and then we'll build the world again (Outlast)

Chapter 10- Miles

He was...floating? Somehow, without consuming any drugs---that he knew of, Miles found himself swimming in pure darkness. Like a bottomless pit. His eyes fluttered open to confirm whether he was awake and not in some out of body experience.

Weirdly enough, any pain that he suffered from earlier was gone, instead he was left with a tingling numb feeling. Even in his fingers, or lack thereof. There was something buzzing distantly in his ears.

Am I dreaming? Wait, think for a sec. Try to remember what you were doing last.

He remembered disabling Billy Hope's life support system, effectively killing him. And thus, killing the Walrider. At least, he hoped he did. Then he reunited with Waylon---

Waylon! Is he alright? Wait. Focus, Miles. Focus. Stay on track.

Waylon was there too. They were celebrating their victory a little prematurely. He saw a storm of mist, the same black cloud that formed into the Walrider. It was heading towards Waylon, and Miles did the first thing that came to mind.

He ran straight for it.

Now Miles never considered himself to be the smartest guy out there, far from it. Especially when it came to moments where he had to think fast. He was often jokingly told by others that his downfall was his own recklessness, his own desire to save others.

Saving people who meant a lot to him, was a completely different experience. He had lied to Waylon saying he never grew close to anyone. The truth was, he was too quick to attach himself to others----and Waylon happened to be one of those people. Miles didn't know how, but he was. He was worth fighting for. He was worth saving.

There was a lot of pain, an unimaginable pain after that. He didn't remember the exact cause of it, only that it hurt more than losing his fingers or falling through shards of broken glass windows. It was like a thousand knives stabbing into him at once. He might have screamed, he didn't know. He heard someone screaming.

Then he was in Waylon's arms, his head cradled. The words said to him were unintelligible, muffled by the ringing of static in his ears. He closed his eyes and next thing he knew he was here. Floating in darkness. In limbo.

Wait...does that mean...?

"Ah shit, am I dead?" Miles asked, his voice bouncing away in an echo. "Did I seriously just die? After everything I went through?"

No one responded. Of course.

The static seemed to be getting louder. Although his own movements were stiff, almost as though he was paralyzed, he covered his ears to stop the noise. The static didn't sound like anything understandable, just background noise twisting around his head. But something about it shifted. As though the static was fading and sounding clearer. Not a buzz, but a voice without a distinct gender. And it was coming closer.

"No. You are not dead, Host. We have been working to keep you alive."

Miles' breath hitched. "What the fuck? Who said that?" He waited for a second. "God?"

There was a ripple of static. It almost sounded like laughter.

"Who are you?" He asked again. It took a few seconds for it to reply. "Answer me."

"We are not a physical being, nor a presence, so this question confuses Us."

Miles squinted, trying to move forward and see the shadowy creature approaching him. It was about his height, and like it said, had no visible features besides a vague outline. He had only seen it in passing, running away from its horrifying form.