Zack's POV
Far down the end part of the room, Ellie's startled gasp cut through it. We turned sharply to see her staring at the far wall, her face pale. I followed her gaze — and my stomach lurched.
Blood spattered the wall, dark and dried, forming an eerie pattern. The others, now alerted by her reaction, stopped what they were doing and approached her to see what she saw. Mark was the first to react.
"What the hell…" Mark stepped forward cautiously, his brow furrowing.
In the far corner of the room, partially obscured by the shadows, something else caught my eye. A severed body part — an arm, twisted unnaturally.
A cold chill ran down my spine.
Mark inhaled sharply, his face paling further as realization dawned. "I remember something… If a person tries to take their own life, the system doesn't allow it. It terminates them."
Nicole turned to him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Terminates?"
Mark nodded grimly. "By making their entire body explode."
"Like what happened to…Sadie," Ellie said, looking down as if remembering what happened before.
"I didn't know that. We haven't encountered anyone who tried to take their own life," Nicole said, her voice low.
Silence fell over the room, thick and suffocating. The weight of his words settled heavily in our minds as we stared at the remnants of someone who had tried — and failed — to escape this nightmare on their own terms.
I clenched my fists, swallowing hard. The system was cruel, merciless. Even in death, it wouldn't allow a choice.
Clark exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. "Let's move him or her from here. No point dwelling on something we can't change."
Reluctantly, we agreed, settling down as best we could. But the unease lingered.
As a doctor, I am used to seeing this kind of things. I picked up a plastic bag, from the shelf — two for covering my hands and one to put the remnants of the person. Without hesitation, I immediately picked up the pieces. It was difficult to keep a straight face while doing this because it made me remember that this person had a family. Maybe a husband or wife. Maybe children. Someone who would never know what happened to them.
Jake started to do the same. Of course, he is also used to seeing this, given that he was in the army, where life was definitely brutal and traumatizing.
Clark began to carry the body, and Mark helped him. Arya ran to the door, spreading it wide open.
Ambrose picked up the severed arm and shoot it in the plastic bag I was holding.
No one was talking. We just moved.
But the weight of it stayed with us, pressing down like a silent, unseen force.
We were just reminded of how serious and real this world is.
I went outside with the bags on my hands. I walked a few feet away from the surveillance room. I would not want to see this near from us, because it is a constant reminder of what is truly at stake here.
Our lives.
Jake was walking beside me, no one even dared to talk. We just did what we had to do.
Clark and Mark was in front of us carrying the dismembered body. They stopped in the furniture store. Then, we found a cabinet in a shape of a coffin.
We worked together to lift it and place it on the floor. We put the person's remains in the cabinet.
Then, Jake broke the silence. "His name is Lewis Adams. Born in Southwood. Age 55."
"I found a wallet beside his body, and found an ID," he continued.
I nodded slowly, staring down at the makeshift coffin. Lewis Adams. A real person, not just another nameless victim swallowed by the system. Someone who once had a life beyond this place. A home. A history.
We didn't even notice that the others followed us.
Ellie shifted uncomfortably, arms wrapping around herself as if trying to shield against the cold reality sinking into our bones. "Fifty-five…" she murmured. "Maybe, he couldn't live with this nightmare anymore."
No one responded, but the implication was clear. He had probably lasted as long as he could, clinging to hope until it broke him. And when he finally chose to end it, the system denied him even that.
I exhaled through my nose, the scent of dust and decay filling my lungs. "We should bury him."
Clark sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "There's no dirt here, Zack."
I knew that. Of course I knew that. But leaving him in some furniture store, locked away in a wooden box, felt wrong. Like we were tossing him aside, like he was just another piece of broken debris left in this nightmare.
Jake must have seen the look on my face because he placed a hand on the cabinet and murmured, "We'll cover it with something. Make sure no one disturbs it."
Nicole, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke. "It's not enough," she whispered. "It's not enough for someone who died like this," her voice cracked slightly.
Ambrose placed a hand on her shoulder, a rare show of comfort. "It's all we can do."
I clenched my jaw and took a step back. It wasn't enough. None of this was enough. But what else could we do? There was no dignity in dying here. No graves, no mourning families, no proper send-offs. Just a name found in a wallet, spoken aloud once before we moved on like nothing happened.
The weight in my chest grew heavier.
Ellie crouched beside the cabinet and placed a trembling hand on the surface. "I hope… you don't feel alone anymore," she whispered.
A lump formed in my throat.
We covered the cabinet with a cloth we found nearby — dark and thick, enough to keep it hidden from wandering eyes. A poor excuse for a burial, but it was all we had.
As we stepped back, preparing to leave, I forced myself to remember his name.
Lewis Adams.
I would not let him become just another forgotten body in this place.
Even if the system erased him, I wouldn't.