Ethan sat cross-legged on the floor, his small frame swallowed by the vastness of the empty room. The stale air clung to his skin, each breath a reminder of the claustrophobic silence that surrounded him. He traced the seams of the padded walls with his fingers, searching for some sense of familiarity in the texture. "I used to think places like this only existed in nightmares," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper against the oppressive quiet.
The memory of the outside world was bittersweet, a fleeting glimpse of freedom that felt impossibly distant. Ethan closed his eyes, recalling the warmth of the sun on his face and the laughter of friends that now seemed like echoes from another life. "I used to run so fast, like I could fly," he reminisced, a faint smile ghosting across his lips before fading back into the present.
The appearance of the wardens shattered the fragile tranquility. Ethan's heart raced as they approached, the jumpsuit in their hands a symbol of his impending confinement. Warden 1, a tall figure with a stern expression, stepped forward. "Time for a change, kid," he announced, his voice carrying a finality that sent a chill down Ethan's spine.
As the jumpsuit tightened around him, Ethan felt a wave of panic rise within him. The fabric was cold, unyielding, and the mechanism that locked his arms in place was a cruel embrace. "Please, I don't want this," he pleaded, but his words fell on deaf ears. The wardens stepped back, their task complete, leaving Ethan to grapple with the crushing weight of his new reality.
The absence of light was absolute, a void that consumed everything. Ethan sat alone, the silence pressing down on him like a heavy shroud. His mind raced, searching for any glimmer of hope, but the darkness offered no solace. "Is this what forever feels like?" he wondered aloud, the question swallowed by the silence that seemed to stretch endlessly before him.
Days, or perhaps hours, passed without distinction. The isolation gnawed at Ethan's resolve, each moment a battle against the despair that threatened to consume him. "I can't be forgotten," he resolved, the determination in his voice fragile yet fierce. Yet, as the oppressive darkness enfolded him, hope seemed to slip further from his grasp, leaving only the echo of his own voice as a reminder of his existence.
