I look back on the day it all started, wondering if I ever really had a choice. They say desperation makes people do crazy things—things they’d never imagine themselves doing. I used to think I was better than that but, a month of unsuccessful streaming and a huge amount of debts on my back was enough to change my mind.

  My name’s Marcus Calloway and it started as a crazy fantasy. I was looking up at all those successful streamers that were around the internet and all the money they were making. Some of them were not even entertaining at all and they were still making a living out of it. So I did what any fool with a dream does: I borrowed money from the bank, friends and even some people that I didn't even know very well and sunk it all into a state-of-the-art computer, mic, lights and high quality camera— anything that a top-tier streamer would need. All for the goal to become a famous streamer. Once I got everything, I used the little money I had left and rented a poor, small apartment in a really bad neighborhood somewhere in the city so I could stream without any distractions. That was a month ago, and to no one's surprise, streaming was not going well at all.

  I was not getting any viewers. Sometimes, I would get maybe 5 simultaneous viewers but they would quickly leave the stream after a few seconds. I tried to maintain my attitude. I tried to be as entertaining as possible but with the time passing my mood was starting to fade. I had one loyal viewer though, “GreenCats03” they were called. They kept trying to motivate me to keep streaming which was actually pretty nice to hear—still not enough to make me want to continue. And to make it all worse, I had to pay the money I had borrowed in two weeks. If I didn't meet the deadline, I was screwed for sure. But even with all of that in my mind, for some reason, I kept streaming.

  So this is how it ends now huh?” I said to myself on the stream.

  “Dropping out of college for a stupid dream sure wasn't the best idea.”

  That’s right, I'm a college drop out. I was majoring in political science when I was studying there in order for me to enter law school. All my parents ever wanted was for me to be a prosecutor like them. I am not going to lie, I was very good at college and I even thought that I could be a good prosecutor like them, but I didn’t want to be like them. I wasn’t sure of what I wanted to be, but I definitely didn't want to be a lawyer. That was when streaming blew up and it became a pillar in the entertainment industry.

  “I saw streaming as an opportunity to escape. Run away from law school, run away from my parents. I didn't want to be held by expectations I couldn't meet for them” I said.

  My parents got insanely mad when I told them I was dropping out of college and leaving the house, which was expected. Right now, I can’t blame them for the way they reacted.

  “How dare you give up this opportunity we gave you?” My father’s voice thundered, and his face brightened with anger and disappointment.

  “After paying your tuition for the past three years, you dare to disrespect us like this?” He shook his head, the disappointment heavy in his gaze.

  “Fine, do what you must then, but keep this in mind: Don't you dare to ever come back here if you don’t succeed” His voice, stern filled with finality, felt like a guillotine’s blade hovering my neck. I was three years into college and grades were looking acceptable. I nearly had everything ready for me to sign up for law school. But when they saw how I had just wasted all that time and opportunities, their reaction was not at all unreasonable.

  “I should’ve just finished college, I would at least have had a degree and maybe I could get a job.”

  “But now…” I glance at the viewer count—still just one. A frustrated sigh escaped from my lips.

  “Here I am, 20 years old, at the edge of failure.”

  I had good grades at college and I always managed to excel in my classes— because if I didn't, I would have to face the wrath and disappointment from my parents. I still did, in the end. But I didn’t care back then, because it was a decision I made, not them. I saw streaming as my chance of doing something— something that was mine. So why did I drop out of college, one year away, so close to building my future? I never had something of my own to begin with. Everything was always parents this, parents that. I craved independence. But that ended up being one of the worst mistakes in my life.

  A single message popped up in the chat:

  GreenCats03: Hey, Marcus, you’re still doing great. I understand what you feel but you can’t give up on it. You’ll become huge one day

  I forced a smile, despite the knot tightening in my stomach.

  “Thank you for the kind words GreenCats03, but I think I’ll end this stream for today. Hope you had a great time!”

  Soon after I said that I ended the stream and turned off the lights. I remember sitting there in that still brand new chair, staring up at the ceiling, completely drained. The only light in the room came from the computer screen, casting that cold, bluish glow over everything. It was almost like the room itself was fading, caught between the dim lighting and the shadows creeping along the walls. I couldn’t even hear myself think. The faint hum of the PC was always there, just barely louder than my own thoughts, but at that moment, I was somewhere else—detached, numb. I didn’t move, didn’t even look at the screen.

  For a while, I just stared at the ceiling. It was like I could feel the weight of everything pressing down, suffocating me. The silence felt louder than it should have, broken only by the occasional creak of the chair as I shifted. Funny how those details stick with you—something so small, like the buzz of a dying lightbulb in the corner or the cold air that never seemed to warm up. Back then, I couldn’t see it, but all those things were signs of how bad it had gotten. It wasn’t just me falling apart. The only thing keeping me in reality was the thought of all the mistakes I made at the time.

  “Is there really nothing I can do?” I told myself as I rubbed my eyes in frustration.

  “There has to be something.” I was trying to convince myself that there was still something left to do.

  So I researched all the possible options I could stream. I went to each of the different categories out there. A few seemed promising and others I knew wouldn’t work well at all. But I saw a specific one that called my attention and thought that it might’ve been a good idea.

