The voice continued, still in that low, almost whispered tone that seemed to come from an invisible point right next to my ear, as if it had always been lodged there, too close to ignore, too gentle to hate.
— You exhaled… to relieve yourself.
— To kill.
— But this world… does not kill.
— It sends back.
Each word fell with disarming clarity, without threat, without anger, like a truth one had never wanted to articulate. And yet, it now imposed itself in all the space.
I sat up.
Not in a full movement. Not with a start. Just halfway. Back bent, arms trembling, breath still jolted, shattered in my throat. Each inhalation felt like an incomplete attempt, a struggle against the air itself.
And I lifted my eyes.
Slowly.
I looked ahead.
Not to understand.
But because there was no other direction to take.
The cocoon was no longer there.
