Ren.

Ren and I grew up in that cold place, trapped like animals. They called us "subjects," never by our names. But Ren always said my name softly, as if that was enough to remind us we were human.

Over time, we learned to bear the pain, to understand each other's looks and silences. He smiled very little, even with blood on his lips. “One day, we'll get out of here. Even if it's just our souls.”

When the escape plan began, everything seemed to be going well. The chains came loose, the alarms screamed, and for a moment, we tasted freedom. But then the sound of gunshots echoed down the hallway.

Ren pushed me forward, his gaze firm and the same cold smile as always, now sadder. “Run… you can still see the sun.”

I ran. Behind me, the noise ceased, and the silence weighed more heavily than the iron of the chains.

Days later, when I finally breathed the outside air, I realized that Ren had succeeded; he had freed me. But he was trapped in that place forever.

Or maybe I thought so..