  I decided to opt for IRL streams. I believed that going outside would generate more random situations that might get the viewers engaged. I thought about going to the city’s downtown and just walking around there and seeing what happens. I also thought of showing cultural spots that might interest people. Then there was this other option, urban exploration. It was a popular topic back in the days and it still was holding up to that time, so I went for it. I looked up places on the internet that I could explore and I stumbled across an abandoned factory that happened to be at the edge of the city. I saw some pictures of the place and it looked pretty nice. The place was not very popular too so people would definitely be surprised to see it. So that night, I went to sleep with the hope of getting some results tomorrow. Because if there wasn't, there wasn’t really much for me to do.

  I woke up the next day, getting ready for the exploration. It was Wednesday, still a week and a half away from the deadline. I didn’t have much money at the time, so I didn't buy anything besides a bottle of water. Since I didn’t have a video camera, I decided to use my phone for the livestream. I waited for the night to arrive because I thought that It would be scarier and look better for the viewers. As the night came, I was already on my way to the abandoned factory. I didn't have a car so I took a bus and it dropped me off not that far away from the factory so I walked there. Little did I know of what I was about to witness that day.

  As I was getting closer to the location, I decided to get ready for the stream. I opened up the streaming app, changed the stream category to IRL and I hit the “Go Live” button. I waited a few minutes for people to arrive and as usual, GreenCats03 arrived at the stream. Surprisingly, there were five other viewers too. Maybe changing the category attracted more people? I don’t really know. I had 6 live viewers. At the time, this was a huge milestone and I could barely hide my surprise. But I gathered myself up and did my introduction.

  “Hello people, tonight, we are doing something different. As you can see I am not inside my room. I'm in the middle of nowhere, and I am currently on my way to an abandoned factory” I explained as I was showing the surroundings.

  GreenCats03 is supporting my stream, like always. The rest of the people were not so eager to stick around. So I made an attempt to convince them to stay.

  “I know there are not a lot of you tonight… but you aren't gonna want to miss this.” I said as I was trying to hide how anxious I was at this moment. I couldn't afford to lose my chance of having an audience.

  “I was saving this place for something big. It’s got creepy vibes, and honestly, I didn’t want to do it alone. This is going to be interesting guys, I promise you.”

  And then, a message pops up in the chat:

  GreenCats03: Let’s trust him guys. I’ve been following him for a while. From how he’s describing it, I believe it sounds promising.

  And just with that, the viewer count remained static. No one had left the stream.

  ‘No way! This is actually crazy. Having such a loyal viewer like GreenCats03 is really helpful. Now I have to focus. I need to give my best performance yet’ I thought.

  After a few more minutes of walking and talking to the people, I had finally arrived at the abandoned factory. I can still remember how it looked. Completely shrouded in darkness. The moonlight casting eerie shadows across its crumbling fa?ade. The brick walls, once painted in bright colors, are now faded and peeling, revealing patches of rust and graffiti that tell stories of past lives. Broken windows, some jagged and others entirely missing, create a haunting silhouette against the night sky, allowing the faintest whispers of the wind to echo through the empty halls.

  “This is it guys, I told you it looked insane!”, I exclaimed. The chat was surprisingly very active and they even were demanding me to go inside and so I did, thinking about the importance of the success of this stream. This was not me following a dream anymore, not about me entertaining people. This was survival. If I failed that night, everything I had gambled would come crashing down.

  The factory, as expected, looked old and decayed. You could see that Mother Nature claimed the place back. Grass was growing again, and vines crept through cracks in the walls, almost painting the surfaces in green, adding a colorful but melancholic touch to the desolation. As I walked deeper inside the factory, I finally took a look at the rusting machinery, once shining with bright colors, now remaining here, muted by layers of grime.

  “Jesus Christ, guys, this place is huge.” I commented as my voice bounced off the crumbling walls.

  Despite the unease growing in the pit of my stomach, I couldn’t help but feel a thrill. With my phone’s flashlight being my tool to cut through the darkness, I advanced further. The air felt damp and carried a faint, metallic smell of rust and rot. Each step echoed slightly, making it feel like the emptiness was swallowing the sound.

  Conveyor belts led to nowhere, abandoned like everything else, crates scattered around bore faded labels. Whatever this place produced was long forgotten, the rust making it impossible to know. The audience was loving the stream, and honestly, so was I. Exploring this place turned out to be a very fun experience.

  That was until I heard it. A scream tore through to the silence. Sharp. Piercing. It echoed off through the factory walls. Sending chills through my spine.

  “What the hell was that? Did you guys hear that?”I asked the chat.

  It seemed that I wasn’t crazy. They all heard it. But some of them were instigating me to push forward. With a little hesitation, I kept going ahead.

  Silence filled the factory once again, tainting the atmosphere with a tense and cold sensation. My footsteps were the only thing that filled the silence at that moment, echoing through the desolated factory. And there it was again, but worse. A guttural, raw scream. As if someone’s soul was being ripped out. I remember how I felt at that moment. Frozen. Frightened. Struggling to breathe. I would’ve ran away at a moment, but I took a look at the chat and they were thrilled. Demanding me to go follow the screams. GreenCats03, however, was actively telling me this was a bad idea and that I should go back. I was about to do so, but then I glanced over the viewer count and to my surprise, over three-hundred people were looking at my stream. I was stoked. I couldn't believe that I managed to have so many people looking at my stream now.

  ‘I can’t back away now’, I thought. ‘With this many people, I can’t afford to disappoint them.’

