Stranded in Thoughts

He was coming. Fast.

The pain in my left shoulder throbbed relentlessly as I struggled to catch my breath. I fled the chaos erupting in the hotel where we had been staying. The smell of blood and flesh clung to me like a curse—one I feared might haunt me until my final breath.

I stubbed my toe on a rock and tumbled face-first into the muddy ground, swearing under my breath. My right elbow braced against the earth as I pushed myself up, barely registering my quivering fingers. I staggered to my knees, only to collapse onto my side again. Groggy and disoriented, I forced myself to crawl forward. The wind howled like an omen, promising that I would be next.

Then, the scene replayed in my mind. It was vivid and unrelenting.

Everything unfolded in reverse, and I found myself stuck on my knees, unable to rise. I pounded the ground, sending mud splattering onto my face, and screamed, no longer caring if he heard. I couldn’t believe I had left her—left her with him.

God, please, not her.

I swallowed my anguish and forced myself to move. I had to escape. Someone had to know what was happening.

I sprinted toward the woods, my breath ragged and my body faltering. The absence of my left arm made every movement excruciating. He had ripped it off—no, he had torn it out—but the act defied belief. All that remained was a blood-soaked shoulder and a broken bone jutting through the mangled flesh. My blood left a trail he would undoubtedly follow.

The throbbing in my shoulder was relentless. Warm blood trickled down my side as I stumbled forward, directionless but desperate to stay ahead of him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t the honeymoon I had imagined when I planned every detail.

I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I prayed she had escaped somehow.

The trip had begun with so much joy, an excitement we both shared. Everything had been planned to perfection, with room for a few surprises—good ones, or so we thought. But it all turned upside down.

It was midnight now, and the distant screams and cries from the hotel still reached my ears, even as I pressed deeper into the woods. The scent of death thickened in the air.

I pushed through the shrubs and thick foliage, stumbling into an oddly luminous forest. The trees emitted an eerie purple glow, bathing the night in an unsettling carnival-like light. It made the path visible but filled me with dread. If I could see, so could he.

I forced my way through a narrow opening between the trees and emerged onto a desolate shoreline. The sand was bleak, and the crashing waves were as lifeless as the world around me. My vision blurred as I staggered forward, my body weakened from blood loss. I tore off my shirt and wrapped it tightly around my mangled shoulder in a futile attempt to slow the bleeding.

Farther down the shore, I found a small cliff. With the last ounce of strength in my trembling hands, I pulled out my phone. A faint bar of battery remained, giving me a flicker of hope. But there was no signal.

“Hey, weren’t we having fun earlier? Why’d you run off?”

The shrill voice behind me froze my blood. His stealth was monstrous—I hadn’t even heard him approach.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed my face against the rocky cliff. My teeth cracked as he lifted my head effortlessly—a cruel laugh punctuating his inhuman strength.

I lost vision in my left eye, the other struggling to make sense of the fading world around me. Blood and sweat drenched my face as he slammed my head again and again. Each impact blurred the edges of reality, but his sadistic laughter cut through it all.

When he finally stopped, I was limp in his grasp. He dragged me from the shore into the grass where he hung me on a jagged protrusion. The hole in my shoulder was his makeshift hook.

I dangled, numb and fading.

“Hey, you’re not even screaming anymore. You’re no fun. Can you at least whimper for me?” His tone was mockingly disappointed.

I summoned every ounce of strength to move my lips. “… She… o… kay…”

“What? What, what, what?” His voice oozed fake curiosity.

“I… said… she… okay…”

“Oh, you’re making no sense,” he sneered. “Maybe breaking your feet will loosen your tongue.”

Without waiting, he grabbed my left foot and crushed it effortlessly. Blood and tissue sprayed onto the grass as his laughter filled the night. He didn’t stop until my other foot met the same fate.

Pain, sharp and searing, erupted through me, tearing a scream from my lungs.

He leaned closer, his voice a grotesque whisper. “Your wife, huh? Well, let me share a little secret before you’re gone. We let her go. Erased her memory of you, too. She thinks she’s married to someone else now. One of your friends, actually. Just for fun.”

Rage surged through me, but my body refused to obey.

He dropped me onto the ground, kicking the back of my head hard enough to cause a concussion. Then, with monstrous ease, he tore off my remaining arm and punctured my chest. His hand wrapped around my heart.

Actually, there was no force applied. It was just his touch.

“Any last words?” he mocked.

When I didn’t respond, he chuckled darkly. “Oh, right. You don’t like to talk.”

In one fluid motion, he crushed my heart. My consciousness lingered just long enough to feel his touch against my head—a gentle, almost tender gesture.

And then my skull exploded.