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I got used to losing everything a long time ago. That's just how it is.
That's how it would always be.
A family member you loved.
A dear friend.
A companion that represented the epitome of home.
The Backrooms grow ever more unforgiving and poignant… They envelop me, like a haunting blanket that fluctuates in an impenetrable silence. A silence I don't like, but one that makes me feel at home. A silence I long to share with someone else, but at the same time, I want to keep to myself.
Each floor, each room, each level, his absence still weighs on me. The air feels ever more tense; I can tell there’s something watching me, following me.
I think it's him.
I always do.
I try to remember him, remember the times he was here with me. The warmth and comfort he would bring me. I choose to remember, so I’ll never forget.
"Son? Come here, I have a gift for you." Her sweet voice began to appear in my hollow mind. I walked, feeling the grass tickling the soles of my feet, while my toes danced with the tall grass that leaned in my direction. The golden hour kissed my skin as I entered the house. Everything was well-decorated, our Christmas tree sparkling in lights and ornaments. My parents exchanged excited looks, and though I didn't quite yet understand why, I felt excited too.
"I know what you've been telling your aunt," he said when he saw me, sitting down on the velvety couch near the large decorated tree.
"About what?" I asked, my confusion fluctuating into curiosity.
"About having a pet. You know I don't like them at all. I don't even tolerate them, especially when they piss on the carpet and chew on shoes."
"Yes, I know… but I promised you that-"
"But that doesn't mean I don't want to see you happy, especially with a companion, and if your happiness means having to see a mess on the carpet, well… welcome to the chaos." He took a deep breath and looked closely at the box wrapped in light blue and mint green, with three large holes in the sides.
I approached the box, my heart in my hand. My mind repeated:
"It couldn't be that."
"Impossible."
"It must be something else."
I really hoped for something other than "that" thing I'd wanted since I was a child.
Now, I just wanted to open the gift, and even though I was nervous, I would.
I unwrapped the box carefully and with all the patience in the world, and upon seeing its contents, my lungs forgot their purpose, and my eyes remembered that I could cry.
It was a kitten, one with a thick coat of jet-black fur and no bigger than my hand.
It was asleep, but when it sensed my presence, it slowly woke up and stretched. Its gaze shifted to me, and I couldn't believe it.
It was the most innocent, beautiful cat I'd ever seen.
Orange eyes, as precious as the sunset and as pure as the rising of the dawn.
"Merry Christmas, son."
The little kitten meowed and scratched at the box’s cardboard walls, eager to get out. I picked the little cat up, and knowing that its fur was as soft as its presence, I gently hugged it even closer.
"What are you going to name him, son?"
I looked at my mother and felt like a fool for not being able to say anything. I'd always wanted a pet, but I'd never thought of a name; I'd always longed for one.
I'd always hoped to have…
"Hope," I managed after an almost eternal silence. "I-I want him to be called Hope."
My mother gave me a soft look and looked up at the ceiling, thoughtful.
"Hope? Mmm, I like it. That’s a good name."
I laughed, forgetting the tears still falling down my cheeks, and brought my eyes back to Hope, trying to perceive if she was real or just an ethereal dream.
"Hope."
I felt my back stiffen as I was suddenly snapped back into desolate reality by the sudden CLASH coming from a nearby crate, my body trembling as I reached for something, anything I could use to defend myself.
Nothing.
Was this it? Had I wandered forever with the bitterness of grief, only to lose him for good? Will I die before I even get close to finding him again? Will I ever be able to forgive myself?
I didn't know if I'd ever find him again.
If I’d ever see him again.
If I'd ever hold him again.
The guilt envelopes me, building with each second.
The air becomes heavy, crushing me more with every step backward.
My breath trembles and my body gives way, hitting the wet concrete floor and the dirty water soaking my clothes.
My mind raced as the creature revealed itself, memories of my past life flashing before my eyes, but only one thought remained:
I want him back.
Then, just as I had accepted my fate, I saw the jet-black fur I would've recognized anywhere.
"Mroh"
Everything stops. It's him. My cat. It's really him.
The feeling of agony that enveloped me moments before suddenly washed away. And I let myself be carried away by the comforting feeling of holding him tight.
His meows of joy warmed me, and my tears fell onto his black fur. Hope looked up and licked the tears that spilled down my face, as if he knew how terribly I missed him.
When everything was lost, when everything seemed like it was falling apart, when I thought I'd never find him, or worse, something else in this unfair place find him first.
I found him.
No… Hope found me.
And through my tears, I allowed myself to smile again, for I had forgotten myself to affirm what I had denied.
Hope is the last thing lost.
