into the sheets.
"No…" he muttered under his breath, trying to push the voice away.
But it didn't stop.
It only grew louder, more suffocating, more overwhelming—
"You think you're innocent? You ran. You always run. And they died because of you."
Hope's chest heaved.
He felt like he couldn't breathe.
"Shut up," he whispered, but the voice only laughed, cold and cruel.
"Kelvin died protecting you. Walker died because of you. And you—you're still here. Why?"
His vision blurred.
Sweat dripped down his forehead.
His heart was pounding, his skin felt clammy, his whole body was trembling.
Then, all at once—
"SHUT UP!"
His own shout shattered the silence of the room.
He sat bolt upright, his breath ragged, his shirt sticking to his sweat-soaked skin.
His pulse was hammering, his muscles tense, as if he had just run for his life.
For a moment, he just sat there, trying to steady himself.
Trying to remind himself that he was here, in a room.
Not in The Ashlands.
Not fighting for his life.
Not listening to the mocking whispers of a world that refused to let go.
With a shaking breath, he muttered—
"I didn't kill anyone… I just… I just tried to survive."
But the silence that followed felt too heavy.
Too empty.
As if the voice was still there.
Waiting.