Brainbridge Asylum, from a distance, looks like an ordinary institution that serves as a warm and irenic retreat from the cold autumn winds. Its orange walls blended well with the weathered leaves on the soil, and its glass windows served their purpose efficiently in keeping the screams and cries of the patients unheard by whoever happens to pass by.

Within its premises lies a boy named Warren Peace. Right now, he's sitting on his bed, and if you didn't know any better,you'd think he's just talking to the walls. It seems like that, because there's no one else is in the room, but don't tell him that, because then he'll be very angry with you. Well, maybe not as angry as he used to become when his conversations were questioned. These days, he would just roll his eyes and ignore you because you wouldn't understand. You'll never understand.

Well, that's what he'd tell you. He'd say that to himself too. But he wouldn't take that long to convince himself, because by then he'll be back to talking to his female friend, his only friend.

He calls her Sarah, Sarah Fay. If you ask him what she looks like, he'll glare at you protectively, as if no one is allowed to speak to her but him. But if you were to listen to their conversations, you'd know that she has soft long hair that glows in shades from brown to gold under the sunlight and from black to cobalt gray under the moonlight. You'd know that her hair feels like silk between his fingers, and that her skin not only feels like cotton, but gleams as white as cotton as well. Her eyes glisten in the color of fresh honey, and she intoxicates him with not only an enticing gaze, but also with a voice that is just as sweet. When he holds her against him, he cringes and makes sure her fragile form isn't crushed within his arms before he inhales her scent, which smells like a combination of earth and roses.

You may never see this girl with your own eyes, but you will see a boy becoming a man this November look deeply into the air and wish his love for this girl didn't make people think he's crazy. He wished that they could see her like he did, because then they would see her exuberant smile, hear her zestful laughter, and feel her alleviating embrace. Even though he believed no one else can treat her as well as he can, and even though he sometimes feels that she's too good for him, he wants people to know who Sarah Fay is because if they did, they would stop telling him to get rid of her. After all, no one else in this world can bring him so much happiness. She is his foundation, his source of solace. He wouldn't let them take him away from her. It doesn't matter if she's not real to them. She's real to him, and that's all that matters.

2: Chapter 02

Winona Peace is a 52 year-old woman that works as a registered nurse in a hospital not too far away from Brainbridge City. Usually at 4 PM, you'd find her sitting behind a counter near the patients, waiting for the patients to call out their needs so she could send the other nurses to attend to them. She would attend to the patients herself at times, but other than that, she is behind the counter every day from 9 AM to 7 PM. That way, she stays at a safe distance from the rooms, and the drama that unfolds within them.

But today, November 23, Tuesday, Winona excused herself early from the hospital, slid into her dusty green sedan, and entered the 572 Freeway, the fastest route to Brainbridge City. She turned the radio on, not caring which station it tuned to, and lowered it to a quieter volume until the sound of music and voices became as hush as a whisper. Soft rock echoed modestly through the creaky vehicle, but Winona's mind was focused on something entirely different.

Her son is turning 18 today, and she wonders if he himself knows that. After all, there can only be so much that they can reveal to him. Revealing his birthday may seem like a harmless gesture, but her son is unpredictable, as proven many times before. Who knows what he would do in response to this unpredictable day?

Out of the many things her son has forgotten, his anger toward his mother is still intact in his mind. If he were to forget in a moderate-amount of time of how infuriated he is at her, he will be reminded again when she steps foot into his room. You may think that his countless scowls are all the same, but Winona is one of the very few people that can discern between each one. After all, she gets the darkest one, and a mixture of guilt and helplessness stirs in the pit of her stomach. She knows that he blames her for his position in the care facility. She knows that he is frustrated because she'll never give him a good reason why. He is just there, and all she can do is visit him and pretend that everything is normal. But everything isn't normal, and that's why he's there.

Will this visit be like the others?-Winona pondered. She can already picture the encounter in her mind. She'll enter his room, greet him with a smile forced from lips accustomed to frowning, and sit a certain distance between herself and her son before sharing stories from the outside world. Then her son would impatiently glare at the wall away from her and wait for her to finish her false pleasantries so she can leave as soon as she's done. He won't contribute a word in their conversations nor would he pay them any heed. Unless she decides to free him from his "prison", she isn't worth his time. Maybe if she told him it's his birthday today, Winona thought, things would lighten up. But then another thought came to her head and she let out a wistful sigh.

