A Story (Part II)

It's blood.

But wait...
I feel no pain.

I feel no pain because I have no wounds. No wounds that would allow this cascade of blood.
Then I look down at my hands and see complete mutilation, right in the center of each palm.
But I feel no pain because I have no wounds.

I have no wounds.

So I peer down at the deformations in my hands that do not exist, and I see wounds that are not my own.

Wait...

I see the defacement of my hands.

I can see in the endless black that is the tunnel that does not exist.
I see what is not mine, but there nonetheless. I peer frantically around this tunnel that does not exist, then in the direction I think is up, if there truly is an “up” in this tunnel that does not exist, there I see it. A crack.

A crack in the wall that does not exist of the tunnel that does not exist.

And coming through the crack...
Light.

And coming down on that light, floating through the air, piercing the darkness of the tunnel that does not exist, is a small, almost impossible to notice piece of paper.

But also impossible not to notice.

The paper continues its descent until it lands directly on my hands, shrouding the maiming that is not my own. A flawlessly white sheet, but obviously nothing special... and at the same time the most awe-inspiring object that could be beheld. And on the sheet is writing.

My eyes begin to slide across the page and see a message in ink.
Three simple ink words.

“I love you.”

Instantly, something else begins to come flowing down on the light: the most terrifyingly extraordinary sound that could ever be heard.

It is the sound of someone screaming.

And not just screaming; this is the sound of a man in the most complete of agonies.

But I am still unable to scream...

Besides, this sound makes the screams I had so desperately longed to cascade from my chest seem like peals of thunderous laughter.
It is the most horrifically terrifying sound imaginable or not, going beyond any possibly coherent word, explicable only by the most utter of anguishes.

A living hell.
No.
Worse.
Much worse.

…But why am I laughing so?