Kamcy

  I realized I was awake because I could feel the ground.

  Cold. Gritty. Uneven stone pressed into my cheek and ribs—sharp enough to hurt, dull enough to remind me I was still here. My body felt wrong—lighter somehow, hollow—but pain still registered, a low, distant ache rather than the screaming agony I'd grown used to.

  I was lying directly beneath myself.

  My body dangled above me, suspended in thick, stringy webbing like a butchered carcass left to dry. Pus dripped slowly from ruptured boils, mixing with dark, sticky blood that spttered the ground around me in congealed pools. The smell was unbearable—rot, iron, and something sour that clung to the back of my throat. Bones jutted through torn flesh where chunks had been gnawed away. My ribs were visible. One arm looked almost skeletal.

  The monsters hadn't even bothered to finish eating me.

  I didn't get up.

  Not because the creature was gone—it wasn't. I could hear it. The faint scrape of cws against stone. The slow, deliberate clicking sounds echoing deeper in the forest. It was still nearby, still alive, still moving.

  I just… didn't care.

  I y there, staring at nothing, my mind numb and distant. I was tired. Not physically—though that too—but in a deeper way, like something inside me had finally colpsed.

  What was the point?

  Was I supposed to just keep struggling? Scraping by? Fighting tooth and nail just to survive another hour in this pce? For what? To spend an entire year in this hell, only to be dumped back into another one? Another life filled with expectations, disappointments, and quiet misery?

  I couldn't see the end of it anymore.

  Maybe it would've been better if I hadn't tried to escape. Maybe I should've stayed in that cave and let whatever fate was waiting there take me quietly. Curling in on myself, I felt something inside me finally give way, and I broke down.

  I sobbed.

  Ugly, broken sobs wracked through me, my chest heaving as tears streamed down my face and soaked into the dirt. I pressed my forehead against the ground, fists clenched, body shaking.

  Maybe I should just starve myself to death.

  The thought came softly, almost gently. No more running. No more fear. Just lying here until everything stopped.

  As if answering my prayer, something sharp dug into my skull.

  There was a sudden, crushing impact—pain fring bright and brief—and then nothing.

  When I regained consciousness, I was still there.

  Lying next to my body.

  I didn't scream. I didn't react. I just turned slightly onto my side and stared at the ground again, as if nothing had happened. Death had come, brushed past me, and left me behind like an afterthought.

  I stayed there.

  Time passed—how much, I couldn't tell. I repyed my life over and over in my head, every mistake id bare. Every stupid choice. Every moment where I could have turned left instead of right.

  Then came the hatred.

  I hated life itself. Hated my mother for birthing me into a world like this. Hated myself for being so stupid, so weak, so naive. Hated Mr. Adeyemi for dragging me into this hell. But most of all, I hated myself—for believing, for hoping, for thinking I was special enough to survive.

  I y there, unmoving, until exhaustion dragged me under.

  And I dreamed.

  I was home.

  At our old apartment, before we moved to the current one—a time when life was a little better than it is now. Was I dreaming? A lucid dream, maybe?

  The living room was exactly as I remembered it—faded sofa cushions, the old TV humming quietly in the background, the familiar smell of cooking drifting in from the kitchen. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, warm and soft.

  My mom sat on the couch, flipping through a worn notebook, gsses perched low on her nose.

  "What do you girls want to read again?" she asked casually.

  This pce, this setting—I remembered this day.

  Mercy groaned dramatically. "I don't know, Mommy. Everyone keeps asking me that."

  Grace perked up immediately. "I want to be a doctor."

  "Nurse," Grace's voice chimed in again.

  They all started talking at once, ughing, arguing, tossing ideas back and forth like it was the most natural thing in the world. I leaned against the doorway, watching them with a smile I hadn't realized I missed so much.

  I teased them lightly. "You lot are talking big, but Mercy is about to write her SSCE and still doesn't know what she wants."

  Mercy scoffed. "I'm still a teenager. I have time—well, like six months, but that's still time."

  We ughed.

  Then Grace crossed her arms, chin raised stubbornly. "I want to go to acting school."

  The room went quiet.

  My mom didn't hesitate. "Pick something else."

  Grace's face fell instantly. "Why? When Kamcy chose software engineering, you didn't object."

  My mom looked up at me then—really looked at me—and smiled softly.

  "That's because I trusted him," she said simply. "I believed he could do whatever he wanted if he put his mind to it. Besides, it's a responsible goal."

  Something twisted painfully in my chest hearing that.

  She'd always been like that. Always believed in me. Even when I didn't believe in myself. Even when I failed. Even when I doubted everything. Yes, it did put pressure on me not to fail her, but it made me happy nonetheless.

  The younger ones immediately protested.

  "So you don't trust us?"

  "Aren't we your children too?"

  Before she could respond, the kitchen door opened, and my brother walked in, using a handkerchief to clean oil—or something—from his hands, grinning. "Don't mind her. She's always pying favorites."

  That set them off.

  They all started arguing over who the favorite was, voices overpping, ughter filling the room. My mom shook her head, smiling despite herself.

  I stood there, soaking it all in before joining the argument.

  Then—

  Fsh.

  Rumble.

  Thunder cracked so loudly it tore me out of the dream.

  I jolted awake.

  Rain poured down in sheets, hammering the forest floor. The world was dark, soaked, and cold. I reached up and touched my face, my fingers coming away wet.

  I'd been crying.

  "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the rain. "I'm sorry for thinking like that."

  I swallowed hard.

  "I'll get back to you. No matter what."

  My hands clenched into fists. "And I'll make Mr. Adeyemi pay. One way or another."

  Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet.

  I was done lying down.