Endel walked down the stairs, each step growing heavier. There was a strange, barely noticeable scent in the air. He couldn't quite place what had changed in the house, but something felt… unfamiliar. His mother, Lyra, walked beside him, trying to support him, but as always, her eyes were full of worry. Every step she took was careful, almost deliberate, as though she feared even the smallest movement might hurt him again.
When they entered the kitchen, Endel's father, Kael, was already at the table, sipping coffee and reading a holographic newspaper. Yet even his gaze, normally calm and steady, was lined with worry. He raised his head when they came in, but his eyes immediately locked on his son. Endel had been home for two days now—he hadn't gone to school and hadn't answered any calls from his closest friends. That alone was more unusual than anything.
"Endel, you're still not up for school?" Kael asked softly, almost cautiously. Endel only sat down at the table in silence, prodding at his mashed potatoes with a fork as though the food had no taste or meaning.
Lyra sat beside him, her eyes flickering between her son and husband. She tried to understand, but the words just wouldn't come. What do you say when your son, once full of life, now sits before you like an empty vessel, void of energy, void of soul?
"Won't you tell us what's wrong, son?" Kael tried again, his voice gentle yet persistent, searching for even the faintest trace of the old Endel inside this new, hollow one.
But Endel said nothing. He didn't even lift his eyes. How could he explain what he himself didn't understand? How could he speak of death that left no mark, of time itself being reversed, of a life that was no longer his own?
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Lyra, seizing the chance to escape the tense silence, went to open it. Endel remained at the table, his eyes blank, still stabbing half-heartedly at the meat on his plate as if that act alone was the only thing holding him together.
Kael sat silently, watching.
When Lyra returned, Carlos and Leina—Endel's best friends—were with her. The moment he saw them, Endel felt a cold unease rise in his chest. His fingers clenched around his fork, his heart pounding violently. In his mind, fragments of that time resurfaced: the blue screen, the monsters, the teacher's death, Carlos's death, Leina's death, the slaughter, the corpses, the blood, the terror… and the fear that it would all begin again. His stomach churned. Kael immediately noticed the change in him.
When Endel finally dared to meet their eyes, his world exploded inwardly. The memories flooded back, and his chest tightened in agony. He remembered their last conversation, when they had still been alive and laughing—moments that now seemed so fragile, so painfully out of reach. Meeting their gaze now only filled him with the suffocating certainty that everything would fall apart again, leaving behind nothing but emptiness.
His throat constricted, his breath coming in shallow bursts. The chair beneath him suddenly felt unsteady, and before he knew what was happening, he collapsed. The room spun violently, the air grew thick and crushing, as though invisible iron hands were squeezing his chest. He tried to breathe, but couldn't. Panic consumed his body, his thoughts scattering like sparks.
A panic attack.
"Endel!" Lyra cried, rushing to him, but her voice barely registered. He had no strength to respond, no words—only the suffocating haze of terror. His vision blurred, his breathing sharp and broken.
Kael was closer, but the table blocked him from reaching his son in time.
Carlos and Leina darted forward, trying to help, but Endel no longer registered their presence. All he heard was the overwhelming static inside his mind—a deafening noise, dragging him back to that moment when he had been torn apart, devoured alive.
His hands trembled against the table as he tried to push himself up, his head spinning wildly. Carlos grabbed his shoulders.
"Endel, are you okay? Say something, brother!"
But no words came. Only weak, broken sounds escaped his throat. In that moment, it felt like his whole life was an unending nightmare with no escape. Nothing remained inside him but darkness and a terrifying emptiness.
Then, somehow, consciousness returned. He realized he was being held, supported. Lifting his gaze, he saw the anxious faces of Carlos and Leina—but he couldn't respond. His eyes fell again, silent.
"You have to tell us what's happening, Endel," Leina whispered, placing her hand gently on his shoulder. But he remained silent. Everything that had happened felt unreal, like a cruel illusion. His spirit teetered on the edge, his emotions in shreds, even his body refusing to obey.
