"It hurts..."
The thought never left Ren's mind. It wasn't just pain—it was his entire existence.
The constant agony of his failing body.
How long has it been?
Days? Weeks? Months?
Time had lost all meaning in the sterile white walls of the hospital.
The same blank ceiling. The same buzzing machines. The same hushed voices from the hallway, whispering as if he couldn't hear them.
"He's not going to make it much longer."
"It's best to keep him comfortable."
"Poor kid."
Ren clenched his teeth, his fingers clawing into the stiff sheets as a wave of pain surged through his entire body.
There was no relief. No moment of peace.
This wasn't living. This was torture.
His gaze flickered to the machine beside him—the one pumping air into his lungs, the one keeping his useless body tethered to this cruel world.
He wanted out.
Not because he was weak. Not because he was afraid.
But because there was nothing left.
The doctors couldn't save him. His body wouldn't heal. His future had already been erased.
"I just...want it to stop."
His fingers trembled as he reached out for the chord. His heart pounded as his fingertips made contact, taking one final shaky breath.
He was done.
With a resolute pull—
Hiss
The machine exhaled its last breath. The beeping slowed. The air grew thinner.
And for the first time in a long time—Ren felt something close to relief.
"It's over...finally"
His vision darkened, as his frail body sank into the mattress. His mind drifted away, slipping into a quiet emptiness.
Darkness swallowed him.
An infinite abyss.
Weightless.
Silence.
No sound, No pain, No self.
This was peace. This was—
No
It cracked.
The void shattered, a wrenching force pulling him out of the abyss. He gasped for air, his lungs burning as if he'd been drowning.
Then—
Ren's eyes snapped open.
His fingers twitched, sinking into the ground beneath him—not sheets, not a mattress.
Ren's breath hitched as he sat up, taking in the newfound nightmare surrounding him.
This wasn't right.
This wasn't death.
"Wh-what the hell..." His voice cracked.
The crimson sky twisted from above, flickering with embers that never fell. Surrounding him, jagged, blackened trees loomed in every direction, their back peeling like charred flesh.
"No...no, no, no, this isn't real," Ren whispered to himself, his eyes widened in shock. "I was—I was in the hospital. I was dying. I was—"
He paused and swallowed hard, his fingers clenched around his throat. His breathing was too even, too steady. There was no pain. There was no weakness.
"I can...I can breathe?"
The pain that had defined his existence for so long—gone.
When Ren stood, his legs shook beneath him, as if they hadn't borne weight in years. He then froze, staring down at himself. Instead of his usual hospital gown, he found himself wearing a tattered cloak, its ashen fabric frayed at the edges.
"Where am I? What is this place?" His voice shook as he turned in a circle, trying to make sense of this world.
He should have been dead. He had made sure of it.
And yet, he was here.
Wherever it was.
Then—
A growl, low and guttural, echoed from behind.
Ren froze in fear, a shiver running down his spine. As he turned to face the sound, they stepped into view.
Glowing red eyes.
Not one. Not two. Dozens.
Ren's heart dropped.
Wolves
Or things that had once been wolves. Their bodies were stretched too thin, ribs protruding through the matted fur. Their jaws hung open, too wide, revealing rows of jagged, rotting teeth. And their eyes—burning, ember-red eyes—never blinked.
They weren't just hungry.
They were starving.
Ren took a slow, shaking step back.
The leading wolf lowered its head, black saliva dripping from its maw.
As he turned to run, the wolves lunged forward.
Ren didn't even have time to scream before the first set of fangs pierced through his shoulder with a gruesome crunch, the force sending him stumbling to the ground.
He gasped in agony, his breath choked by the suddenness of the attack. His hand shot out instinctively to try to pull away, but the wolf's teeth were embedded too deep, sinking into the bone.
A second jaw snapped onto his leg, shaking its head to tear at the flesh. Then another, clamped onto his forearm, crunching through muscle, twisting—ripping.
"Get off—!" He pleaded, but the words were lost in a cry as a wolf dug its teeth into his ribs, cracking them with sickening force. The air left his lungs in a cruel rush.
One wrenched his left arm back, ripping it clean from the socket.
The pain surged as the wolves tore into him from every side.
Snapping bone.
Tearing muscle.
Their claws raked away at his flesh.
Searing pain flooded his senses, as hot blood spurted across the ground.
"Please! Please! Get off! Get off me!"
Ren's mind went blank as something sharp gouged into his stomach, a snout burrowing deep into his organs. His ribs cracked as the wolf dug deeper into his chest cavity, wrenching its head back with something in its mouth. Through its bloodied teeth, Ren saw it—his own heart, still beating, still pumping blood.
"I can't! I can't..."
He cried.
He couldn't breathe.
He choked, gurgling on his own blood as his body tore apart.
Then—
A final snap.
A crushing bite to the skull.
And then—
The wolves stopped. All at once.
Above in the crimson sky, a swarm of crows flew across in a disjointed pattern.
The wolves' ears then spiked up simultaneously as if they sensed something in the distance. The pack turned and ran—fleeing in the same direction the crows were headed, as though some unseen threat was heading their way.
Now alone, Ren struggled to breathe on the cold ground, blood pooling beneath him.
He should be dead.
He had felt them tear him apart.
He had felt himself die.
But he wasn't dead.
Not yet
His body—broken, torn apart—was regenerating.
Slowly
Painfully
His shattered bones began to shift, realigning themselves with a sickening grind. Muscles and tendons harshly stretched back into place.
Ren clenched his teeth, gasping for air. His body was healing, but it didn't feel like recovery.
It was torment.
Each part of his body stitched itself back together with brutal force.
And he felt all of it.
His heart started beating again, but it felt like an invasion.
"Stop," He whispered, his voice weak. "Please…"
But the healing didn't stop.
It couldn't.
His body was forcing itself to live again, even if he didn't want it.
When it was over, Ren stayed down, tears rolling down his cheeks.
He hadn't been brought back to life. He had been forced to live.