Pain constricted her chest and Winona silently groaned in dismay. As cold as her son may be to her, she still loves him and misses him dearly. The house feels too empty to live in, but she refuses to move to another abode. The house is the only fragment of the past that Warren has left, and maybe he'd appreciate her more if he knew that she preserved it for him. That is, Winona sighed again, if he remembers the house at all.

Winona raked through her gray hair with her slim bony fingers and contemplated what to do. The traffic ahead of her is thick and suffocating, but it gave her time to think. From what the doctor told her, her son's condition isn't getting any better. Her son isn't taking any of the medication, and each word his psychiatrist tells him comes out from one ear to the other. He refuses to interact with other people, including his roommate, and even picked fights with the other patients when they tormented him about Sarah.

Sarah, Winona repeated the name in her head. She never saw her son love anyone as much as he loved that girl. The doctor told her that he loves her a little too much, which wouldn't be a problem if Sarah wasn't...

Winona looked down on her steering wheel and took a deep breath. It's been a year. A year since the incident happened, and Winona was willing to do anything for it not to happen again. Winona looked out the window. If only she knew what it is she has to do! She doesn't know how long she can take this, how long she can withold the truth from her son. She was told it was for his own good, but the restraint seems to be making things worse. She needed a new plan, a new strategy. What method of aid can help her save her son?

She reached out for her phone on the passenger's seat and turned the screen on. In the background was her son, but younger, brighter, and surrounded with both his mother and father. Winona chocked back a sob as she observed how happy her son was, so jubilant and secure in the arms of his parents, as if he had nothing to fear in her and her husband's trusting arms.

And that's when it clicked to her. Trust. Trust. Her son didn't trust her anymore. His dad is no longer with him, and she put him in the arms of someone else when he needed hers the most. And she didn't even tell him why she abandoned him. She only visited him like he was an animal in the zoo and pretended that the whole mess is normal. Again, Winona gripped her steering wheel, it isn't, and it is wrong for her to pretend.

But what else can she do?-she wondered helplessly. How can she help her son with his problem when she's going through the same situation-albeit, a far lower degree than his?

Trust, she repeated to herself again. She needs him to trust her. She wants him to come to her arms because he knows she'll do anything to protect him. Even when she's on her knees begging to be free from her own turbulent pains, she wants him to know that she is also kneeling so he can easily reach her. Sure, she may not help him with every problem. Even the doctor told her that this is one of the problems in everyone's life that her son just has to figure out on his own. But her son doesn't have to be alone, Winona mentally remarked, and he shouldn't be. No matter how old he becomes, he will always be her son, and mothers are always there for their sons. If only her son knew what was really going on, the truth about the past and how it led to now, then maybe he'd understand why she did the things that she did and forgive her.

At that moment, an idea struck into her head. She looked for the nearest exit and flicked on the car's turning signals. She may have to drive a little faster than usual if she wanted to make it to the visiting hours, but her son was worth all the driving tickets in her lifetime.

Who knows? Maybe it can make a good story to tell him when she arrives.

3: Chapter 03

Warren gazed out the window and glared at the leaves falling from the trees. He was listening to Sarah telling him about how refreshing the water was when she swam in a lake last summer when his rude roommate came in whistling into the room. His roommate had ruffled dirty-blonde hair and bright orange eyes, reminding Warren the heat and passion of summer. His warmer and brighter presence seems like a contrast to the fall, which is ironic considering that his persona is as cold as the winter. He is 19, a year older than Warren.

"Hey, Peace," the man greeted as he entered the room. "Still talking to your imaginary girlfriend?"

Warren said nothing and turned to the window beside him. He's far too proud to engage in his roommates infamous arguments. He wasn't worth talking to. No one is. Well, except Sar-

"Ignore me all you want, but you know I'm right," his roommate continued.

