Like the past few nights, I found myself in the lucid dream world again. I started questioning why this was suddenly happening, but that would've been stupid. I was never a dreamer before this, but it would happen to anyone if the government took them against their will and threw them into war training. The dreams, being lucid, were still strange. 

I found myself weightlessly floating in an endless abyss of darkness. No matter where I looked, nothing seemed to stand out. Where was I? Why was I here? Would I be here forever? 

Snap out of it, Eli. It was just a dream, but...it was still unnerving. Something in my mind told me I'd been here before, but where was here? The abyss looked as if it reached eternity. Was I trapped here? Was there a way to return to reality? 

I recalled last night's lucid dream. There were cells that I thought somehow resembled the bedrooms, and the twisted version of the cafeteria came to mind. I had wandered through the halls before I heard voices talking inimically about me, calling me a coward and saying I would fail, among other things. After I opened a door into a pitch-black unfamiliar hallway, I heard my mother talking in a heartbroken tone. She accused me of intentionally leaving her behind and abandoning her. Before I could comprehend what happened next, I found myself drowning and blacking out after failing to reach the surface. Was this a continuation of that? The probability of that happening was absurd, but I've learned never to rule out the lowest possibilities. I waved my arm to see if I was still in the water, and sure enough, I could feel it swirling around me. How come I could breathe, unlike before? If this was a continuation, what did that mean? What was going to happen in this abyss?

Remembering the dream trick that you see in movies, I brought my fingers with the intent to pinch my forearm; however, I couldn't bring myself to go through it. Come on, Eli! I wasn't this much of a wimp. I can't be this scared of a little pinch when I've already gone through a day and a half of Hayward's version of Hell and, presumably, many more days to come. Why couldn't I give myself a little pinch? Was my mind telling me not to? 

The world around me suddenly felt a lot heavier. I frantically looked around to see if anything changed after turning myself onto my stomach. What was happening? Why was there a gust of wind hitting me? 

That's when I realized I wasn't floating anymore. I was sinking.

I instinctively screamed, yet no sound came out. Why was I unexpectedly sinking? Where would I land? What waited for me at the bottom? Would the pressure of the dense water be enough to crush me? Those thoughts continuously raced through my mind. However, a bright light from above caught my attention, illuminating the darkness around me. I strained to turn around, and what I saw made my heart skip a beat. 

The beauty of the white light made me forget that I was descending to my doom. It was so beautiful that I started crying even though I was supposed to be underwater. It looked like sunlight defying the odds of lighting the bottom of an ocean. 

I haven't seen sunlight in what felt like years, even though it's only been a couple of days. A memory of gazing out the library window when I had difficulty figuring out how to start that Rilandian Literature essay before our untimely adventure came to mind before we left for Fera. Before I forgot to say goodbye to my mom. Before beginning to form a bond with Emily.

Before Xavian died. 

Similar memories raced through my mind before an angelic figure formed amid the light. It was so bright that I shielded my face while squinting to see if I recognized the angel. The only features I could make out were that she had long and wavy brown hair and extended arms that reached toward me. The woman grew in size before covering the light that illuminated the abyss. 

No, she never grew; she had been descending toward me. It only looked like she was growing, but the angel was still abnormally large compared to humans. I could make out her gorgeous angelic wings and a long white robe that reached past her shins now that she covered the precious light. However, it was no longer necessary because her aura was enough to brighten the abyss more than the light had. 

The most shocking new feature was impossible to prepare for. Not only was the angel the most beautiful being I had ever seen, but the angel herself was Emily. Gazing upon her beauty, I could only look in blissful shock while all the doubts, worries, and fears that had once plagued me left my mind and body. It was like they were never there to begin with. I had forgotten that I was trapped in an endless abyss. 

The angel continued her descent toward me until she was just out of reach. Why was she slowing down? What was going to happen when we made contact? I never got to see the outcome of that. It happened so fast that I momentarily lost the ability to breathe out of fear. 

I reached out to grab her hand while hers was mere inches away from mine. A considerably large blade pierced her stomach from behind, so large that it came close to my face. Emily's eyes widened in shock as she looked down. The blade slowly moved upward through her abdomen and in between her breasts before finishing by slicing her face in half with a final quick motion. Blood erupted from her wounds.