He was here, in this world—but at the same time, it felt like he was already gone. He couldn't understand it. Or maybe he didn't want to.
When Endel finally steadied himself again, it was as though all life had drained from him. With the help of his friends, he sat back at the table, hollow, unresponsive to words or glances. His eyes were dull, his face lifeless, as if the world itself no longer mattered.
Leina pulled her hand back, quietly glancing around. Fear and sorrow filled her expression. Carlos stood beside them, his hand trembling as he tried, and failed, to calm his friend.
Endel didn't respond.
Across the table, Kael's face twisted with helpless worry. He couldn't understand what had happened to his son. This boy, once so lively, now sat before him like a stranger. As a former soldier, Kael recognized the signs—it was the same emptiness he had seen in men scarred by war.
Lyra finally sat down, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her eyes moved between her husband and her son, desperately searching for answers that weren't there.
"We need to understand what's happening with him," Leina finally said, breaking the suffocating silence. Her voice was quiet but steady, as though she was forcing herself to be strong. "This… this isn't Endel. He's changed. He's acting like someone who's been through something horrible."
Carlos, still hovering protectively near Endel, turned to her with a bewildered look.
"But what could he have gone through in just two days?" he asked, clenching his fists as he looked at Endel's parents. They only shook their heads, admitting silently that they didn't know.
"He started acting strange two days ago," Lyra said, her voice trembling. "Quiet, withdrawn, refusing to speak. Today he seemed a little better, but the moment you arrived, it began again."
"Maybe it's stress," Kael suggested, sorrow weighing on his voice. "He's been through something traumatic. Sometimes the mind shuts itself off from reality to survive. We should call a psychologist."
"I think you're right, Mr. Kael," Leina said, her own voice trembling. "It looks like trauma. We've all noticed how his eyes have changed… how distant he's become."
Meanwhile, Carlos stood by the window, though his eyes were on Endel, not the world outside. He noticed the way his friend stared through the glass—motionless, lost, as if trapped in another world.
Kael was already calling a friend of his, a psychologist.
"What's happening to you, brother?" Carlos whispered, hoping for any kind of reply. But Endel's gaze stayed locked on the window, unblinking.
"He doesn't hear us," Kael said after ending the call. "The doctor can only come tomorrow." His voice carried a deep exhaustion. "Two days ago he was the same. We almost took him to the hospital, but he insisted he was fine. Then he seemed better… and now this."
Leina's eyes softened with sorrow as she moved closer, though she hesitated to touch him, afraid of how he might react.
"We need to talk to him," she said finally. "Not like he's broken, but like he's still himself. Maybe he understands everything, but just… can't put it into words."
Lyra sighed, glancing at her.
"You're right," she admitted softly. "Endel has always been strong. He won't just give up. Whatever happened, it must have hurt him deeply. But we need to help him find himself again."
"And how?" Kael asked, slumping back into his chair. Lyra shot him a sharp look, as if to say you're his father—figure it out. But Kael only rubbed his temples in frustration.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Leina's fear grew heavier with every moment, but she knew one thing—if they didn't reach him soon, if they didn't pull him back from this state, he might never return.
"I think we need to know what happened to him," she said at last. "What he's thinking. Why he's acting like this."
Carlos nodded grimly.
"I'll try talking to him," Leina added, moving to stand closer to Endel. "Maybe he just needs time. Maybe he just needs to feel he isn't alone."
Endel continued to stare through the glass, as though his body was here, but his soul was wandering somewhere far beyond reality.
At last, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was Leina's. He barely registered the touch, but something in it made his muscles ease, just slightly. She spoke softly:
"Endel, we're here. You can trust us. You're not alone. Tell us what happened… why you're like this."
He didn't answer. But maybe—just maybe—her words reached his heart, if not his mind.
Once again, silence filled the room.