—--------

The damp, musty air clung to K's skin as they moved, the sound of footsteps echoing against the stone-like walls. Each step felt heavy, as if the weight of the air itself was pressing them down, suffocating. The corridor seemed endless, a disorienting stretch of nothingness, permeated by the stagnant scent of mildew that clung to every breath. They were moved forward without a word, no direction given—just the push, the constant prodding forward, like cattle being herded to an unknown fate..

Without warning, they were stopped. A cold, stiff hand pressed a white mask onto K's face. The world around him disappeared. His vision was swallowed by the blankness of the mask.

"Platform one," a calm voice crackled over the loudspeaker, "The next tube will be in one minute."

K realises that he is in an underground station.

One by one, he heard loud stomping sounds, the bodies around him were shoved forward, stumbling down the platform. K felt the presence of others, but it was as if they were shadows, their cries and pleas swallowed by the void. There were shrieks, some desperate, others resigned, but they were all the same,as the squeaking sound of the incoming train soon drowned the voices.

Suddenly, K was shoved forward, his body slammed into the cold metal of the train track. The impact sent a sharp pain through him, but he remained silent, refusing to let out a sound. It was futile to groan or protest—soon, it would be his turn, and he would vanish into the nothingness that awaited. He wasn’t afraid, but an unsettling agitation churned within him, he would disappear without a track, like this.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The announcement crackled through the station, "There was currently a road incident in the station caused by a trespassing passenger. All underground services are now closed. Passengers are advised to travel via alternative bus routes."

The world had already moved on without those condemned to death, they are a part of the road incident, and they are the trespasser.

—------

The rumble of the train grew louder, approaching and then a loud squash sound, it slightly stopped and then proceeded with full speed to the next target.

"My name is Kane Abbot. I am from Wiltshire originally. I like football..." K started to repeat this, this is all he can patch up about himself, and each word seemed more fragile than the last, but K kept repeating it. It felt almost like a prayer.

The train, indifferent to his presence, sped by with a sharp hiss of air. The man in front of him, another faceless casualty, was swept away without a sound, his body absorbed by the roaring metal..

"My name is Kane Abbot. I am from Wiltshire originally. I like football..." K repeated the words again, the rhythm of them becoming a mantra.

And then, as the train thundered toward him, a realization washed over him—a brutal, undeniable truth. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The world would continue turning, just as it always had. People would get on the trains, rush to their jobs, curse the delays, and never once pause to question. K, and the others, would be swallowed up by it. They would fade into nothing, forgotten, as though they had never been.

The train roared by, uncaring, and the crowd around him remained oblivious. No one noticed him, no one cared. K felt a strange sense of clarity, the absurdity of it all settling into him like an old, familiar weight.

The light from the train blazed forward, and K closed his eyes. It felt like salvation. Perhaps, in this moment, he could finally let go, could finally surrender to it all.