Warren exhaled a hiss and finally looked at him. "Will you mind your own business for once?" he grumbled. "I was minding mine before you came into the room."

"Well excuse me for trying to help," his roommate remarked sarcastically and plopped on his bed. "You do realize this obsession with this imaginary girl is what put you in here, right? Don't you want to get out?"

"Don't talk down to me as if you're better," Warren remarked. "We both know what you did to Lana."

A sharp pain seared through the back of Warren's head after his roommate slammed him against the wall. "Don't you talk about my girl, you little prick," he hissed, "or I'm gonna beat you so bad, not even your imaginary girlfriend will recognize you."

Warren chocked as he struggled to get out of his roommate's grip. "She'll recognize me," Warren spat. "She'll always recognize me. She loves me. Unlike your girl, who wishes you could drop dead."

The last thing Warren saw before his roommate proceeded to beat him on his own bed was the fire in his eyes and the liquid that threatened to fall from his eyelids.

Warren knows of his roommate's story. Jeff Stonengrad was in high school when he met the love of his life, Lana Landslet. The two of them dated for a while, and things were going well. But Jeff was too controlling, Lana said. When she tried to resist him, things spiraled so much out of control that the police had to be involved. Someone was sent to the hospital, a lawsuit was filed, and Jeff ended up in the mental institution.

Who did this moron think he is?-Jeff thought as he sent another bruise on Warren's left cheek. The moron plays the silent game with him with a stick up his butt for months, and when he finally opens his mouth, he gives him lip about Lana. What did he know about Lana? He wasn't there when it happened! His only experience with a girl is his imaginary one, so what gives him the right to talk down to him like that?

The sound of metal slamming against plaster echoed through the room as nurses rushed in to pry the boys away from each other. Jeff knew how to fight as well as he knew how to start one, and this left Warren weak and gasping for air. With the assistance of the more muscular nurses, they managed to tear Jeff off of Warren's beaten body. Jeff roared and thrashed within their clutches, but after a shot was injected into his bicep, Jeff's movements slowed down, and he quickly slipped into unconsciousness.

Half of the nurses carried Jeff onto another room as the other half examined Warren's condition. It doesn't look good. "We need to get him to the emergency room," one nurse stated. "Somebody, get a gurney!"

"We have to be quick," another nurse added after feeling the boy's wrist between her fingers. "He doesn't have that much time."

4: Chapter 04

Dr. Maze flipped another page of a patient folder and scowled. The psychiatrist closed the folder and set it down on his desk, only to immediately pick it up and reread its contents.

What is it about this patient that makes him so determined to save him? He's lost patients before, so why can't he let go of this one? After all, the boy is practically diving into deepest, darkest depths of his misery, out of reach from everyone that wants to help him. He obviously doesn't want to be saved, and the doctor will only drown trying to come after him.

He has to resurface on his own, Maze stated to himself, but the question is: how? How do you make someone who wants to hide in the shadows want to breathe in the light? Does he prefer the cold darkness for its ability to conceal what is to be seen? Does the light blind him, burn him, as if the warmth and the illumination it provides threaten his very being?

Maze let out a disheveled sigh and slouched to the back of the chair. The drugs won't do, he concluded. He tried assigning the boy drugs, but the boy refuses to take them. It gotten to the point to which the drugs had to be forced into his system, but the body seems to be resisting the medication as if the drugs were trying to poison him.

After 30 years in the hospital, Maze has treated many patients with this problem, but no one compared to this boy. Perhaps it's because he's young, he theorized, but then disregarded the idea after remembering that some of his past patients were also his age. He must really love this girl, Maze guessed, but did so with doubt. It seemed like a reasonable cause, but there seems to be something else in act here, a factor he has yet to recognize.

So what is it?

Maze looked out the window behind him in thought. For a troubled soul, the boy is intelligent. At least, when it concerned the girl. He may not know exactly why he's in the institution, but he knows that everyone here is trying to get rid of his friend. Gathering information from him will be a hard feat. He won't give information to the people trying to take his friend away.

Three knocks on the wooden door echoed through his small office and the doctor permitted the knocker inside. What he saw next was a large cardboard box carried by two pale arms of a woman he knows very well. "Hello Herbert," the woman quietly greeted.

