The darkness had been endless—silent, crushing. But then, a jarring sound broke through. Metal scraping against soil. My body—or what was left of it—stirred for the first time in... how long?

Light spilled in, piercing and sudden. I couldn’t flinch, couldn’t shield my hollowed eyes. A shadowy figure loomed above me, shifting into clarity. A woman, her hands shaking, dirt smeared across her palms.

She leaned closer, brushing dirt from my face. I felt it—every grain, every crack in my decayed skin. “Oh, God,” she breathed, barely louder than the wind. Her voice wavered as she gently cupped my cheek, as if afraid I might crumble entirely.

“Hold on,” she whispered, her words more for herself than me. “I’m getting you out.”

The sensation was surreal as she tugged at me, my brittle limbs resisting. My jaw shifted out of place with a soft click, and she quickly pushed it back, flinching.

“Sorry,” she murmured, forcing a weak, shaky smile. “Don’t fall apart on me.”

Her attempt at humor was absurd, but something in it felt... kind. Familiar, even. Did I know her? I tried to ask, but all that escaped was a low rasp—a hollow exhale.

Her fingers steadied as she worked, brushing tangled hair from my face. “It’s okay. Don’t try to talk. Just stay with me. Please.”

Her voice cracked, heavy with something I couldn’t name. Grief? Guilt? Love? She cradled my head carefully, her touch so tender it felt out of place against the grotesque state of my body.

I wanted to remember her, to place the face etched with such fragile determination. But all I could recall was screaming—my scream, echoing into nothing.

Now, her eyes locked onto mine, and for the first time in that endless void of death, there was something else. Not quite hope, but a glimmer of purpose.

And even though my body was falling apart, she held me together like I mattered.