  And with that thought in mind, I listened to the people and kept going forward.

  Once again, a scream came from the darkness. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it was almost as if they were begging. The scream was soon interrupted by a wet, violent thunk. A sickening sound, like it was meat being torn apart, echoing sounds once again, filled the decayed factory. The sound was followed by a heavy thud, as if something hit the ground and the grotesque sounds kept repeating. As I was getting closer to the sounds, my foot landed with a splash, but it wasn’t water. The coppery smell hit me first, then the sickening realization. Blood. My stomach churned, and for a second, I couldn't breathe. And much further in, I could also see a trail of blood. Right at that moment, I faced it, the reality of the situation, I had to expect it, judging from the screams, you could easily tell that something terrible was going on. But I didn't want to see it. I didn't see how bad this turned out to be.

  “O-okay, guys. I think that was enough for today. — I said,trying to cover my fear. “It has been a fun night! I’ll be ending the stream now. See you lat-.”

  I was interrupted by a notification on my phone saying: MrG0DSAim just donated $5!

  “No way! My first donation! Thank you so mu-.”

  I was interrupted again, by another donation. I quickly noticed that I had over 3000 people watching my stream. The donations kept coming and they were getting bigger bit by bit, I was gaining a bunch of money in seconds. But I also couldn’t believe people. They were itching for me to go forward and follow the trail of blood. It didn’t make sense. A person was being murdered, deep inside that factory. And they just didn’t care? It was just incomprehensible. They also wanted me to risk my life for it? All for morbid curiosity? It was just crazy. But at the same time, I wanted to take a step forward. Money was raining. And there were thousands of people watching my stream.

  I thought to myself: ‘Is this really something that I can turn down? Is this really ok with me? Is it really worth risking my life for this?’

  My thoughts were interrupted by another donation, but this time it was GreenCats03:

  GreenCats03 just donated $200! : PLEASE DON’T LISTEN TO THESE PEOPLE. JUST LEAVE PLEASE

  GreenCats03, my loyal viewer, the person who has always been there, was right, I should leave. I was convinced, almost convinced. But then reality hit me like a punch to the gut—my debts. All the money I borrowed to make this stream even possible, to make this dream real. If I didn’t pay them back soon, I’d lose everything. My mind raced. The rent was overdue, and the eviction notice wasn’t far off. I could already hear my parents’ voices echoing in my head, telling me I was a failure, that I never should’ve gone down this road.

  I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, trying to push the fear away.

  “No,” I muttered under my breath, my fingers trembling as they hovered over the end-stream button.

  I could’ve ended it right there—get out while I still could, maybe still figure things out later. But then another donation alert flashed across the screen. Another $50. And then $100.

  The money kept pouring in, and with it came the sound of my heart pounding in my chest. Was I really going to turn this down? Thousands of people were watching me, more than I ever dreamed of. This was the break I needed, the one chance to turn everything around. But at what cost?

  Even with that, I said while trying my best to hide my anxiety and fear: “Thank you for the kind donation GreenCats03, but sorry we got a lot of people here who are eager to see what's further in.”

  I took a step further, turned off the flashlight, muted the notification sounds and started following the blood trail.

  The sounds came back again, they were almost the same as before but now different. A wet, tearing noise ripped through the air, like fabric being shredded but now with a sickening resistance behind it. It was thick, almost muffled, but punctuated by sharp, grinding snaps—bone giving way under pressure. Each cut was followed by a squelch, a grotesque reminder that what was being torn apart was living, breathing flesh.

  The sounds got louder and repeated constantly. My heart was pumping faster and faster as I was walking deeper into the abandoned factory. My hands were shaking so hard that I couldn’t grab my phone properly. Then suddenly the sounds stopped. My breathing was accelerating, so was the fear of what I could find soon. I stepped into what seemed to be the room where the blood trail ended. I walk slowly and I peek inside a room and see something—something unimaginable.

  If you asked me what my biggest mistake in this story was, you could assume that it was dropping out of college—and you'd be right. But I’d argue that looking inside that room was the gravest of my errors. I knew deep down what awaited me, but I refused to accept it. Then I fell into reality and finally touched the earth when I saw what was inside the room. The darkness obscured much of the room. The moonlight was the only thing that was making it possible to see. But it was clear enough for me to see what was lurking inside the room.

  The room was painted crimson, and beneath that horrific hue lay the remnants of a human body—the torso, its head nearby, limbs sprawled around in a grotesque display. I felt like my heart stopped for as long as I looked at the body. I couldn’t breathe. As if my breath was trapped inside my throat. I was disconnected from the world. It was only me and the remains of what used to be a living person—someone with a life, goals, family, thoughts and desires. I started to wonder what that person was like. Maybe they were friendly and caring. Or maybe they were an awful and sour person. What could they have done to deserve this? Did they even deserve something like this? Someone that used to be human now rests here, in a dark room of a desolated factory. Such a place to live your very last moments—a place that used to contain memories of the past now contains the last minutes of life of this person. The fact that the moon is what illuminated the person leaves a symbolic but a somber and sorrowful sentiment.