EMILY! NO! I tried to scream again, but I couldn't muster the sound. Was it because I was underwater? Why couldn't I yell? Why couldn't I vocalize my despair? Why did it feel trapped inside of my lungs?

Her body began to fade away along with the blade that caused her sudden demise. I desperately tried to reach for her hand again, but it proved unavailing. Her hand disappeared before I could know how she felt. 

The light had grown considerably dimmer, indicating that my descent had not ceased. I couldn't afford to ponder who or what had taken the life of the angelic Emily. The faint white light that once inspired hope was overshadowed by a deep crimson hue that radiated despair. A dark figure swiftly emerged in its place, stripping away every ounce of hope I had left.

Maniacal laughter filled the underwater abyss. It wasn't hard to put a voice to a name like Hayward, who appeared before me in a devilish outfit. He wore a long-sleeved red shirt and pants with a black leather vest, certainly far from his average black-and-white outfit. Compared to the angelic Emily, this was my world's version of Satan. His eyes were inhumane, glowing a sinister red and orange. Once neatly made, his hair was slicked back with some gel. Lastly, he had a long curved sword stowed at his left hip. I was confident it was the same one that sliced the angel. The laughter continued until he slowly reached for the sword and unsheathed it. 

I held my breath as he placed the tip of the blade under my chin. Was Hayward going to kill me? Was there a way I could escape his wrath? My internal fear made it impossible to form rational thoughts, but something inside me screamed to get away. I wanted to use my abilities but couldn't will myself to move my body. Even if I could, I didn't think I could match against Satan himself. 

Move, Eli. Do something! Get out of here! Don't let him kill you so effortlessly! 

Hayward pushed the blade into the bottom of my chin until I could feel blood trickling down my neck. My mind continued to do everything in its power to will my body to retaliate, but nothing seemed to work. My arms remained dormant at my side. What was I supposed to do? I was entirely at his mercy. 

He pulled the sword away from my chin and erupted into more laughter. I instinctively brought my hand to the puncture damage to feel the blood leaking down my neck. The wound stung, and I couldn't help but cringe with pain. I frantically rattled my brain, trying to decipher what the devilish Hayward had planned. This was a dream, right? If so, why did I feel this much pain from such a tiny puncture wound? 

Hayward extended his hand toward me, and it looked like he was moving slowly through the water. I tried to will my body to move, to do something to flee, but I couldn't. His open palm stopped in front of my face. Was he going to grab me? I started to feel something that I'd never felt before. It was like whatever hope I had was immediately sucked out of my soul. Nothing but despair remained. 

He never grabbed me. Instead, he offered me a smaller version of the blade that slayed the angelic Emily. 

...

Despair. It can be a noun and a verb, depending on the context. The complete loss or absence of hope, or to lose or be without hope. Hopelessness, desperation, distress, anguish, dejection, depression, surrender, despond. 

The idea of escape was meaningless.

Running away had no purpose.

I should give up.

Everything I did was pointless.

Giving up was the only option left.

Fighting back was senseless. I was too weak. 

The only reason for survival was to fight in this war and to live at Hayward's will. 

No. Suicide was a better option. Killing myself was better than being at the Supreme Leader's. I wouldn't have to suffer anymore. Giving up my life was a better alternative.

Give up. Give up. Give up. Give up. 

...

I picked up the blade with shaky hands and gripped the handle with white knuckles. My breath was short. 

Was this it? Is giving up my life the only option left? What would happen if I decided to end it all right here, right now? The answer was obvious, right? I'd die. All the suffering I'd been through to this point would finally perish. I wouldn't have to worry about staying alive to see the following day. There was no such thing as time, as it was impossible to know what time it was. There were no windows, and I lost my sense of time in the two days I was trapped. 

Before realizing it, I brought the sharp edge of the blade to my throat, and the sight of it made my breath hitch. There were no internal thoughts to do so. Did my mind desperately want this despairful ending? Was this what I wanted? 