"Winona!" he acknowledged as Winona took a seat in front of his desk. "What good timing! I was actually reading your son's file right now."

"Really?" Winona tucked the box comfortably on her lap. "Have you finally discovered a breakthrough?"

The smile that the doctor had on his face withered, his expression matching his previous mood. "No," Maze shook his head. "I've been trying to come up with a solution for a while now. I want to help your son, truly I do, but he doesn't seem to want to cooperate."

Winona nodded her head solemnly in agreement. "I think I've figured out a way to fix that," she clutched the box close to her. "I've been thinking a lot about this. We need a new strategy, something we haven't tried before."

Maze eyed the box. "Is your plan in that box?" He asked cautiously.

"Yes," Winona nodded. "I believe it's time we tell him the truth."

Maze eyes widened in response. "What?" He demanded. "Are you mad, woman? How could you even suggest that?"

Maze paused to inhale and exhale. Winona looked at him in total bewilderment. Never did she expect the old doctor to expel such an emotional outburst, considering his quiet temperament and the requirement of his job to be calm and composed.

Maze himself was surprised by his own actions. What has gotten into him? Patience was always his strongest suit, yet an idea from a woman with a suffering son was enough to make him lose it. Has he not been tested by patients and their associates before? What is so different about this woman and her son that throws away the strict doctor-to-patient relationship and make it...personal.

Maze blinked and closed his gaping mouth. "I'm sorry," he apologized lowly, still in shock from his actions. "I didn't mean to yell like that."

Winona frowned and inched back cautiously. She held the box protectively in her hands and watched him as closely as possible. "I understand why you'd be upset, Herbert," she started. "I would be upset too. But holding back the truth is only making things worse."

"Don't forget why you're son is here in the first place, Winona," Maze reminded urgently but calmer than before. "The truth is what drove him to madness. His amnesia was the only good thing that came out of this, because it kept the truth from haunting him! I know his condition right now is worth worrying about, but remember who he was before he came here, before the incident."

Winona was silent after that statement. She bit her lip and gripped the box harder than before. "I need to talk to him," she then said. "I need to talk to him no-"

Hard rapid knocks on the door interrupted her sentence, and before Maze could ask, the knocker slammed the door open. The knocker turned out to be a young male nurse that worked for the hospital for three years. "Dr. Ma-"

The nurse froze when he saw Winona looking at him with a dazed and confounded expression. "Well?" Maze asked. "What is it Michael?"

The nurse stepped back and hesitated. "May I speak to you in private sir?" he requested, avoiding eye contact with the woman sitting on his supervisor's guest chair.

Maze sighed and turned tiredly to Winona. "Excuse me, Winona."

"Of course," Winona nodded as she watched Maze exit the room.

5: Chapter 05

The world you see right now does not follow the laws of reality. Land will be in the sky and clouds will be on the Earth. Water will flow through the air, and fire will be as soft and harmless as cotton.

Perhaps you question why there would be a change of scenery. How can all these factors be possible? Is someone dreaming, or is someone hallucinating? What other reason may this story lead to such a bizarre and peculiar place?

Your answers will be provided in the near future, but for now, let us focus on the scene before us:

An array of colors illuminates the room from the streaks of different colored orbs floating from above. The walls are constructed by cascading water, and the floors are made from the water's mist. The temperature is cool from the vapors of the waterfalls and misty floors, but kept moderate through the heat radiating from the yellow dust encircling the room.

In the center of the room lies a round platform made of diamond floating closely above the cloudy floors. Atop this platform are reflective bands of metal bound together to form a fence-like casing.

The room is elegant, beautiful, and fit for protecting a royal jewel. Unfortunately, this isn't a room of protection. Something precious is indeed being kept here, but it is trapped with almost no escape. The beautiful room is a prison, and the casing at the center of the room is a cage.

