Hollywood: The Greatest Showman

Chapter 98: Falling Apart

Chapter 98: Falling Apart

The gap was indeed too small, just a thread, but he could feel that slight coolness, as if the air was flowing. Though unable to confirm if it was real or his illusion, that faint possibility triggered a complete adrenaline rush. He began using his fingertips to pick at that seam, attempting to lift the lid slightly.

But... not a fraction budged.

He remembered the nails he had hammered down just now, densely and securely sealing every part of the coffin, leaving no gap. He exerted all his strength to try to squeeze his fingertips into the crevice, but there was no chance at all. His fingertips could even sense the sticky, warm blood, yet there was still no wavering. It was as if an elephant sat atop the coffin lid, dragging him into an abyss of hopelessness after the fleeting thrill of free fall.

No, he wouldn't give up. He refused to give up.

Taking a deep breath, the boiling air entered his lungs, causing a stinging sensation. The churning in his stomach started nausea again, but he gritted his teeth, swallowing down the feeling. Then, he picked up his shoelace and began stuffing it into the gap bit by bit.

In the darkness, he couldn't see his progress, only relying on touch to continue pressing. However, the shoelace began to pile up at his fingertips, unable to be squeezed out. All the shoelaces were stuck in the crevice, motionless. Despite his efforts, all his actions were futile. Like a tangled mess, the shoelaces remained in place, making no progress.

He grabbed the shoelace and pulled it forcefully, unexpectedly pulling it out easily. His right hand, exerting too much force, slammed into the wooden board above his head, causing intense pain in his hand and wrist. Unable to contain his frustration, he erupted like an injured beast, fiercely grabbing the gap, wildly manipulating it with his fingertips, and finally starting to vent his anger on himself.

Clutching his fists tightly, opening his mouth wide, he roared silently. The anger, repression, struggle, and pain he vented out only resulted in a sense of desolation, with no trace of his outburst. There was only a sense of bleakness, with gray despair climbing like vines, entwining around his ankles and rapidly spreading, consuming him bit by bit, leaving nothing behind, not even a trace.

Despair slowly settled in. The gray emotion, like wool, permeated every inch of his bloodstream, entwining around his heart, devouring his vibrant vitality and vigor, until his chest sank slowly, as if all his strength had been drained, even his spine was pulled away. He was reduced to a mere husk, falling softly, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The last glimmer in his eyes scattered, pupils beginning to dilate, his entire soul fracturing.

Humans are always so foolish, aren't they? Just before the explosion, he had argued fiercely with Linda. They had been cold war for two weeks, with no communication. But Linda called him for Sean's matter. They had been discussing their child, but it ended in an argument.

He felt Linda didn't understand his hardships. He was covered in yellow sand here in Iraq, unable to even bathe freely, let alone the terrible food and ubiquitous explosions. He did all this for the family's final effort, but he wasn't understood.

Linda felt he didn't understand her burden. Her busy job left her with no time, but she had to take care of Sean. If she missed her child's childhood, it would be gone forever. She just wanted her mother or his mother to come and stay for a while to relieve her stress, but he disagreed.

The argument ended with Linda hanging up on him. Linda said, whether he liked it or not, she would let her mother come and stay for a while. He was furious because he knew his mother-in-law never liked him, even when life was stable and everything was heading in a positive direction. If his mother-in-law moved in, then his last sanctuary would disappear, and Linda and Sean might be persuaded to drift further away from him.

He sincerely believed their marriage had reached its end. But now, he was here, lying in the coffin, buried alive in the middle of the desert. How ironic. He didn't want to end their marriage. He wanted to go home. He didn't want to continue arguing with Linda. He still deeply loved her, but he had no chance.

Even more ironically, his company had abandoned him. All the benefits promised were gone because they fired him. While he was still in the coffin, struggling for breath, it was chillingly terrifying. And all this was just to wash their hands of the situation, all of it was not worth the exchange for profit; his government had abandoned him too. The so-called "saving every citizen" was just a joke in the face of national interests. They wouldn't come to rescue him, not even the soldiers in Iraq, the government only cared about oil.

