The room was cold and utterly silent, cloaked in a thick, endless darkness that seemed to swallow sound itself. A small boy sat on the hard floor, his back pressed against the unyielding door, fists clenched and eyes wide with fear. He had pounded on that door, over and over, until his small hands throbbed, his knuckles raw and bruised. Every desperate knock echoed back, empty and unanswered. And as his strength waned, so did the knocks — at first loud, desperate slams, but now, weak, faint taps, barely audible, as though he was fading along with the sound.He didn’t know how long he had been here. The hours twisted into each other, stretching endlessly until he lost any sense of time. His stomach growled, the ache growing sharper, more painful, each minute as he tried to swallow down the thirst that scraped his throat dry. But worse than hunger, worse than thirst, was the creeping dread that seeped into his bones, the feeling of being forgotten, abandoned, and left alone in the dark.
Magbasa pa
Mag-log in