Inside this cage is a beautiful woman. She wears a beautiful flowing white dress that modestly shows off her shoulders but covers her arms in lacey sleeves. Her long brown hair is curled and held back by two hair clips, and then complemented by an exquisite tiara atop her thin fringes. Some of her chocolate locks flowed freely past her shoulders and onto her chest, where a small gemstone of ever-changing colors is suspended by a gold chain clipped around the woman's neck.

The honey-colored eyes of the prisoner glistened against the colorful lights up above. Something has happened to him, she told herself, she can feel it. It is only a matter of time before...

The woman shook the idea out of her head and gripped the reflective metal bars. It felt cold against her white skin as she shook them in frustration. After many fruitless attempts, the woman grunted and took a step back. She took a few deep breaths and tried to channel her energy onto her hands. When she gripped the bars again, she exhaled and tried to transfer the energy to the metal. The metal, as expected, only deflected her energy and used it to shove her to the ground. The princess moaned in pain as she struggled to rise back to her feet.

The pain dissipated when she felt a familiar aura enter the room. She glared as a figure walked through the clouds as if it was solid and stepped onto the diamond platform. The figure is hidden in a black cloak, concealing it's true form from other people's eyes. But the woman didn't need to see it's face to know who it is. She knew him too well.

"He's hurt," the woman growled, "isn't he?"

"Don't worry about him, princess," the figure spoke. "He won't be in pain for long."

The princess gasped and banged on the bars. "Let me out!" she demanded. "I'm tired of being your prisoner. He needs me and you're keeping me from him!"

"He needs you to be in this cage," the figure corrected. "You're the reason he's so troubled in the first place. If you really want to help him, you'll stay here and be quiet."

The princess bit her lip and gripped the metal bars. "That's not fair," she told him. "What happened to him was not my fault and you know that!"

"Say what you will," the figure turned around. "You are not leaving this cage."

The figure began to walk away when the princess screamed, "You won't get away with this!" In response, the figure stopped on his tracks. "You know he's hurt," she continued, "he's hurt and he's getting worse. What are you planning on doing about that?"

The figure was silent, causing the princess to eye him suspiciously. What was he going to do about this? His last idea resulted in her imprisonment. Who knows what he'll do now that things have become more desperate?

"Don't worry about it," the figure simply stated. The walls of water parted to the sides as the figure walked past them. Once he was gone, the walls closed behind him, as if they never opened.

The beautiful woman sighed in frustration and fell to her knees. There has to be a way, she thought. There must be something she can do.

She stared momentarily at the ground before looking up to the golden dust around her. They were soft, light, delicate, and oh so far away. Just like him, the woman then thought to closed her eyes and inhaled, allowing energy once again to be channeled to her hands. "I can do this," she muttered to herself. "I can do this."

A burst of light emitted from her hands and covered the cage in a surreal yellow glow.

6: Chapter 06

When Warren opened his eyes, he blinked once, twice, and three more times. Warren gasped at the sound of clothing shifting to and fro, and then relaxed when he realized it was from his own movements. Where is he? And why is it so dark?

Warren searched for a source of light, and when he found it, he found that the light was either tiny or far away. Regardless, Warren ran towards its direction, hoping it would lead to his escape. He could hear himself panting as he sprinted quite a distance. The light doesn't seem to get bigger or closer, but's it's the only hope Warren has to escaping the blinding darkness.

Warren squinted his eyes and focused intently on the light. It didn't shine in a particular shape, but twinkled for him to come closer. Warren's strides became faster as his breathing became ragged. Before he could stop to rest, the light flickered once or twice before suddenly engulfing him in a bright yellow light. Warren had to blink a few times before he made out a figure standing before him. It was a beautiful woman with beautiful chocolate locks and hazel eyes. Warren couldn't help but sigh at the alluring gaze she looked at him with, as well as the smile she gave that was both pleased and pained. Warren wanted to embrace her, not wanting her sadness to spoil her allure, but her figure seems to be misty, as if any movement from his solid body will blow her image away.

So he stood still.

"Warren," the woman she called out in a voice so sweet and gentle. "Come find me."

Said man blinked. "Wh-who are you?" he asked.

The woman flinched at his question, and Warren almost regretted asking. But he had to ask, he told himself. For all he knows, he's dead and the woman is an angel. How else would she know his name?