So, he had nothing left. He lost his wife, his son, his support, his home, his life, and even his faith. So, what was left for him? When he died, would there be nothing left but an empty shell?

He began to lose consciousness gradually, unable to feel his feet or hands. The narrow space compressed to the extreme, even the air adhering to his skin, all sensations amplified to the extreme but also imprisoned to the extreme. The suffocating distress was so vivid, so clear, it brought despair. In a daze, he returned to the hospital bed. He was still Chu Jiashu, still the paralyzed Chu Jiashu.

He struggled to move his body, but found himself unable to move at all. The nightmare that had plagued him for ten years returned to his body. His soul was once again imprisoned in his body. Panic swept over him, warmth accumulated in his eyes, but his body had no sensation, only coldness remained.

Everything returned to the beginning, his dreams were just a joke, his efforts were futile, his persistence, his struggle, his efforts, were all just struggling in vain. Even more absurdly, he thought he had finally won the opportunity to spread his wings again, like a moth to a flame, embracing freedom, but the result was falling into the abyss, shattered.

He was unwilling, but what could unwillingness do? Regret couldn't help him, anger couldn't work. Even if he tried his best, it was useless. The oppression held tightly to his throat, tearing at his heart but silently. He watched his soul being gradually swallowed by gray despair, vivid and cruel, real and cold.

The dimensional wall between reality and illusion was completely shattered at this moment. He could no longer distinguish whether he was Renly or Paul, or Chu Jiashu, or just a soul without identity. Everything from the past became a dream, even the thirty-two years of his previous life were just a dream. When the dream woke up, unable to accept reality and fell into madness, it collapsed. All the storylines were mixed up, Paul's, Renly's, and Chu Jiashu's, like three memory puzzles overturned and mixed together, reflected in a kaleidoscope, dazzling, but difficult to distinguish between true and false.

He tried to clench his fists, but found that his brain had lost control of his hands; he tried to breathe deeply, but found that his throat had been completely locked; he tried to turn his thoughts, but found that his mind had turned into a mess. Even the warm tears in his eyes gradually lost their temperature, turning cold, then evaporating into thin air, disappearing without a trace.

At this moment, time had completely lost its meaning. He didn't know if it had been a second or an hour, but the air became thinner and thinner. The boiling oxygen burned in his lungs, like thousands of needles stirring, the tearing pain faintly transmitted. His body, devoid of sensation, seemed to finally sense some movement.

But this slightest movement was the death knell.

The hands of death firmly grabbed his neck, sharp nails piercing his throat, squeezing hard, leaving purple marks, the torment of suffocation letting darkness seep into his body. He began to sink, as if sinking into the vast and desolate sea, surrounded by icy seawater, freezing his blood slowly. He sank, continuously sinking, as if the unfathomable seawater would never touch bottom, forever imprisoned in endless nothingness.

The soul, withering.

The body couldn't move, but his thoughts remained active. Dreams died in the womb, but he still had the qualification to dream; progress encountered obstacles, but after failure, he could still try again; life was trapped in reality, but he could still have a little happiness. However, the wings of freedom were broken, the soul slowly withered and dissipated. "He" no longer existed, whether it was Chu Jiashu, Renly, or Paul. He would dissipate, the last flicker of thought extinguished, the moment he completely disappeared from this world, completely erased.

It was over, everything was over.

Light, a ray of light penetrated through, but the faint light was so sharp, piercing his eyes, "Hoo..." He took a long breath, was it the light of rebirth? Or the light of the end? He wasted the chance of rebirth, so it ended completely, right? How ridiculous, how absurd, how empty, but it really was about to end.

"Renly? Renly! Jesus Christ! Renly! Wake up, please, wake up!"

The voice came closer, like a bell, violently impacting his soul, the overwhelming pain surged, every cell in his body began to roar. In an instant, he surfaced from the deep sea!