The station, where no one had come to see her off, grew smaller and smaller until it finally vanished.
As the train pulled away, she could only look back at what she was leaving behind—a world of decisions she alone had made, a life in which she had managed to defy fate itself.
"I am leaving this world. And from now on, I will be the one to choose the destination," Anna whispered to herself. She told herself she would be born again, exactly as she desired.
She would find rebirth at the end of this road—a path that felt like the frantic, disordered pulse of chance, the madness of a wingless flight with no return.
The train surged along a river that cut through the mountains, plunging into a dark and silent gorge. She pressed her face against the window, trying to catch glimpses of memories that were falling further and further behind. She felt the past in every pore of her skin. She couldn't say she didn't love those memories—they felt like a sweet deception of her soul. She watched the sky, which always made her want to reach out and grasp its secrets.
When the train emerged from a tunnel, she saw, as if it were an illusion, a vast, black, and glass-smooth lake. She knew it was there, yet she still marveled at its existence. The tracks led through a dense forest where the trees crowded right up to the edge of the rails, as if the whole world were huddling in the path of this metallic serpent sliding into the unknown.
Anna glanced at the man sharing her compartment. He sat in the seat across from her and had tried several times to strike up a conversation. Anna had ignored him.
She was dressed in an elegant short dress and high heels, despite being on a train journey, and her luggage contained another elaborate outfit. She had always believed in dressing up for special occasions; this journey was no exception.
As the train entered another tunnel, her eyes grew heavy. Fatigue finally took its toll, and she drifted off to sleep.
In her dream, she is home, standing in the kitchen chopping onions. Her eyes are watering, and her nose is running. As she glimpses the lives of others, she feels like a shadow, a ghost, or even a living corpse. Even though Anna remembers very little, her mind constantly associates ideas with images. Every part of her body seems to tremble.
The onions appear to float around her, and time grinds to a halt. Time stands still. Then, everything goes dark, and the only sound is a scream growing louder and louder in her ears.
She hears The Observer's Voice.
"A knife is useless. You know very well that your mental strength is your only weapon."
Perhaps she is in Hell.
But that couldn't be quite right. Even for someone like her, Hell felt impossible. The cinematic representation of Hell is completely inaccurate; there are no screams or flames of agony. Nothing supernatural. Hell, if it exists, is likely a state of eternal remorse and regret—a constant reminder of one's wrongdoings. In that realm, the spirit suffers in silence, trapped by the weight of its sins. The fact that there is no escape makes it far too terrifying, even without fire and brimstone. Hell is an endless loop of pain and introspection, crafted specifically for each person based on their greatest fears and nightmares.
Anna had caused the deaths of several people and shattered countless lives, and this was the source of her overwhelming sadness and nightmares. This state could be worse than death itself.
Anna woke up with a start, terrified.
The man was still in the opposite seat. He was pleasuring himself, staring intently at her legs.
Anna gave a faint, cold smile. She slipped her right foot out of her shoe and stretched it out until she touched him there, rubbing him slowly with the sole of her foot. She removed her other shoe, then squeezed his arousal between her soles, continuing the massage.
The man stood up and moved toward Anna's face.
"Come on. Do it," he growled.
"I don't do that. Go back to your seat," Anna said calmly.
The man grabbed Anna by the hair and slapped her across the face.
"Fine, fine... calm down. Be quiet, sit down, and let's play," Anna said softly, her voice devoid of fear.
Anna pointed her index finger at him, fixing it just under his chin as she locked eyes with him. Stripped of any ability to react, the man began to smile like an idiot. He started to tremble, then collapsed onto the sofa with his head thrown back. A thin trickle of blood began to flow from his nose.
"You can't do things like that without a lady's consent," Anna said, looking at him with pure contempt.
Then, she turned and walked out of the compartment.