The woman was mute in awkward silence for a moment, but when she opened her mouth to speak, her image started to fade away. Warren jumped, but stiffened his body immediately after remembering the physical structure of the woman's image. "Find me, Warren!" the woman pleaded. "Please promise me you'll find me! Please!"

Warren wanted to ask why, but her image was at the brink of disappearance. "I-I promise," he sputtered quickly. The woman looked like she sighed in relief before she vanished into a cloud of golden dust. Warren clenched his fists and stared at the space the woman used to be on. "I promise I'll find you."

7: Chapter 07

"Wake up, sleepy head"

Warren shifted on his lying position but didn't feel himself move. His body felt lifeless, like a puppet manipulated by strings. When he opened his eyes, the blinding sunlight caused him to flinch. He groaned to himself as he heard a feathery laugh. "Don't open your eyes so fast," the same voice that called out to him giggled. "And take it easy. I'm not going anywhere."

Warren chuckled and then flinched again when his silent laughter hurt him. He felt utterly miserable, but he had to see her face. So slowly, he started to open his eyes again. He was careful not to let in too much sunlight as he focused on the girl before him. When his eyes became completely open, he saw the girl squeal on her stool. "Good morning, sunshine!" she cooed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," Warren grumbled. "What happened?"

The girl frowned. "Your roommate attacked you, remember?" she reminded him. "Please tell me you didn't get amnesia."

Warren blinked as he recalled the memories of Jeff beating him to a pulp. He felt anger building inside him, but when he glanced at Sarah's worried expression, he calmed down a little bit. "No, no, I remember," he assured, snapping Sarah out of her daze. "Don't worry so much. I'm alive, aren't I?"

Sarah only looked at him, and Warren raised an eyebrow at her distant expression. But before he could comment, Sarah nodded. "Yeah," she muttered. "I guess."

Warren wasn't convinced. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Sarah jumped on her seat. "No, no!" she shook her head. "I'm just glad you're okay, that's all."

Warren narrowed his eyes suspiciously but decided to drop the subject. He remembered something else. "I had a weird dream," he confessed. He cheered to himself when Sarah's blank gaze became a curious one.

"About what?" she asked.

"It's about this girl," Warren started. "She looked like she was made out of mist and she begged me to find her, but it didn't make sense because she was standing right in front of me! But when she started to fade away, I promised I'd find her anyway. I don't know why I did, but I did, and then she disappeared in yellow dust and I woke up."

Warren searched for a reaction on the girl's face, almost hoping she'd tease him about his sudden rambling, but Sarah's expression looked distant again, distracted by something else. "Sarah? Sarah!" Warren called out. "Sarah, what's gotten int—"

"Do you know who she is?" Sarah suddenly asked, surprising him.

"Umm, no," Warren answered slowly. "But now that I think about it, she did look kinda familiar. Then again, I heard that the people in your dreams are people you've seen in real life, so I probably seen her walking on the streets or something."

Sarah nodded, but kept her eyes on the ground. "I think you should fulfill that promise," she suggested quietly. "You should find her."

Warren gave her an incredulous look. "What?" he scoffed. "Sarah, seriously, what has gotten into you? We're talking about a girl I've seen in my dreams. I can't find someone who isn't real."

"But you're talking to me," Sarah retorted, "and I'm not real."

Warren gasped, appalled by her words. Everyone tells him the same thing, but he never expected her to say it herself. "How can you say that?" he demanded.

Instead of answering him, Sarah got off from her chair and ran out of the room. Warren scrambled out of bed. "Sarah!" he called out as he ran after her.

He didn't feel pain or stiffness for some reason, but instead felt like he was flying through the hallways. Maybe this is the adrenaline that kicks in when your loved one is in a life-or-death situation, he guessed, but then quickly dismissed the idea. What kind of danger could she possibly be in?—he asked himself, but continued to run anyway. Maybe it's because he can't stand to be away from her. Maybe he wanted her to explain herself. Maybe it's both, but either way, he just had to catch her.

