[ WP ] This has got to be shittiest cult in the world .

I ran. 
 
 It was all I knew, all I could feel, all I could do. 
 
 In this place, the running never stopped. 
 
 I had grown so accustomed to the running that I barely registered the dry, hot sand searing my lungs, or the bleeding blisters on my feet. I had stopped acknowledging the other white-robed disciples, every one of them. synonymous with myself. I had stopped wincing at the sight of torn feet, of birdcage ribs and of emancipated faces. I no longer cried for the ones who fell, the ones whose lifeless corpses got dragged off by the darkly dressed observers. 
 
 I was lost in the routine of running. The dusty circle was all I knew. The scalding sun was my nemesis, the midnight moon my imaginary friend. In this place, the cooling relief of night did not seem to exist. Darkness was an unknown agent to me, a hazy memory of earlier days, when the soft touch of others existed and my legs did n't burn and my tongue did n't swell and my throat did n't clench and my feet were n't bloody and when I actually had a purpose, when I could talk, when I could walk, not bloody run. 
 
 Running. 
 
 I had no idea how long I had been doing it for. No idea how long I'd gone without food or water. No idea why the sun had never set. 
 
 Ideas were something I did n't have much of. 
 
 There was but one idea in my mind. An idea imprinted upon me by the faceless voices that had put me and everybody else inside this sweltering circle. 
 
 The idea of nothing. The notion that it would all end, that there would be nothing left. The fear of finality, of closure was petrifying. 
 
 So I ran. Ran and ran and ran. The others kept falling and falling, and the bystanders methodically dragged them away, leaving long, jagged trails in the sand. 
 
 Eventually, it was just me. Just me, trampling the bloody sand into clots. My legs were on fire, seemingly hotter than the sun itself. My eyes were dry, filled with sand, making blinking torture. 
 
 Suddenly, my face was in the sweltering sand, grains digging into my exposed pores. I had stopped. 
 
 The fear took over. Frantically scrambling, I tried using my useless arms to push myself up. I had to keep running. It was no use. I fell onto my scabbed back. 
 
 The last thing I remember was the sky. 
 
 It had turned black.
