@Chellsurnameredacted
If the rest of his predicament didn’t kill him, the isolation surely would.
Back when he had a life, he’d always been fond of being alone. He’d never had many friends. Crowds made him anxious, anyway. There had always been groups standing around the break rooms, chatting so much louder than necessary when all he wanted was a refill on his coffee, making his day that much harder to get through. But, now, he would’ve given anything for a packed room full of voices that weren’t disembodied.
Aperture seemed so much bigger when it was empty, even if he could only see it from inside the walls. It was massive, and every little sound seemed to echo. Every broken wall panel creaking out of place, every faulty turret firing at a speck of dust; they were deafeningly loud. But, not quite as loud as the voices that he couldn’t seem to silence. Even his cube, his friend, seemed to fill him with dread.
He was so sore and so tired, but he couldn’t sleep. His cube whispered reminders to him every time his eyelids grew heavy. She’d find him if he slept. She’d kill him if he slept. She’d kill Chell if he wasn’t there to see that she didn’t. He couldn’t sleep.
But he was okay.
He wasn’t quite starving to death, with canned food available when he started to feel too faint, and the hunger pains had become so constant that he could almost forget about them entirely. He was okay. His cube reminded him of that.
He didn’t need the food. He didn’t need sleep. Wasn’t he stronger than that? He must have been if he’d survived when all his friends had died. He thought he was better than them, didn’t he? He’d whisper for his cube to shut up when she went down that path. Of course, she’d respond by reminding him that he needed her. That he’d be dead by now without her. He’d spend the next few days begging for forgiveness.
How long had he been stranded among the shadows? It could’ve been weeks or it could’ve been years; it was hard to tell with no sunlight and hardly any sleep.
Then there was a sound.
Not a familiar one, either. Not a turret or the natural decay of the facility or the voices that wouldn’t stop echoing in his mind. It sounded like... foot steps. He wasn’t sure if they were real or not.
They couldn’t have been real. He was alone. Test subjects weren’t allowed out of the chambers and everyone but Chell was dead. But... They sounded so vivid, and so different from the the things he usually heard. He couldn’t recall ever hallucinating foot steps. But, it was hard to tell any more.
Confused and overwhelmed, he stayed right where he was, huddled in his den. Maybe the sounds would stop. He didn’t dare to investigate.
