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It always ended with nothing.

 

Just an endless void of darkness.

 

The first time he had come here, he had cried out, as a child does for their mother. He cried out until his throat was raw, and he could only manage a hoarse scream.

 

He cried the second time, and the third time, too.

 

By the fourth time, he had realized that nobody was here to help. It was just him here. Not another living thing.

 

Was he even alive at this point? He always seemed to wind up here after something physically traumatizing happened to him, like that time they came after him with a knife. Or their bare hands, wrapped around his throat like a vice.

 

The fifth time he came here, he dared to move from where he stood. The ground rippled below him, bending and jumping as he took one step after another.

 

It moved like water, but it didn’t quite move like it either. It was dark, except with one patch lit up by no perceivable source of light.

 

It was there that he finally got a look at himself, that fifth time he came here. Pale grey skin, like parchment, was the first thing he saw. His hair was as unruly as ever, like he had never bothered to brush it after rolling out of bed.

 

Then, he saw his eyes.
No pupils, no sclera, no irises, nothing. They were just two blank white slates.
He didn’t panic. There was only a sinking feeling, as if his stomach had twisted itself around and dropped straight out of his body

 

It was a dream bubble, wasn’t it? It was foolish of him to think any way otherwise, that he was above what happened to his own webcomic.

 

This meant he was dead, didn’t it?

 

How was he able to come here, if he was supposed to be dead? Surely the physics of a fictional sandbox game wouldn’t carry over to his own life? And if so, dream bubbles were usually never so empty, so filled with...nothing.

 

He couldn’t understand this at all. If his game had carried over into his own life, wouldn’t something else have happened that didn’t involve him performing some sort of weird glitch into a void-like area? He should have been somewhere else.

 

Anywhere but here.

 

Anywhere but here.

 

It always ended with nothing. The swing of a knife, the click of a gun, and then this. Absolutely nothing.

 

Nothing.