Actual chapter :
Condemned to be Free
"I was a walker between worlds, these worlds of my creation, and my abandonment."
Delirious. Obvious. And hidden.
These three words keep ringing in my ear.
I am standing now, on my feet. Everything is fine. The room, I can see it properly now. It looks like my room, indeed.
This is my body, laying on the bed. Still. Yet I am standing here, separate from it.
Am I dead?
Do I need to do something? Achieve something to get back? Or will I just wake up in my dorm?
I should try to pinch myself. I am doing it.
Self-pinches.
Ouch.
It didn't work. I am still here. In this room. There's something about this place, though… why do I feel like I am underwater?
I need to explore. Maybe I will find some answers.
I pass through a dimly lit hallway. Everything feels dim and dull, like a faded version of my real childhood home. This can't be time travel, I think as I walk. If it were, the house would look as it did when I was young. This looks worn-out.
Each step I took, the hallway stretched ahead, an endless corridor. It was like walking for years.
I look back. The room is still close, though I should already be at the stairs. The distance from my room to the stairs was never this long.
I need to stop questioning this. None of it makes sense to begin with.
If I am outside my body, a spirit, shouldn't I be unable to touch anything? How is it possible that I can feel the walls, that I can't pass through? It means I am truly, physically here.
I need to reach downstairs. Maybe my mom is there.
As I approach the kitchen, drawn by a haunting, memory like shout of my mom, I find nothing. Just the kitchen, empty and organized as always. No mom. No dad.
"Mom?... Dad...?"
I waited for a response. With each second, a year passed. I remained still as time froze me, a helpless point in its vastness.
I see fog now. I hadn't noticed it before, but it has gotten denser. Actual fog. Am I in Silent Hill?
I brush it off. Maybe this is just a dream. All I need is to wake up. Something stronger than a pinch.
A slap.
I hit myself thrice.
"Ouch… Aah!... That hurts…"
I need to think seriously now. I opened my eyes, yet I am still here.
Why can't I wake up?
I look around. The furniture, the living room, the bedrooms… The house is empty.
I walk outside, into the neighborhood.
A wave of despair and nostalgia hits me at once.
In this realm that defies me in every way, a familiar, old memory, barely holding onto the edge of this dream's rope presents itself before me.
The atmosphere suddenly makes sense: gloomy and dull, yet emotional, just like these memories. These neighbors. These houses.
The imagery was unique and utterly maddening, yet the emotions it invoked were surreal, melancholic, and most importantly, mine.
I stare at the neighborhood. A walker between these worlds. So was I. These worlds of my creation and my abandonment.
I try to get inside the house that so awfully resembles my friend's.
I step inside.
"Mom, I want to stay a few more minutes… I need him to know I've read the book he sent me. It's important to him, Mom, so it's important for me. Please, he is my best friend."
I begged and begged my mom for what seemed an eternity. Finally, she nodded and let me stay.
Unlike other kids, my friend and I did not indulge in excessive gaming or outgoing activities. What I or, mostly, he, was more interested in was the fate of the protagonist in whatever comic or book we were obsessing over.
It was my friend James's passion, but I made it mine. As time went by, I grew competitive, racing to see who would finish the book first.
We would borrow two copies of the same book from the local library, rush to our homes, and keep each other informed of our progress. We would quiz each other to see if the other was lying about having read a chapter.
"Stop lying! The Mystical Dragon was the only creature Queen Serena was delighted to possess…"
"No! In chapter 36, it is clearly written the Queen admired the snake more. It reminded her of the past, the present, and the future her kingdom would witness. It was to show the awareness of self-reflection in the face of hopelessness, to not run from it, but to embrace it and give it a better meaning, symbolized by her keeping the snake closest."
"Okay, James… I'm only on chapter 16. It still seems the Mystical Dragon is her favorite… Anyway…"
"Well… wait till you find out it dies in chapter 18."
"What! I hate you! Why would you spoil that for me?"
"Loser."
James and I visited often. Our parents were not the friendliest of neighbors, yet they would allow it. For our sake, if only for a fleeting moment, the adult rivalries would halt, leaving just two families happy in the knowledge that their kids had a social life.
This house is the same, identical to how I remember it, yet utterly detached from everything that made it what it was, a sanctuary for James and me to indulge in our own mythical worlds.
I step inside, expecting no one. Or perhaps I am afraid of actually meeting someone.
"Hello…? Is anyone there…. James?"
Moving closer to the kitchen counter, I look around. The house is in the same state as mine, filled with that same heavy, dense, dull weight, ballooning in every room and corner.
In James's room, I find a letter. It was dated the day I left for university.
The letter was written by James.
"When you find this, you will know everything."
What!?
What is "everything"?
What do I know? I know nothing. I am barely trying to get back home, and now this letter. Why did James write this? Why is it only two sentences?
Why is it addressed to me, yet I never received it?
I fold the letter, and something slips from the envelope. A picture.
This can't be.
It's a picture of me, taken yesterday at my dorm.
How can this be here? In James's childhood home, of all places?
James is literally dead..