The halls were empty for some reason, and they echoed as he continued to run. Where is everybody, he asked, but forgot about it when he found the front doors. He thrust both hands out and pushed the doors aside, charging to the outside world. He could feel grass, soil, and rubble sticking to his feet as he followed Sarah into the forest. "Sarah!" he called out. "Sarah, where are you going?"

Sarah didn't reply and disappeared into the trees. Warren panicked at this and ran faster, grunting as the shadows of the trees made it harder for him to see up ahead. They confused him too. Wasn't the sun shining brightly a second ago?

"Sarah!" Warren called out. "Sarah, come back here!" When no one replied to him, Warren roared and hit the nearest tree with his fist. "Sarah!"

But Sarah was nowhere to be found. All he saw were trees and their annoying shadows. Warren grabbed fistfuls of his hair and fell to his knees. What just happened? Why is this happening? First Sarah acted distant with him, and then she physically became distant from him. What did he do? What did he say? Was it really him, or was it her?

Thoughts raged inside his head like a whirlpool and he felt himself getting a headache. He thought about retracing the events that lead to this predicament, figuring out what he did or didn't do that has caused Sarah run away from him, but roared again in frustration as his growing headache forced him to stop thinking.

And then another kind of pain seared through his head. Sarah was all he had. It was him against the world, and Sarah was the only one by his side. Was this meant to happen? Was Sarah supposed to make him love her so she can suddenly leave him and cause him mind-numbing pain?

Warren looked back to find the institute, but only saw more trees and shadows. He began to chuckle, and then his chuckles became dark laughter. So this is how it ends, he thought. He was going to die lost in a forest chasing the only person he thought he has in his life. Maybe it's for the best, he thought. He had nothing to live for anyway.

Warren fell on his back and looked up to the faint sunlight seeping through the forest leaves. How would die, he thought to himself. Would he be attacked by a bear? Would he have his carcass eaten by wildlife? Maybe I'll just sleep again but never wake up, Warren thought. So he closed his eyes. The world wants his dead body so badly? Fine, they can have it.

Warren sighed and focused on his heartbeat. He imagined it beating slowly and fruitlessly, like a machine that is turned on but will never be used. Maybe if I imagined that it stopped long enough, it would stop for real, he thought. So he focused on his heartbeat and imagined it getting slower, and slower, and slower…

"Hey!"

Warren jumped from his position and snapped his eyes open. He looked up to see a woman looking down on him with an eyebrow raised and a stick in her hand. She wore a peach colored dress that is strapped to her right shoulder and parted with a slit on her right thigh. She wore brown sandals and a brown bracelet on each wrist. Her eyes were light green and her orange hair is tied behind her back. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Warren scoffed and laid back down. "Leave me alone," he closed his eyes. "I'm trying to die."

He really expected her to leave after that, so when things became quiet, he felt both relieved and sad. But then something hard and narrow jabbed him on his side, and he yelped in pain and irritation. "Ow! What?"

"Get up," the woman grunted, jabbing him again with her stick.

"Stop it!" Warren protested and leaped to his feet. "What gives you the right to jab people like that?"

"What gives you the right to throw away your life like that?" she retorted.

"It's my life," he glared at her. "You wouldn't understand."

"I don't and I won't," the woman remarked. "I'm not pathetic."

Warren's glare darkened. "How dare you," he seethed. "You don't know who I am; you have no right to judge me!"

"Anyone who throws away their life is pathetic," the woman stated, "it doesn't matter what their excuse is."

Warren scoffed. "And what makes you think you know how to live better than I do?" he exacted.

"You're the one trying to end your life. I'm not," the woman returned. "Clearly I'm the one doing something right."

Warren grunted and clawed his scalp. "I am so sick of people talking down on me!" he snarled. "Just leave me alone and bother someone else! I've had enough with people treating me like a stupid person!"

"You thought you could die by laying on the ground," the woman reminded. "You gotta admit that's pretty stupid."

Warren grunted. "Okay fine! Whatever!" he spat. "Lecture someone else! If you won't leave, then I will!"

The woman watched as Warren turned around and walked away. "I wouldn't go there if I were you," she suggested.