I was never a happy person. Correction: I was never an emotional person. There was an acceptable difference between those two statements. Growing up, I had a natural tendency to avoid making friends, mostly because I was cursed with terrible social anxiety. My parents, Mom in particular, tried everything they could to help me make friends by taking me to random classmates' birthday parties, group family outings, and our local park, where most kids enjoyed playing. My mom enrolled me in multiple activities like church summer camp, extracurriculars, and karate to compensate for the bullying that I experienced throughout my earlier grade school years. Emotions never came naturally to me. I was never sure why, but I've always had to try to express myself how I wanted. Friends never existed, but some would say it was my fault. Despite my mom's best efforts, I inadvertently rejected anyone who attempted to befriend me. 

A core childhood memory came to mind. My parents once hosted a gathering at my sixth birthday party and contacted all the parents whose children were in my class. That day, the routine went normally. I went to school in the morning and afternoon, and my parents worked. However, they discreetly faked going to work that morning to prepare for a surprise party when I arrived home. 

School went as planned. My parents must have alerted the kids' parents while they were at school because when I got home, I was surprised to find a bunch of confetti on my face as soon as I walked through the door. Dad had strung balloons all over the walls and ceiling, and a few presents were portrayed on the dining room table. I remember feeling a slight sense of joy at the pleasant surprise, which any kid would, of course. 

"Surprise!" they whooped with joy. "Happy birthday, Eli!" 

I smiled at the unexpected cheering and the sight of chocolate cake on the kitchen bar. Moments later, my mother announced that she had invited the entire class to arrive by five that evening. I glanced at the stovetop clock, which read thirty minutes past four. I wasn't sure how to react to that. In previous years, all of my birthday parties were attended by my family, including my grandparents, some of my aunts and uncles, and a couple of cousins. This particular year, that wasn't the case. 

After asking why none of my extended family was present, my father explained that they happened to be on a work-related vacation. My initial reaction to that was doubt. Did they plan the vacation, forgetting about my birthday? Dad told me it dealt with work so that probably wasn't the case. They appeared every year before this one. The thought of that made the small amount of joy disappear. 

Five o'clock came. I sat patiently at the dining room table, with a clear view of the front door, my presents unopened and untouched. Although my extended family had not come, I was still excited to receive more presents and maybe make a couple of friends. 

Thirty minutes passed. My mom gave me my favorite candy to help ease the uneasy excitement. I wasn't sure whether or not to expect many of my classmates to attend. Besides, I was the quiet kid in class who sat in the back corner and had a bad habit of staring out the window. The only attention I received was from my teacher, who got me to pay attention. 

Five forty-five came, then six. Six fifteen, then six thirty. 

Nobody came. 

As the stovetop clock progressed through the day, I noticed it gradually growing darker. Despair overwhelmed me, and tears made their way down my cheek. Why was I crying? I wasn't supposed to expect anyone to show up. I knew better than this, so why? 

Suddenly, a rapid knocking came from the front door, snapping me out of my trance. My mom gave me a patient smile from the kitchen, signaling me to open the door. Hesitantly getting up from my chair, I went to the door. 

A boy with darker skin stood just taller than me. He always was. Accompanying him was his mother, who we grew to know so well. The boy didn't need an invitation. "Hey, Eli! It's Xavian from your class. We don't talk much, but I wanted to attend your party! I'm sorry we couldn't make it sooner. I had a baseball game right after school. Can we come in?" 

Xavian was the only person who took the time out of his busy day to attend my party. He bought a journal with his own allowance money, which ended up being a great outlet for whatever stress and anxiety bothered me. 

Our friendship blossomed that evening. Xavian helped me in more ways than I could have imagined. 

Why did I have a blade at my throat, then? 

I loudly gasped as if waking up from a dream within a dream. My eyes drifted to the blade that the devilish Hayward offered me. Seeing that blood was drawn, I removed it from my neck and pointed it at him with newfound hope. I couldn't die here. I had things to live for. I had to avenge Xavian's unrighteous death. I needed to protect Emily, fight alongside Emily, and find a way to escape and survive with the rest of the twenty-four. 

Finding my voice, I called loudly to Hayward. "No, this is wrong! I won't be killed so easily! Hope will always win over despair! I will always fight for hope!" 

The devilish Hayward's skeptical expression turned into a wicked smile before erupting into maniacal laughter that shook the underwater abyss around me. It felt like an earthquake was happening beneath my feet. Turning my attention back to the beast before me, he unsheathed the sword that slayed the angelic Emily and brought it to a position to strike me down. 

Before I could react, the sword met the side of my neck with lightning speed.