  I can’t even correctly describe how I was feeling back then. Sick. Horrified. Almost senseless. My body was trembling and my eyes couldn’t stop looking at that person. The mix of the smell of rusted metal and the blood stained across the room created a nauseous atmosphere. Silence made everything worse, occasionally cut by the whispers of the wind. It almost seemed like the person was going to be speaking at any moment. My innocence wanted them to be alive again, but how could someone in such a horrible state would even be able to come back? I couldn’t make out if they were a man or a woman. Everything was so mangled and all over the place. It was unbelievable to think that all this happened minutes ago as I was exploring this factory.

  Finally, after what felt like hours—years looking at that person, my body started to react. I was starting to feel faint. I couldn’t hold myself up. As if the weight of the atmosphere was pushing me down, so the ground could devour me. My stomach was fighting the urge to vomit. I was trying to prevent myself from doing so. I was trying to keep my composure, but my body was losing control—betraying me. My heart was not beating fast but with strength, leaving a heavy, hollow feeling at the same time, followed by cold sweats running down my forehead. I tried to move, but my body wouldn’t respond. I was frozen. I felt condemned to look at that person for eternity.

  As I was about to give in and throw up, the sound of footsteps broke through the asphyxiating silence. Sweat began to pour from my body and chills ran through my spine. My eyes, previously fixed at the remains of the person, now were running throughout the room, looking for the source of the sound. I started to breathe uncontrollably, The atmosphere was suffocating me. I wanted to run for my life, but my body kept refusing to listen to me. My heart was beating fast, as if it was almost going to rip through my chest. As the footsteps grew closer, the air felt colder, heavier. The smell of blood and decay were now overwhelming, making it harder to breathe. I started to feel the taste of blood in my mouth, adding more to the nauseous feeling I had earlier. My hands trembled even harder than before. I was sure that people were not looking at anything clearly on the stream. The rustle of clothes and the slow footsteps getting closer were the only things cutting the silence, driving me insane.

  The footsteps echoing through the walls made it impossible to guess where they were coming. My vision began to blur, and shadows looked like they were moving. There was a sense of time slowing down. Seemingly, the footsteps felt unbearably dragging, evoking the agonizing feeling of dread. My brain was screaming for my legs to move, but they just wouldn’t listen to me. I was feeling dizzy and my legs wanted to give out. As though my body wanted me to die that night. I started to hear breathing. I thought the body was breathing again for a second, but it was clear that it came from what was getting closer. Becoming more distinct as the footsteps were louder. I jumped at every little sound I heard. The creak of the decaying metal or the howling of the wind.

  And then, a silhouette emerged from the darkness. Tall. Covered in blood from head to toe. As if he took a shower in blood. He was a man. Had long hair and he was wearing a large coat, a shirt, jeans and large boots. I clearly recall how I felt. I was ready to give up, and let my body give out. My panic was starting to fade, leaving me feeling empty, cold. It just didn’t feel real anymore. It had to be a nightmare. Why was I just standing here, witnessing horror? There had to be an explanation for that. My knees were shaking like never before. My legs were tiring out and my vision blurred even more.

  As if my body was shutting down. I noticed that the killer arrived at the room with a big duffel bag. I noticed that he was holding a handsaw, covered in blood, with his left hand. I quickly realized that he was carrying a bloody knife on a sheath attached to his belt. He took a look at the body as he carefully placed the bag on the floor.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  He took a deep breath of satisfaction, as though he was savoring the atmosphere that he had created. He then started to slowly walk circles around the remains, delicately observing his work. Him being covered in blood gave the feeling that he was blending in with the color of the room, like a chameleon.

  He put away the handsaw and pulled out his knife. He crouched and then stabbed the bottom of the torso. I can still vividly remember the squelching sound as the blade sank into the flesh, making a precise incision. The smell of blood filled the air, thick and suffocating. The sound echoed off the cold, decayed surfaces of the factory. He entered his hand into the open cut, then cut apart a piece of the insides. He calmly stood up and then gently proceeded to shove the piece into his face. He took a deep breath and let out a delighted sigh. In that instant, I blanched. I couldn’t look away. My mind felt numb, detached.

  Everything slowed down even more, as if I was sentenced to experience this. The room began to fade. I could barely differentiate one thing from another, everything becoming distant, unreal—like a dream. A sharp pain crawled up my neck, and my limbs grew heavy. My heartbeat felt deafening—unbearable to listen to. I felt like I was watching myself from afar, judging my actions. It was my fault. I had led myself into this. I began to question myself, my entire existence, questioning the reasons behind me being here, a tightening forming in my chest.

  Why? Just why? Why am I here? I don’t understand. Do I deserve this person’s fate? I thought.

  After all, I was broadcasting this person’s demise. I was no better than his murderer. It was for the money, right? After everything I had witnessed that night, would it ever be worth the money? I’ll never know. The killer then pulled out a black plastic bag from his pocket and placed the piece of meat inside it. Afterwards, he opened his duffel bag, revealing numerous cleaning products organized inside the compartments. I didn't think of it at the moment, but later, it struck me. It was curious to see that he had all those items prepared. It was clear that this wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this.

  The killer grabbed one of his cleaning products and carefully decanted it on the blood-stained floor. After he felt he had poured enough cleaning solution, he pulled out a sponge from his duffel bag. The killer pressed the sponge against the floor, scrubbing with a controlled intensity, each stroke deliberate but firm. Surprisingly, the blood was coming out very quickly without much effort. That cleaning product must be one of the best of all.

