It took a while before my anxiety-fueled thoughts started to cool down.

After allowing my brain to go in every direction possible, including the ones where I thought multiverses were real and I had somehow crossed from one universe to another, I grew tired of thinking. I had reached the point of exhaustion and further rumination became repetitive.

My mental energy had reached an all-time low that I didn't think was possible. Somehow, I felt even more dead than I already felt — as if someone was about to lower me into my grave any second now. It was only then that the hunger pains began and I realized I hadn't eaten in a while.

My stomach felt like an abyss, and it growled as loudly as my internal screaming. When did I last eat? It felt like forever ago. Surely, wherever I was, someone would have to feed me. Even prisoners could rely on getting something resembling food on a regular basis, so why not me?

Why hadn't I been fed in all the time I've been here? Why had I been left to wonder? Or was it because I ran to feed my hunger for knowledge that my hunger for sustenance went ignored?

The more I focused on my hunger, the more the pain in my stomach grew until it was nearly unbearable. If I didn't find nourishment soon, this weak body of mine may not last long enough. How could I strive for more if I couldn't meet the basic requirements of being a human being?

As much as I didn't want to postpone my freedom, food would have to take priority for now. Maybe if I looked around more, I'd find a way to feed myself and then, resume the search.

The sooner I found a way out of here and back to my former self, the sooner I could let go of the here and now. Of the fear and confusion. Of the endless white walls and the emptiness within.

My lack of planning would be my undoing. Running made sense earlier, but running where?

I was lucky that when I came back to where I started, there was no one waiting for me. Next time, I wouldn't be as lucky. Next time, if I ended up back here again, anything could happen.

Daring to venture out again, I stepped outside the room, legs wobbly, and started walking. This time, I didn't run. I walked slowly, hoping that if I was careful, I'd find a pattern I missed earlier.

I didn't have to stare long at the walls before it jumped at me. Each of the doors had a label engraved in the wall next to them. Despite it being written using letters I could recognize, I couldn't decipher any meaning from it. It seemed to be written in some kind of code.

The bathroom that I was just in had the label TR42 written on the wall next to its door. The room a few feet away had the label of WR85. Each door I kept passing had equally confusing labels. After walking for a while, I eventually reached one that I could finally understand:

STORAGE

Although the door appeared to be closed from the outside, I knew that looks could be deceiving. I reached for the door handle, and to my surprise, it opened. A quick glance inside revealed that there was no one there. For now, it would be a safe place to investigate and rest.

As soon as I closed the door behind myself, the room lit up and the fluorescent lights that I had become so used to turned on. Shelves upon shelves lined the walls, each filled with boxes. The middle of the room was empty — probably to give enough walking space between the shelves.

Towards the back of the room, there was a small window covered by thin white curtains. I walked over there, fascinated by the idea of something foreign. An outlet to the outside world.

It was hard to believe that one still existed — that a world continued to revolve and go through its motions while I remained dormant, waiting to see what would become of me. Where could one go from here? Either I'd somehow find a way out or I'd be sent back to the empty white room.

I pulled at the curtains, drawing them away from each other. With them out of the way, I leaned forward and peered through the now exposed window. There was no latch to allow it to be opened. Escape through this way wouldn't be an option. I sighed and continued to stare outside.

It was much darker than I expected. Maybe the early hours after midnight given how quiet the building was. All I could see was the vague outlines of trees. The light of the moon barely illuminated my view. It was only a tiny sliver in the sky compared to its size when full.

The moon was once whole, cycling between absence and presence in varying degrees. In some ways, I could relate to the moon. Maybe I was once whole but lately, I felt like I was losing myself. Or that I had already lost pieces of myself. Maybe escaping was key to regaining who I was.

I wished to be whole again — like the moon, I will regain the pieces I lost.

My stomach grumbled and I remembered why I was here again.

Tearing my gaze away from the moon that had held my gaze constant for so long, I looked back at the shelves. There were so many boxes. How would I know which one had what I needed? What if, after searching through all of them, I didn't find anything edible? What if I got caught?

Though, was being caught the worst thing in the world? I ran, almost as if on instinct, before, but was running the right choice? What if I was making things worse for myself? What if—

Before I could spiral again, I forced myself to focus. Spiraling would get me nowhere except lost in my thoughts and drowning in a sea of emotions too turbulent to navigate safely.

I walked between the two walls of shelves, glancing over the endless amount of boxes. These, unlike the doors outside, had no labels to them, and all of them were sealed. It was hopeless.

At this rate, I might as well let myself get caught. Would it be the end of the world? Probably not. Would it be the end of my world as I knew it? Probably. Then again, what was my world?

I started to feel bile rise up in my mouth, knocking me right back into reality. If it wasn't for my body being so needy, I would've forgotten I had to feed it. Why was the hunger attacking now?

When I finally looked up again, I noticed there were several hooks near the door I entered. A lonely backpack along with two thin jackets hung on the hooks. My eyes instantly widened.

I ran over there and grabbed the backpack off the wall, ripping it open before I was fully aware. It took only a few seconds of reaching around inside its main compartment before I felt something. Quickly reeling my hands out as if I was fishing, I pulled out a small pouch filled with bread.

The thought of finally eating again after so long brought tears to my eyes. I had been so relieved to find it. I was worried I'd die but with this... there was a chance I may make it until the end.

Sitting with my back against the door, I took a bite of the bread. The first bite was absolutely magical. The bread practically melted in my mouth — it was the perfect amount of fluff. Each bite brought me closer to feeling better again, as if food was the missing puzzle piece all this time.

Once the bread was gone, sleep teased my eyes. My brain had been in overdrive for as long as I could remember — producing endless amounts of thoughts and going through all of my fears. If I didn't rest for at least a little bit, I'd burn myself out and then, I'd end up captured again too soon.

I reached for the jackets hanging from the hooks. Placing the backpack on the ground, I used it as a makeshift pillow while the jackets served as a blanket for me. It wasn't much but I was so tired that it felt like a luxury to have this much. I lay in a way that allowed my body to block the door.

As soon as I had settled down enough, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to let go. For today, I would live and that was more than enough. Anything past tomorrow couldn't be promised.

◌

Support more ONC 2021 novellas this season!

Ante by salemkeating

In a world where science and magic collide, Lav Sciarra is hailed as a hero. But Lav knows the ones who win are the writers of history. Told in his own voice, Lav recounts the truth of how he became the most powerful Gemma alive and exactly what it cost him.

Where there's a Will, there's a Tiara by solorzanowriter

Adelaide's parents' accidental death should have been the worst part, but their last wish has left her reeling. Proving her responsibility grows increasingly difficult with her facetious grandmother, a very forward carpenter, and the man she's engaged to all vying for her attention.