The door slams, and a lock clicks.

My head snaps up, I’m not expecting anyone. A figure with a knife is staring at me. I freeze.

"You have five minutes to prove you’re worthy of living. Go."

I stand up. I feel the tears streaming down my face. I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I can’t do this.

I look into its eyes.

"C’mon, we don’t have all day. If I’m getting bored, I might just kill you now." i...

"Living is such a privilege?"

I hear it a lot.

And, it is.

kind of.

Living is truly a dream, when

you’re with your best friends, and you’re living such a meaningful moment that you start to miss before it even ends.

or when you get a good grade on something you worked hard for, everything you did was worth it.

But the world doesn’t work like that.

Of course; why would it?

What would you do when...

What matters in this world?

Everyone, and everything.

Every action leaves a mark.

an imprint,

a trace.

Everything which has existed, though maybe now forgotten, has done its part.

and maybe by now, you forgot her face.

But you won’t forget everything she did for you.

How she made you laugh after you felt empty for weeks.

Or how if you wanted to do something, she would do it too.

Even if someo...

I can see their eyes,

the way they stare where the soul lies.

I see their cold stares, I see everything there.

I see their figure looming; standing there, stationary.

I see their smiles, growing increasingly larger as _I_ watch carefully.

Look at their eyes, don’t you see?

How every time I look, they look right back at me?

I can see their cold eyes,

and how they stare into mine.

I can see their...