Chapter 3- A Living Corpse
627 Words
I was alive.
But not living.
That was the hardest truth to accept.
Days passed… or maybe weeks. Time had no meaning anymore. Morning, night—it was all the same darkness behind my eyes. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even tell if I was dreaming or awake.
I was trapped.
Inside my own body.
I could hear everything, though.
Footsteps. Doors opening. Plates clinking in the kitchen. My mother’s voice… softer now, like life had been drained out of her too. Every sound reminded me that the world was still moving—
Without me.
I tried to move a finger.
Nothing.
Tried to open my mouth.
Nothing.
Not even a whisper.
It felt like I had been buried alive, forced to watch life go on from beneath the soil.
A breathing corpse.
That’s what I had become.
They would come in and out of my room.
Family.
Neighbors.
People I knew… and some I didn’t.
They would stand around me, speaking in low voices like I was already gone.
“What really happened?”
“Will he recover?”
“Shame… he was such a strong boy.”
I wanted to scream.
I’m still here.
But my body refused to cooperate.
Only my mind was awake.
And that was the problem.
My mother…
She tried to be strong.
But I could hear it.
Every night.
When she thought I was asleep.
The muffled cries. The breaking voice. The prayers whispered into the darkness.
“God… please don’t take my child.”
Each tear she shed cut deeper than the knife that stabbed me.
I wanted to reach out.
Hold her hand.
Tell her I’m fighting.
But I couldn’t even lift my arm.
So I just lay there…
Listening.
Dying slowly in silence.
Sometimes, my uncle would come in.
A giant of a man.
Strong. Steady.
He carried me like I was nothing.
From the bed… to the bathroom… to the dining room.
A full-grown man…
Being carried like a baby.
Humiliation doesn’t even begin to describe it.
I could feel his effort, even though he tried to hide it. And every time he helped me, a part of me broke.
Because I knew…
I was no longer the man I used to be.
Eating became a mission.
They had to feed me.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like I was learning how to live all over again.
A spoon to the mouth.
Wait.
Swallow.
Repeat.
Even that… felt like climbing a mountain.
There were days I wished I could just disappear.
Not die.
Just… disappear.
Because this version of me?
I didn’t recognize him.
The worst part wasn’t the pain.
There was no pain.
That’s what scared me.
It was the emptiness.
The silence inside my body.
The disconnection between my mind and everything else.
I would tell my arm to move…
And nothing would happen.
I would beg my eyes to stay open…
And they would shut on their own.
It felt like my body had betrayed me.
Like it had given up…
Even when my spirit hadn’t.
At night, things got worse.
Sleep wasn’t peaceful.
It was heavy.
Dark.
Endless.
Sometimes, I didn’t know if I’d wake up again.
And honestly…
There were moments when I didn’t care.
But then—
A thought would creep in.
Angela.
My daughter.
Her tiny hands.
Her laughter.
Her smile.
And just like that…
Something inside me refused to let go.
“I can’t die like this,” I told myself.
Not in silence.
Not without a fight.
Not while my child still needed me.
So I stayed.
Breathing.
Waiting.
Fighting a battle no one could see.
A war between my body and my soul.
And even though my body had collapsed…
My soul—
Refused to die.
- Writer
