Kyle's head was completely gone—not gone like it was bitten off, but gone like it was inside the flaming skull's mouth. Everything went completely blank, and Kyle felt like he was transported to a place he'd never imagine he'd dare go to—his nightmares.
Kyle found himself in a vast place that was nothing but complete darkness. In that place, he found himself without his head, though he felt that he had it—but at the same time, it felt like it was missing. The flaming skull was still chewing down on his head, at least that's how it felt.
The immense heat he felt all over his face—at least up to his neck—said otherwise. He felt like his face was getting burned and his skin was peeling off. Kyle fell down on his knees, as all of that made him feel like all the strength and stamina he had—or at least what was remaining of it—was being completely drained. He hadn't eaten in days, and the little strength he had left was the only thing keeping him alive.
He looked down and realized that when he fell to his knees, he had fallen inside a small pool of dark, black, emotionless water—more like a drying-out pond.
He used all fours to maintain his balance. As he looked into the water, using it as a mirror, he saw himself without a face—no head, just his neck. Yet he could see it all so clearly, like he actually had his head.
Kyle tried to talk, but without a head, that seemed impossible. There was nothing much he could do but feel his face, making sure that even though this felt real, he was certain it had to be a dream.
The reason for that was because Kyle was very familiar with the concept of nightmares. For as long as he could remember, he'd always had them. Maybe they weren't like the current one, but the feeling it gave him was unmistakable—one thing he remembered clearly.
That feeling of being completely lost, weak, and helpless.
These dreams of his started back when he was still a child. Whenever he was chosen as a suitable candidate to be adopted, everything would be planned out, all set—but when the time came, he'd have this dream.
In it, he was standing near the orphanage while the people planning to adopt him stood on the other side. They would reach out their hands toward him, and he'd do the same, but there was always this dark, unforeseen force that came between him and those parents. Whenever he tried to run toward them, each step he took made it feel like they were being pulled further back, creating a distance between them.
He'd try to scream, shout, and call their names—just to get them to hear him—but no words came out. The only word he ever managed to utter in the end was "Go."
That's how this current dream felt. He could see himself in the reflection of the water, but no matter what he did or tried, all he could see was a headless boy—helpless and useless.
So, in cases like this, the only reaction would be to panic—to go crazy like a headless chicken trying to escape the slaughterhouse. But for Kyle, it wasn't like that. Instead, this felt more like a relief than a desperate cry for help.
Kyle was feeling his face.
"Where is my face? I can feel myself, and I know for a fact that I have it. No matter what I try—whether it's pressing or slapping myself—I know I have my face. So what is this?"
"Is what I've been praying for my whole life finally answered? Am I finally dead? Well, if that's the case, then I believe there is such a thing as God. But what took Him so long to answer my prayers? And where is He taking me now?" Kyle continued.
He stopped feeling his face and finally gave in. He wasn't afraid—he was calm, almost peaceful. He sat down in the water, his pants soaking through. His clothes had changed; they now looked more like a prisoner's uniform than what he wore before—black and white stripes.
On his feet were very hot and very heavy leg cuffs, tightly fastened. He saw them but didn't react. His hands were also handcuffed with the same material as the leg cuffs. Once again, he didn't react. He just looked at both his hands and legs and stayed quiet.
In his mind, he probably thought that maybe this was his punishment. Though he didn't know or understand why he was being punished, he assumed he must have done something to anger someone. In his life, he had known nothing but punishment after punishment—and in most cases, like today, he was innocent. But there was nothing he could do but accept it.
He just sat there waiting. Then his leg cuffs began to pull—tugging his legs. He was aware of this, and he simply let his legs go loose, allowing himself to be dragged.
The same thing happened with his handcuffs. Suddenly, he felt his wrists and legs burning. Now that was a feeling he couldn't ignore—this one was painful, even for someone who had accepted his fate.
The heat was too much, and a sizzling sound came from his wrists and legs, followed by smoke.
Kyle acted quickly. He tried so hard to free himself from this burning nightmare, but no matter what he did, it was pointless. The cuffs tightened, and he could smell his flesh burning.
Kyle felt like he could go crazy and scream, but since he didn't have a head, he assumed nothing would happen. He'd forgotten that, not so long ago, he had been talking.
The pain was unbearable and only grew worse with each passing moment. Kyle looked at the water he was sitting in and had no choice but to dip both his hands and feet inside—but the water was too shallow to make a difference.
Kyle felt like he was going through the fiery furnace of hell. He kept trying and trying to get those cuffs off, but nothing worked. He even tried scratching himself, but when he did, his nails and hands got toasted, turning black.
Kyle had one more trick up his sleeve. He didn't know if it would work, but he knew he had to try.
He stood up, the cuffs weighing him down, but he managed. Then he used his feet to test the water's depth as he walked around. The water level was still the same as before.
"Come on! Don't you see I'm getting roasted?" Kyle thought, believing he was speaking only in his mind.
After walking around in circles for a while, Kyle finally felt the water deepen a little. When he looked at the distance he had to cross, his heart and will faltered—but it wasn't like he had a choice.
"Whew, I can do this," he told himself.
He knew it wasn't going to be easy. He turned and looked where his cuffs were tied for the first time, but he couldn't see where they led—it was too dark. He could only see a small portion of the chains connected to the cuffs.
Kyle picked up those chains, rolled them around his arms, and placed his hands over his shoulders. Then he started to pull.
The walk was slow and dragging, and the burning wasn't making it any easier. His hands and feet smelled more like cooked meat than anything else.
After walking for maybe ten minutes, Kyle grew tired and knelt down, defeated. He let go of the chains, and they sank, going deeper and deeper into the water. Kyle felt himself being pulled without realizing it.
"Why does it feel like something is trying to get my attention?" he wondered.
When he looked back, he saw himself sitting on top of the water, and his chains were falling deeper into the depths. He was shocked—he didn't expect that.
He watched closely but couldn't see where the chains ended. All he felt was his cuffs pulling him under.
Kyle didn't want to go like that, so he fought hard not to sink. But the cuffs were pulling faster than he could resist. As he fought, without warning, he was dragged beneath the surface.
Kyle couldn't swim. He really tried, but the water pressure was too much. Each attempt to escape only dragged him deeper.
The chains seemed alive as they wrapped around his whole body, binding and suffocating him.
Kyle kicked and struggled until his very last breath. As he went deeper into the water's depths, he finally stopped—landing at the bottom.
But it wasn't over.
The water began to bubble, as if boiling, and an orange glow emanated from beneath the surface—right where Kyle was lying.