  Suddenly, I felt my body unleashing itself. My survival instincts finally kicked in, and adrenaline rushed through my veins. This was my chance. The killer was distracted, and there was no way he could catch me while being busy with the cleaning.I took three steps back. As I was retreating, I stepped on a loose piece of metal, which loudly clanged against the floor. The killer immediately stopped scrubbing and slowly turned his head toward me. At that moment, we made eye contact for the first time. Time stopped. Nothing else existed—no dead person, no abandoned factory. It was just us, staring at each other inside an empty, dark void. The air was cold, dry, suffocating. My heart raced like never before. Only my breaths filled the piercing silence. My body froze again. I knew I was dead here but I didn’t want to throw my life away. I wasn’t going to give up that easily.

  So for the first time in this entire situation, my mind made my body listen. I took one last step back, turned right, and ran.

  I ran faster than ever, heading for the entrance. The heavy thud of my footsteps echoed off the decayed walls of the factory. I didn’t dare look back; I just ran for my life. Hoping this last sprint of hope would save me. But it didn't take long before I heard another pair of footsteps pounding behind me— closer, relentless.

  ‘If I keep running towards the entrance, he’ll be right on my heels.’ A chill crept through my spine.‘There has to be a way to get out of this.’

  Then it hit me: running for the entrance was a death sentence. I had to lose him inside the factory. I turn sharply, veering deeper into the shadows, the sound of our footsteps reverberating through the cavernous space. Each echo seemed to awaken the long-silenced factory, a haunting reminder of my precarious situation.

  I had to be fast but cautious. Given that the factory was dimly lit by the moonlight, it was difficult to see what was ahead of me. Just one false step, and my life would be over. I couldn’t afford to make mistakes. I was hyperventilating, but my speed never decreased. Sweat dripped from my forehead, obscuring my vision even more and causing me to stumble a couple of times. Ultimately, it led me to drop my phone. I paid no mind to it. The stream was the least of my priorities at that point. I didn't care about it. You might believe that my mind was racing at this point, but at that moment, there was only one thing in my head: survival.

  The killer remained tireless, haunting me and following my trail—never taking his eyes off me, determined to catch me. After minutes of running, I stumbled across what seemed to be the storage room of the factory. The storage room was big, as expected from a factory, filled with hundreds of shelves that rose up to the ceiling. There was my chance. A maze-like area like this was my opportunity to lose him. I made sharp turns, zigzagging through the tight hallways of the storage room, trying to make him lose sight of me. Still, the killer never faltered. His shadow crept around behind me, always lurking, as if my attempts to escape were useless.

  I kept running deeper into the cramped storage room. In an effort to slow the killer down, I tipped over a small shelf that was nearby. He managed to get through it effortlessly. Nevertheless, I continued to topple shelves, successfully blocking his path. For now, I lost him. His footsteps faded into the distance as he searched for another way to reach me.

  I continued to move around, but slowed down my pace. Making the effort to not make a single sound. I finally obtained an advantage. Throwing it away would cost me all my chances of surviving. But unfortunately, I would soon lose it. I stepped on a weak, rusted part of the floor causing half of my leg to slip inside the hole I just made. The sound reverberated throughout the room. Heavy, desperate footsteps followed, approaching in my direction.

  My leg was stuck, I tried to pull but it just wouldn’t come out. He was getting closer. No matter how hard I pulled, I couldn’t get out. My hands were sweating. The sound of the footsteps were driving me mad, making it much more challenging to focus on the situation. In a panic, I kicked and punched the floor, desperate to widen the hole and free my leg. I started to see his shadow.

  ‘He’s close’ I thought, chills ran through my entire body. I started to shake. My vision blurred for a second. But after numerous attempts, I made a bigger hole. I quickly pulled out my leg and sneaked behind the shelves.

  He showed up. Any minor mistake would get me caught here. I slowly sneaked around the shelves as he was looking for me. His knife gleamed in the moonlight, hinting at how close he was. I tried to get away from him, moving into the rotten, dust-cluttered hallways inside the storage room, but he kept getting close, like he was following me. The air felt heavy and sharp. His slow but overwhelming presence kept drawing near. I was trembling in fear. I couldn’t stop my body from being scared. He took an abrupt turn and increased his pace, forcing me to move quicker, making it hard not to make even the most minimal sound. He knew I was there, and there is no way he was going to let me get away again.

  I anxiously looked around the area—an exit, an opportunity, a weapon. Anything. I was desperate. It wouldn’t take long before he caught up with me. Then I took a look at the immense, rusted shelves and saw my last shot at survival. I grabbed a piece of metal that was lying on the floor and threw it far in the opposite direction of the killer. He noticed the loud clunk and got distracted for just a fraction of a second—enough time for me to initiate my plan. With all my strength, I pushed one of the shelves in the killer's direction, causing it to topple onto another. Soon after, many of the shelves began falling on top of each other, like a row of dominoes, creating crashes that echoed through the entire factory as though a thunderstorm had erupted, leaving a heavy cloud of dust behind. As chaos overtook the abandoned factory, I took my chance and ran for the entrance.

  At last, after what felt like centuries inside that place, I was outside—finally able to breathe fresh air.

  I didn't stop running though. I couldn't be sure if the shelves hit the killer, so I never let myself pause. But exhaustion caught up with me very quickly.

