Beeep Beeeep
The sounds of machines beeping filled the surroundings, echoing off the white polished walls of the hospital. Nurses and doctors rushed around, files and drugs in hand.
The door of one of the rooms swung open—BANG—it sounded like a gunshot, and from inside the room, a bed was rolled out. Lying on it was a body covered in white cloth. Someone had died, and that someone—she was his mum.
He stood at the side, leaned against the chilly walls as the bed rolled by, two nurses pushing it along. The small tires beneath the bed rattled as they shook from side to side. The body on the bed shook slightly, and for a moment, a part of him wished that movement was of life, but he already knew the truth.
As she rolled away, he crumbled, sliding down the wall and collapsing to the ground. His back leaned against the wall and his head slammed against it, his eyes reddened. The tears that he had held back for so long—to make sure that his mother never saw—started pouring out.
His throat got tighter, and his heart ached, it felt like death, as if a thousand needles had gone through his heart.
Footsteps approached him, stopping only a few steps away. He tilted his head, looking at the person. It was a doctor—no, to be precise, his mother's doctor. A tall man with a slim build, sunken eyes, and very unkempt hair.
He had wondered at times if the doctor was fit to take care of his mother at all, but through time he showed he was. No one else was willing to give her the care he did at such a low price. After all, he and his mother had barely anything.
"I'm sorry for your loss, kid. I did all I could to combat the disease, but like many diseases caused by the Tower, they have no cure yet," the man said to him. Though he said sorry, there was no real empathy behind it.
The Tower he spoke of—it was the curse and blessing of humanity. He was born at a time when the Tower had already changed the entire world, but the story of what happened hundreds of years ago is still told.
The Tower came from nowhere. There was no announcement, no sudden change—everyone simply woke up one day, and there it was. A massive black structure that pierced the sky.
It didn't exist in one location, but rather it existed everywhere, and nowhere. Wherever one stepped out and looked, they'd see a Tower in the distance. No matter what part of the world one was in, the Tower was there.
At night, he would stare out of the window, wondering where it had come from. There is no answer to that, but humanity is still searching for it.
The Tower came and changed everything—terraforming the planet, causing mutations and changes all over the world. It gave many benefits, but it gave equal pain for it. And all that was only the outside of the Tower.
Many humans soon decided to go into the Tower, and that was the beginning of humanity's evolution and journey as a whole. The Tower had a thousand floors, and only at the last one could one know the truth and the way to fix it all.
But for years and years, no human had gone close to the last floor. Inside the Tower was a world where the wealthy suffered—a terrifying place where some floors were as big as continents and some as big as a small world.
But from the immense dangers of this Tower, humans gained powers and abilities—awakening and growing. And soon, even people outside began awakening and going into the Tower. Not him though—he never awakened, so entering would be a death wish for him.
And beyond that, he had his mother to care for. After she was inflicted with a disease that was caused by the Tower's mutation, he was the only one left to take care of her.
His father? He had gone into the Tower before he could barely walk, and he never saw him again. He also had a brother, and he went in when he was five. He returned a few times and all felt right, but then he vanished as well.
He couldn't enter or leave his mum and go to the Tower. He didn't want to leave her like the two of them.
"Kid, kid, kid."
He looked up as the voice of the doctor snapped him out of his thoughts.
"You spaced out, kid. I was asking if you would want her body cremated and given to you?" he asked. He let out a small yawn as he spoke, smacking his lips together after and then looking back at him with a curious gaze, wanting to get his response.
He knew this man barely had empathy for anyone, and he only treated his mum to see if he could cure the disease, but at least let him grieve a bit.
"Yeah, I'd like that," he responded.
"Alright then. You'll get it in twenty minutes," he said and walked away. He pushed himself off the ground. His knees felt like boiled spaghetti. Using the wall as support, he made it all the way to the bathroom and staggered his way to the wash bowl.
He looked in the mirror, staring at his sleep-deprived face. He looked too old for an eighteen-year-old, but he blamed the stress. His eyes had dark circles, his black hair was a mess, but beside that, he noticed a streak of white hair inside. It looked weird, but he was too unstable to worry about a white hair.
He tried to straighten out his crumpled black tracksuit and then washed his face with water from the tap. He looked back into the mirror and took a deep breath.
"Kai, this isn't the end. At least she was happy as she went," he said to himself. Tears streamed down his eyes as he remembered feeding her some porridge before it all went spiraling downward. Her final smile was something he would keep with him until he died.
He left the bathroom probably feeling worse than when he walked in. He had given himself time to think about her and their life in there, and it made him hate those even more. He knew she was suffering, but he wanted her to stay—for him, for them—but selfish desires hardly ever come to pass.
He returned to the waiting room of the hospital, taking one of the seats closer to the wall. He leaned his head against the wall, and a few seconds later, his eyes became heavy, closing on their own.
He didn't know how much sleep he got, but he believed immediately he closed his eyes, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He woke up only to see a young female nurse standing in front of him, holding a cylindrical metal box.
"The doctor asked me to hand this to you," she said and gave him the container. He took it, and she hastily walked away as if she didn't want to be seen with him.
He stared at the container in his hands. He knew what it was, but he still felt he had to open it and see, so he did. And inside he saw the ashes of his mother. He immediately closed it and got up, as if wasting one more second would unleash all his grief.
He rushed out of the hospital, pushing open the double doors, leaving this place that he had come to for more than a year now. He didn't look back at all. He simply got to the street and kept walking.