End and Beginning

I turned to the bench. It felt as if the floor was snatched away from under my legs because they started to give away; at the horror.
 Nora lay crumpled on the ground, a pool of blood spreading beneath her. Coins and bills, stained red, lay scattered nearby. People gathered, their voices a distant hum. My legs moved before my mind could, the ice cream cone falling from my hand. "Nora!" I shouted, dropping beside her, my hands shaking as I touched her wrist, searching for a pulse. Her skin was cold, her eyes half-open, unseeing, the eyes without focus. My social inexperience choked me—should I call an ambulance? Yell for help? My phone slipped from my trembling fingers, useless.
Rage surged. The clown was still there, sobbing, curled on the ground. I stumbled toward him, grabbing his collar. "Why?" I roared, punching blindly, my knuckles splitting. He didn't fight back, just wept. "I'm sorry," he choked. "I needed the money... it was an accident... I didn't mean..." His words drowned in sobs, but they meant nothing. Nora was gone. My fists stopped, my breath ragged, as his regret sank in, hollow and useless.
False hope clawed at me. I staggered back to Nora, whispering, "You're okay, you're okay." The crowd's murmurs grew louder. I didn't see the under-construction sign, the open sinkhole just steps away. My foot caught, and I fell, head cracking against a metal pipe as I plummeted. The world spun, a frenzy of pain and swirling came memory—my father's fists, nights alone in a silent room, regret for leaving Nora's side, the clown's tear-streaked face, and Gran, smiling sadly, mouthing, "Keep on." Darkness swallowed me, and I was certain I was dead; the raven's eyes the last echo in my mind as all senses faded away.
Nothingness consumed me, a void so absolute it defied comprehension. No sight, no sound, no touch—just an absence that smothered even the idea of being. My mind was a blank slate, erased, as if I'd never existed. Then, a pulse—a faint throb behind my eyes. Consciousness crept back, dragging with it a splitting headache, each beat a hammer against my skull. An earthly scent filled my lungs, damp and moldy, grounding me in something real. I was alive. Somehow, I'd survived the sinkhole.
My eyes adjusted slowly, light seeping into the edges of my vision. I lay on a dirt floor, cool and uneven, in a room of rusted metal walls that gleamed dully under faint, flickering light. Confusion clawed at me—where was I? The sinkhole should've crushed me, yet here I was, trapped in some underground chamber. Above, a trapdoor loomed in the ceiling, its iron latch mocking me, too high to reach. My fingers brushed the locket in my pocket, its weight a faint comfort amid the chaos.
I staggered to my feet, head throbbing, and spotted a metal door, its surface pitted with age. At its base lay a paper swan, crumpled, stained with dried blood. Nora's face flashed in my mind—her smile, her warmth—now a haunting specter. The swan was the one I'd made, but older, as if years had passed. My chest tightened, questions piling with no answers. Nothing made sense.
The door creaked open to a narrow tunnel, its metal walls stretching into darkness. I followed, boots sinking into the damp earth, the path winding for what felt like hundreds of meters. At its end, a rusted ladder climbed to a circular cover. An underground tunnel, maybe, washed through by some forgotten flood? But that didn't fit—the city was above, alive, not this silent grave. I gripped the ladder, each rung cold and slick, and pushed the cover. It resisted, rust flaking, then gave way with a groan.
I expected the city's hum, its lights. Instead, a horrifying vista unfolded. Ruins sprawled before me, the city's skyscrapers reduced to jagged stumps, swallowed by a lush, untamed forest. Vines strangled broken concrete, trees piercing crumbled towers. No cars, no voices—just eerie silence. My breath hitched, fear and disbelief warring. Was this a dream? Another nightmare?
In a vast clearing—once a highway, perhaps—tall, crooked figures emerged from the distant corner, eleven feet high, their black forms omitting ominous aura. They moved slowly, deliberately, toward me from a few hundred metres. My limbs went numb, mind reeling, unable to process the impossible. Then, from behind, a voice shot out towards me, "Here!".