  I wasn’t the most athletic person—I knew that—but I kept hoping I’d reach the city soon. Somehow, the sun was already starting to rise, and the city still felt like it was miles away.

  I got tired, and I couldn't run anymore. I was losing my strength with every step. I slowed down, eventually shifting into a stumbling walk.

  I could barely feel my legs. I was exhausted. I ran as much as I had never run before. My breath was ragged, my vision was hazy, and every muscle was screaming in protest.

  I was completely out of energy and almost about to faint.

  ‘Can I really make it? Would it even be possible for me to do this?’ I thought.

  ‘This is the end for me. I will die here, in the middle of nowhere.’

  I was losing hope. At that rate, it was just a matter of time until my body decided to shut down.

  I hadn’t realized just how far the factory was from the city, leading me to feel anxious, lost, like I was walking in circles the entire moment.

  I was walking on a lone road. Trees were nearby. The road felt endless. The trees made it feel like I was going nowhere, like walking on a treadmill.

  My surroundings turned indistinct. Every breath felt torn from me, harsh and uneven. It felt as if a void had opened in my lungs, swallowing each breath before I could catch it. I knew I couldn't stop, but my body could not answer me any longer. I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. A stunning headache overtook me, clouding all thought and perception. I forgot where I was for a moment. The sharp smell of the trees and sun-baked asphalt filled my senses, the only reminder of my whereabouts. Suddenly, everything turned black for what seemed to be an instant. I thought I was dead. After all that struggle, how could I not be? But there was a subtle but perceptible noise that pulled me back. So I slowly opened my eyes and I was immediately blinded by artificial light.

  I was looking around, confused, trying to identify where I was.

  “Ah, you’re awake.”, I heard. My hazy eyes tried to see where that voice came from.

  After aimlessly scanning through the space, my vision slowly began to recover. I saw a silhouette in white, a nurse I assumed. A strong smell of antiseptics invaded my nose, accompanied by the sound of beeping machines nearby. Soon I realized I was inside a hospital room.

  ‘So I didn’t die.’, I thought.

  I was feeling slightly dizzy and my body was quite sore. There was a lingering pain running from my feet, so I took a quick look and noticed that they were bandaged. Unsurprising. After running for so long, no wonder my feet were worn out. Everything still didn't make sense. I was very disoriented. I still didn’t know how I ended up there or how long I’ve been staying at the hospital.

  I was so dazed that I didn't notice the nurse had been speaking to me the entire time.

  “Hello? Can you hear me?” she said, getting closer as she began her checkup.

  As she approached, I could finally see her clearly—a small woman with a long black ponytail, holding a clipboard that probably contained notes about me.

  “You’re not hearing me, are you? It seems you’re experiencing some hearing loss.”

  “Wait, no!” I responded quickly. “I’m fine. I’m just… so confused. How did I get here? What happened to me?”

  “You were found by a truck driver, unconscious on the side of the road, dehydrated and exhausted,” she explained, glancing at the machines as if double-checking their readings. “We don’t have all the details yet, but you were lucky someone found you and called for help.”

  I felt a mix of emotions—relieved, maybe, or grateful? Embarrassed? Honestly, I didn’t know how to feel. Everything was still so unclear.

  “What do you mean, ‘you don’t have all the details’? Shouldn’t you already know what happened?” I exclaimed, frustrated.

  “You tell me,” she said, continuing to examine me.

  “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re the one who knows what happened, don’t you, Mr. Calloway?”

  “W-what?” I was utterly confused now.

  “Never mind,” she said, continuing her work. Asking questions only left me more confused than before.

  At that moment, I wasn't able to remember what happened at the factory yet. Any memory from it still felt so foggy. No matter how much I tried to remember, everything would just fade away. And certainly, the nurse wasn’t helping me sort through my memories.

  “How long have I been here?” I asked.

  “You’ve been asleep for two whole days since you got here.”

  ‘What? Two days… I’ve been sleeping for two days?’ I thought. ‘How? What has been happening ever since?’

  “Anyways, I gotta go,” she said while writing on her clipboard.

  “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake. He’ll be with you in a bit.”

  “Uh, sure. Thank yo—” and without even letting me finish my words, she left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts for a moment.

  ‘Damn it. What is going on? Why can’t I remember anything?’

  I was getting annoyed. ‘That freaking nurse. What’s her damn problem? Instead of taking care of patients, all she did was stress me out. What a shitty hospital.’

  I let out a long, exhausted sigh. ‘Well, there’s no point in wasting time thinking about things that will confuse me more. I’d better relax now and focus on getting better, on getting out of here.’

  And just as I was lost in my own thoughts, someone walked inside the room.

  From his long white coat, blue tie, and formal shirt, I could tell he was the doctor the nurse mentioned: A man, tall, confident, with curly brown hair and a clipboard in hand, like the nurse.

  The doctor looked around the room full of patients and eventually approached me.

  “Marcus Calloway?” he asked as he checked his clipboard to confirm he got the right person.

  “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “Good! It’s nice to see you’re finally awake Mr. Calloway. I’m Dr. Smith,” He glanced at the IV drip, making sure the serum was flowing correctly. “Now, tell me,” he continues, easing himself on the edge of the bed, ”how're you feeling?”

  “Spent, like a thousand stones fell on me”

  “That’s expected given how long you’ve been out”, he replied, taking notes on his clipboard. “You’ve been asleep for two whole days, Mr. Calloway.”, he looks back at me and says, “Did Ms. Allen tell you about how you were found?”

