Page 18 of His to Fear
Voices erupt from the left, somehow resembling the others, so I quickly make my way in that direction in an attempt to catch up to them.
“Guys, wait!”
But at the end of the hallway, there is still no one nearby.
What’s even more disturbing is the room I’ve found myself in. Crooks hang from the ceilings, different lengths, dangling in the air with rusted chains that scrape against each other. It creates a horrible cacophony that sends shivers running down my spine, making me blanch.
The smell is even worse in here. It clings to me like wet ash, seeping into the fabric, and I know I won’t easily be able to wash it off.
Did they have to make it so real?
I take a step into the room, knowing that the sooner I walk through the slaughterhouse, the sooner I will get the fuck out of here.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Farther ahead, the eerie sound of something dripping down tothe metal, stained floors ensues, filling the silence. A single light bulb hums above, offering just a small amount of light to see what it is. That is when the nausea comes rising inside me, and I sink to my knees, expelling whatever food I’ve had. Gagging, tears fill the corners of my eyes, because that sight is definitely not fucking fake.
It can’t be.
Why would it be real?
The light flickers. Neon green transforming to the sterile light from the light bulb ahead, and then back again.
Fighting to stand again, I swallow as I stare at the carcass hanging from one of the hooks in the ceiling, dangling back and forth. Dripping what seems like real blood, limbs jointed in the wrong direction. Its chest is carved open, blood dripping down the chest and onto the limbs, down to the floor, and creating a pool of liquid.
I clench my fists, taking a deep breath.
I need to get my shit together. Walk through this house of horror, find Eveline, and get out. I don’t even know if I want to do the next level anymore. Might just need a break for an hour after this, but fuck, this is too real.
I make my way across the room, bypassing the carcass, which emanates a scent worse than before. Metallic. Heavy. Rotten.
I make it into another hallway, where a woman stands with a plastic saw, the sound scaring the shit out of me before she does. I jump, and she laughs manically before disappearing behind the door she came from.
Relief sags my shoulders when she’s gone, and I continue through the narrow hallway. This one is so narrow that, in fact, my shoulders brush against the concrete walls. The sense of claustrophobia hits me hard in the chest.
I’m breathing heavily, fighting to stay conscious as I push my way forward. It feels as if the walls are coming closer and closer,pushing me against them harder the deeper I venture. Darkness overtakes everywhere, and a yelp escapes me, haggling through the walls to get forward.
Fuck, it feels as if I’m going to pass out any second. The lack of oxygen to my brain is making me dizzy.
My breathing is staggered, the smell of blood permeating the air, pushing me back to that night two years ago.
Blood staining my face. Stuck in a cart wheel, with nowhere to go, much like now. People tied to the trail.
Blood. So much fucking blood.
I need to get out. I need to get out right fucking now before I pass out.
My breathing is choppy as I feel the oncoming panic attack crawling its way forward, and not even the breathing techniques my therapist taught me help. I can’t breathe, gulping for air and feeling my chest rising and falling. But I can’t fucking breathe, no matter how hard I try.
Finally, I make it to another room. It’s dark, with blood-stained walls and handprints littering the area.
Something brushes against my shoulder, and I scream out loud. The scare actor beside me, dressed like someone who’s been slaughtered, with a plastic knife sticking through their head in a tiara, jumps. Obviously not prepared for that loud a scream. They quickly disappear behind a wall.
I can’t force myself to walk. My legs feel like jelly, unreliable, unable to keep my weight any longer. The floors will swallow me whole soon.
And the smell. Gods, that awful odor.
The panic grips hold of my chest, constricting it like a boa snake out to strangle its prey.
