The city didn’t make normal sounds anymore. No engines. No shouting. No music from shops. Just this low, tired noise in the air. Like something big was breathing somewhere far away.
Our house was still there.
Walls cracked.
Ceiling slightly bent.
But it was standing.
My mother sat on the floor near the wall with her bag in her hands. Not packed properly. Just clothes and random things stuffed inside.
She kept looking at the door like it might suddenly open by itself.
Outside, the tall shapes were there again.
Not close.
Not far.
Just enough to feel them.
The air felt thick. Heavy in the chest. Every breath felt like work. My head felt strange. Not pain. Just pressure.
The walls made these soft cracking sounds. Not breaking. More like complaining.
I stood up slowly. My legs felt weak for no real reason.
My mother grabbed my arm. Her hand was shaking.
“Don’t,” she said.
Her voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t scared. Just tired.
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t know what to say.
The door felt heavier than it should when I opened it.
The street looked wrong. Not destroyed. Just pressed.
Three shapes stood near the gate. They weren’t moving. They didn’t need to.
The space between us felt smaller than it should. Like the air was folding in.
I stepped forward. The pressure hit me. Not like pain. More like weight.
My ears rang.
My eyes blurred.
My knees felt soft.
But I didn’t fall.
I didn’t look away either.
The ground made a small crack under my shoes. The shapes leaned forward. Not with bodies. With presence.
The air felt like it was screaming without sound.
My hands shook. My chest felt crushed. But the space around me didn’t break. Not where I was standing.
Then the pressure moved.
Not toward me. Toward the house. Toward my mother. I felt it before I turned. Like the air behind me suddenly got heavier.
She was standing now. Her bag had fallen. Her eyes were wide, but not in panic. More like confusion.
The light around her didn’t look right. Like it was being swallowed.
“Stay back,” I said.
My voice sounded thin.
She took one step. Not toward me. Just forward.
The pressure hit her. Not like an attack. Like a collapse. Her body dropped.
No scream.
No blood.
No sound.
Just empty.
I ran to her.
My legs didn’t feel weak anymore. They felt numb. She was on the floor. Eyes open. But nothing was inside them.
Not fear.
Not thought.
Not life.
Just glass.
The air around her felt cold in a way I couldn’t explain. Not temperature.
Meaning.
Like something important had been removed.
I shook her.
Not hard.
Not gentle.
Just enough to feel real.
She didn’t move.
The house made a soft cracking sound again. Like it was giving up.
Outside, the shapes didn’t move. They didn’t need to. They already had what they wanted. The pressure in the air eased.
Not gone.
Satisfied.
I sat beside her. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My chest hurt. My head felt heavy, but empty at the same time.
The space next to me felt wrong. Too empty. Like part of the room was missing.
I tried to speak. Nothing came out. Not because I couldn’t. Because there was nothing to say.
She wasn’t dead like people die. She was… cleared. Like a room after furniture is removed.
The shape was there. The meaning was gone. The house felt quieter.
Not peaceful.
Dead.
Outside, the tall shapes slowly turned away. Not from me. From the house.
The space around it felt thinner now.
Weaker.
Like something important had been taken.
Time felt strange.
I don’t know how long I sat there.
Minutes.
Hours.
It didn’t matter. The city didn’t matter. The monsters didn’t matter. The war didn’t matter. Only the empty space beside me did.
That night, the sky didn’t change.
The shapes still stood outside. The city still felt broken. But my world had already ended.
I didn’t cry.
Not yet.
My body didn’t know how.
I just stayed there.
Holding nothing.
While everything else kept falling apart.