  I assumed he was talking about that nurse. “Yeah, she did. She also made sure to make a have a nerve-racking session of confusion and left without giving me explanations”

  Dr. Smith lets out a light laugh. “That does sound like Ms. Allen alright.” He looks at my legs for a second. “How about your legs and feet?”.

  I quickly glance at my feet. “The muscles on my legs feel so sore that I can barely move them. My feet hurt,not sharp—pain, more like a constant nuisance I can’t forget”

  “I see…”, he continues to scribble on his clipboard. “Now tell me… do you remember what you were doing that made your feet get damaged like they are now?

  “I don’t- I don’t know.” I squinted my eyes, trying to make an effort to remember something. “All that comes back to me is the fact that I was running but… from what? Why? I just… can’t remember anything. Everything is just blank”

  The doctor finishes making annotations on his clipboard. “Hey now, don’t tire yourself by making too much effort. You’ll have plenty of time to remember. But for now… you need to rest. Doctor’s orders.”

  His gentle voice helped me calm down.

  ‘Heh, what a contrast. Compared to that awful nurse, this guy is so nice. Maybe this hospital isn’t doomed after all.’ I thought, looking up to the ceiling, trying again to remember the factory.

  My attempts were pointless—no matter how much I reached for those memories, they would just slip out through my fingers, always just out of reach.

  I let out a deep, frustrated sigh, and turned to the doctor. “How much longer do I have to stay here?”

  “As long as you have to, Mr. Calloway.”, he replied, glancing at his wristwatch. “But don’t worry, I can assure you it won’t be too long. I understand that celebrities like yourself need to get back to work quickly.”

  “Celebrity?” I asked, even more confused. “What do you mean by ‘Celebrity’, doctor?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough, Mr. Calloway. Now, rest.”, he stands up and walks towards the exit of the room. “Ms. Allen will come back later today to apply more medicine to your feet”

  “No, doctor. Wai-”

  “Oh, by the way,” he stops and turns back to me. “There are some police officers that are looking to speak to you, Mr Calloway.”

  “What? Me? Why would the police want to speak with me?”

  “That’s for them to tell you. See you tomorrow, Mr. Calloway,” Dr. Smith left the room, without another word.

  The rest of the day I spent it staring at the ceiling, trying to find any sort of piece that could fit into the memories in my mind. As much as I tried to tell myself to stop wasting my energies trying to catch the nothingness, I kept finding myself trying to remember.

  ‘What happened two days ago? Why did I have to run? Just why, why can’t I fucking remember.’ I let out a deep sigh, feeling the familiar tightness creep into my chest and my fingers twitched against the hospital blanket.

  The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, a small reminder of how trapped I was in that hospital. Even the rhythmic beeping of the machines were getting on my nerves.

  I was losing my patience already, and it hasn’t even been a day since I’ve been awake. ‘Celebrity… Why would the doctor call me that?’ That word kept echoing in my head. ‘How could I possibly be a celebrity? What could I have done for someone to call me that?’ The thought of me being a celebrity at this point was impossible. I mean, how could I ever be a celebrity when all I had was one viewer, right? That would be the most logical question, and it would be correct. But there was no logic behind all the events that unwrapped in that abandoned factory. Nothing made sense, and it still doesn’t to this day.

  And then the thought came back at me. ‘Oh shit, how could I forget about it; the freaking debts. What day is it?’

  “Shit shit shit” I muttered.

  ‘I don’t know how much time I have left. I still haven’t earned a penny from streaming. And now the damn hospital.’

  “FUCK”, I was losing it. I began to punch the bed repeatedly, which started to annoy the other patients in the room. The pain in my feet that seemed to never go away was still there, but my rage decided to ignore it.

  ‘I’m not going back to them. I AM NOT going back to them’. My hands tightened into fist, and my nails dug into my palms.

  ‘I cannot prove them right, I can’t. But jail….No, no, no, I can’t go to jail. There has to be something for me to do. There has to be.’

  The fear from either going to jail or facing humiliation from my parents dominated me. I felt desperate, hopeless, after having exhausted all avenues to my understanding at that moment, I fell into a trap that I led myself into. I couldn’t control my breathing, I felt suffocated, and soon I started to sweat from my forehead. My vision turned blurry and I started to feel dizzy.

  That combination of sensations felt familiar for a second, like I was in another place, somewhere distant, cold. For just a fraction of a moment, I felt it, but I decided to bury those thoughts for now. I began to notice that I was losing control. I couldn’t let myself lose it—not here. So, I forced myself to take a deep breath, fill my lungs with air, in an attempt to clear the fog in my mind.

  “Come on, Marcus. Think, think, for fuck’s sake,” I said to myself, closing my eyes and pulling my hair. “What can I do? How can I fix this? How can I—”

  “Mr. Calloway!” A shout resonated around the room. I turned toward that familiar tone of voice.

  It was the nurse, Ms. Allen, both hands on her waist. “What’s all this ruckus about? Can’t you see you’re disturbing everyone here?”

  “I—I, uh…” I looked at the people in the room, all staring at me. “I’m sorry.”

  Ms. Allen approached me. “If you keep making noise, we’ll have to transfer you to another room. And I assure you that in your current state,” she glanced at my legs and feet, “it’s not going to be a pleasant experience.”