Warren scoffed. "Or what?" he challenged and continued walking. He then heard a snap, but before he could react, he was thrust downwards through a layer of leaves. Out of instinct, he grabbed a tree root and gulped at the dark abyss below him.

His hand started to slip from the root, but when he gripped tighter, he only seemed to slip faster. He remembered for a second that he wanted to die, but when the root slipped out of his grasp, he screamed and tried to grab the root again. Unfortunately, his attempts were fruitless, and he screamed as he was plunged into the darkness.

But then his fall stopped by a sudden tug on his left arm. When he looked up, he was surprised to see that the woman was pulling him up. "Hold on," she said as she dragged him to the surface.

Warren clawed his way out until he was plopped back on the rocky soil. He gulped a mouthful of air, coughed a few times, and continued wheezing frantically. His body was shaking, his eyes are wide, and his heart hammered against his chest. He scrambled far away from the ravine, but not too far in fear he might fall again.

Warren flinched when he felt something move in front of him, and then relaxed when he saw his savior. He felt relieved he wasn't alone and grateful that she saved him, but he was also ready to defend himself in case she taunted him. To his surprise, she smiled at him and tilted her head. "It's okay," she giggled. "You're safe now."

Warren continued to shake, but after swallowing air and spit, he trembled slowly. "Th-thank you," he managed to speak.

The womn's smile widened. "You're welcome," she said. "Now get up."

Warren felt her grab his arms as she helped him stand on his feet. His shaking eventually stopped as she pulled him towards an unknown direction. "Where are we going?" he asked her.

"You'll see," she answered vaguely. "Don't worry, you won't fall again as long as you're with me."

Warren knew he shouldn't trust someone he just met, even if she saved his life. But he followed her anyway, mostly because he doesn't know what else to do. He was going to end his meaningless life anyway, so if this girl led him to nothing, he can always try again.

However, he turned back to the fissure of land he nearly fell into and decided he'll try something a little less terrifying.

"What's your name?" the woman asked.

Warren blinked and hesitated, but then realized he had nothing to lose. "Warren," he answered.

"Nice to meet you, Warren," the woman turned to him and smiled. "My name's Lydia."

8: Chapter 08

The woman in the cage flinched as the hooded man burst through the watery walls and stormed to her cage. "You wretched, woman!" the figure seethed. "How dare you appear before him!"

The woman raised her chin. "I'll do as I please!" she stated. "I don't take orders from you."

The figure suddenly hit her mirrored cage, making the foundation tremble. The woman jumped back and watched him warily. "You just cost him his life!" the figure hissed. "Do you have any idea what you have done?"

"I'm trying to save him," the woman corrected. "That's why I need to get out of here."

"Don't you understand that the reason he's still alive is because you're in here?" The figure snapped. "He's the one that trapped you in here! If you really want to help him, you would accept that!"

"He didn't trap me!" the woman stood up. "You did!"

The figure stood still. "Regardless, he is still alive because of it," he stated.

The woman glared at him through the mirror bars. "He won't be for long," she retorted. "If your plan was really working, he wouldn't be dying right now."

"And what makes you think your plan will work?" the figure challenged. "How do you know your plan isn't going to make him die faster?"

"Let me out of this cage and find out," the woman ordered. "Your plan was put to action and failed. Now it's my turn." …"

The figure stepped back. "Hmph, nice try," he grunted. "I'll take care of this. You, on the other hand, need to stay out of my way."

He raised his hand, and the woman gasped as the mirror bands became pitch black. The walls of water became dark blue. The colored balls of light, including the yellow ones that assisted her earlier, became red and hot. The cloudy floors below became gray and stormy, streaks of lightning screeched threateningly in the air.

"Anything that comes in and out of this room will die in three ways," the figure started. "They would either be drowned by the dark waterfalls, burned alive the by red orbs, or electrocuted by lightning. If you try to magic your way into communicating with him again, the cage will turn your magic into darkness and strike you with it."

The woman inched back and looked at him aghast. "You…"

"I'll take care of him," the figure repeated and walked away. "If you value your own life, I suggest you don't do anything foolish."

And he disappeared behind the parted waterfalls, leaving the woman to wonder to do next.