  “Okay, okay. I get it”

  “You better.” She grabbed a medkit from under my bed, which contained an assortment of medicines. “Now that you’ve dragged me here, I might as well apply the medicine to your feet.”

  She crouched and carefully began removing the bandages from my feet, taking her time to ensure I didn’t feel any pain in the process. Once the bandages were off, a burning sensation spread across my feet, like someone had lit a candle and held it too close. The pain was sharp, but I tried to pretend it wasn’t there. Ms. Allen, however, noticed my discomfort with ease, catching the slightest flinch in my expression. It only emphasized how much experience she had in her field.

  “You don’t need play lion with me,” she said, her tone sharp but not unkind

  “W-what? I don’t know what you are—”

  “You know.” Ms. Allen pulled out various containers from the kit, and began applying multiple ointments to my feet. ‘Heh, of course, she saw through me’, I thought. ‘I can’t even hide anything’. I laid down on the bed while she was doing her work, my gaze drifting to the ceiling again. I never understood why I would do this all the time. Maybe because it’s my only way to avoid facing the reality I’m in. Just a flat, unicolor surface, not much to make out from that— and that’s good for me. Just a small amount of simplicity, the perfect amount that I would need in a life like mine. ‘I can’t lose myself out like that. What’s happening to me?’, I thought. ‘But the debts, lawsuits, prison, my parents… How am I supposed to handle everything?’

  “Pain’s better out in the open, Mr. Calloway. Otherwise, it festers,” she said.

  Her words resonated with me. She wasn’t just pointing out my physical pain anymore. She knew. She saw through the mask I was trying so hard to wear. I looked at Ms. Allen for a moment. Her hands worked gently, smoothing the cold ointments on my feet. When she noticed my gaze, our eyes met for a brief moment. Deep down, I almost wanted to tell her how badly I’d screwed up my life. Almost. But instead, I decided to keep my pathetic act up, despite her already having figured me out.

  “Like I said, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. Her eyes turned irritated, and she let out a disappointed sigh.

  “Fine. Have it your way, Mr. Calloway.” She put the ointments back into the kit and stood up.

  “Well, I’m done. How’re you feeling now?”

  The ointments worked much better than I had expected at the time. The burning feeling still remained, but it was close to imperceptible.

  “Great, actually. I don’t feel the burning anymore, at least.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Ms. Allen grabbed a brand-new roll of bandages and wrapped up my feet again.

  “Alright, I’ll come back tomorrow to apply more of the ointments to your feet.”

  “Okay then.”

  “And don’t start giving me more trouble again, Mr. Calloway”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Also, could you stop calling me that way? It makes me feel old. Just call me Marcus.”

  She scoffs and a smile grows on her face. “See you around, Marcus.”

  As Ms. Allen was about to leave the room, a thought struck my mind.

  “Wait!”

  “Hm?”

  “Dr. Smith mentioned something about being a celebrity. What is that about?”, I asked.

  “You’ll find that out soon enough, you should rest. The police will explain everything to you tomorrow.”

  “But I—”

  “Trust me, Marcus.” She interrupts me. “It’s better for you to rest now”

  “Could you just—” my frustration rose, desperation notable in my voice.

  “Please, Marcus. Forget about it.”

  Her voice was stern. She was holding something back—I knew it. I could see it in her eyes. But I opted to let it go. It was obvious that I wasn’t getting any information out of her.

  “Fine,” I said, visibly upset.

  ‘Fucking nurse, just when I thought she was being nice. She’s still as awful as earlier.’

  Today, I thank her for not saying anything at that time. I appreciate her efforts to keep me from breaking down any further.

  Ms. Allen was about to leave the room, but I wanted to ask one last question.

  “Wait. Do you happen to know where my phone is?”

  “What phone?”

  “My phone. It’s got a blue case on it. I always have it with me.”

  “We didn’t find anything in your pants besides your wallet and ID.”

  “Are you sure? Because I—”

  “No. Goodnight, Mr. Calloway.”

  Ms. Allen turned off the room’s lights and left.

  ‘She sure loves interrupting me, huh? What a dick. She even went back to calling me mister.’

  I sat down on my bed and leaned to the side so I could find the window and look outside.

  ‘Damn, so it’s really nighttime. Time flew away with that nurse.’

  I lay back down on the bed and wrapped myself up in a blanket.

  ‘Shit. Now what? I really need that phone. Heh, I could’ve done a hospital stream and tried to gather donations to pay the hospital bill. That would’ve been great. Wait. Ugh, the damn hospital bill. Fuck.’

  I squeezed the blankets in irritation.

  ‘There goes another fucking debt to the collection. Damn it. Damn it Damn it. SHIT.’

  I let go of the blankets and took a deep breath.

  ‘Calm down, Marcus. Calm down. At least the damn nurse is right in one thing—I do need to rest. I’ll see how I can handle it later. Or well, let’s see if it's even possible.’

  Before going to sleep, I made one last attempt to remember what happened. I searched for anything I could grasp in my memories. But the harder I tried, the more everything slipped away, fading farther into nothingness.

  ‘Crap. What am I even looking for? There’s nothing to help me remember. Why am I here? What did I do? Why can’t I remember?’ I thought.

  ‘Well, I better stop bothering with it. I’ll get answers tomorrow.’