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xellnikov · 1 month

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"Dead. Gone. No other way."

Death was something abstract; not something you could pinpoint. Not a feeling, but a fine outline of something you tried to grasp. Not visible to any sense - it wasn't something present, it was the absence of something. The absence of anything.

For the first time in your life you were convinced you could percieve death. You could feel it in the cold, dull light reflecting off bare, blood-stained walls. Or in the wailing of the patients, screaming as you had never heard anyone scream before - animalistic screeching that made your muscles freeze.

Maybe it was just the act of stepping over corpses. You avoided looking at their faces, trying to pretend they weren't people like you. Unconsciously, you were doing the same thing as the Murkoff Corporation you were trying to expose - trying to deny their individual existence, lying to yourself that they were just shells of something dark.

The human mind could be compared to an abyss and companies have tried to make money out of it, repeatedly and in every way possible. Trying to reach the stars when they couldn't even see the ground they were walking on.

You saw cruelty on the news every day. Parents killing children, children killing parents. Men killing women, lovers killing lovers. People killing people, people hurting people, people doing terrible things because they snapped.

Some people, thrown out of the system, claimed the news was doing it on purpose, showing things that made your skin crawl because they - usually referring to the government, but who knew? - wanted to numb everyone, to prepare humanity for the greater good of the rich.

Mentally, you scoffed at it. Still, you couldn't deny that the dimensions of horror you could endure were growing, because you could see it everywhere you looked. You, like everyone else, had become numb.

Still, nothing could have prepared you for the first time something grabbed you.

In the asylum, you tried to get the footage of the company which was trying to hide their evil intentions. You could smell their shit from miles away - experience told you that the news would choke on the mass of crimes Murkoff had committed and would commit if nothing was done to stop them.

It wasn't the first time you'd exposed a company or a politician. It was already a strange routine, and when you jumped in your car, you were already expecting bad things. None of it happened. You drove up to the asylum, the remoteness and total isolation had already raised suspicions in your mind. Why would someone who had nothing to hide be so far away from everything? In the middle of the forest your phone was already showing the loss of signal. You were on your own.

The pit in your stomach grew deeper as you drove further out, knowing you'd be met with a rough welcome. From threats to physical violence, you'd heard it all from shady companies.

But when even the security booth was empty and you could crawl through the fence without anyone holding you back, your insides clenched and every instinct screamed at you to turn back.

Inside the asylum, you searched for anything useful but found nothing aside from empty rooms and quiet corpses. You searched the rooms. Bathrooms, offices, anything that wasn't locked.

The toilets were filled with blood and other bodily fluids, and morbid curiosity forced you to open all the stalls, only to find a decapitated head in one of them. Gagging and turning around, you hurried to the sink to find water. But all that came out was a brown, muddy liquid.

The further you went, the worse you felt. And when you stepped over the first person you found - curled up on the floor, probably dead - it grabbed your foot. You tried to muffle the scream as best as you could. It burned through your throat, causing you to gasp and whimper, your body rejecting the bitter truth. You jerked the sweaty hand away from your leg. Ironically, it was screaming too, and you couldn't be sure if it - calling it it was easier than recognising the humanity of the poor creature crawling at your feet - was screaming at the world around you, or at the void that offered no help when it needed it most.

Your initial self-confidence slipped from your skin, leaving you naked and vulnerable. Even the flickering light made you jump and the rumble of the other floors made you halt your movements. The beating of your heart in your ears slowed you down, making sure it was your organ and not the footsteps of something behind you. Panic had you in a strong grip, pressing its sweaty hand around your chest and prying between your ribs.

You could feel death crawling through your veins.

Hurrying away from the patient, you grabbed your camera and squeezed through a passage of shelves.

Your boots splashed up the puddles of water, wetting your trousers and leaving a reddish sheen on your skin. You tried to push it away from your consciousness but the longer the water - was it even water, your brain wondered? - dried on your skin, the more taut it became. The hyper-awareness of the situation burned through your skin, down to your bones, and your posture slumped in an attempt to make yourself invincible.

Maybe it worked - making yourself invincible. But you still felt a thousand pairs of eyes digging into your back, eating their way up your spine and gathering around your heart. You felt like you were choking on your own breath.

As you slowly crept away, avoiding any sounds to the best of your ability, you could still hear the screaming of the poor soul who had helplessly grabbed your leg. Between incomprehensible, ear-tearing screams you could make out words, screamed, frightened words.

He was coming. You didn't know who it was talking about, but if there was something dangerous here, you should get out of here as quickly as possible - which was obvious, and you didn’t want to die here. Still, you couldn’t manage to just run to the nearest exit you could possibly find - jumping though a window if it was needed. The asylum had you in a tight grip, like a hug. A hug with somone who frightended you beyond means and who slowly lured you deeper into your own demise.

You couldn’t be sure where you were, what to pay attention to. All the people saw things you didn’t.

So you stumbled across the building like a fawn, scared of light and sound. Reflective surfaces showed you the blood splattered on your face - you were not sure where it originated from.

You were scared to see something that shouldn’t be there, as something you tried to deny your whole life and now came back to slowly tear you apart.

You shouldn’t be here. The asylum was trying to get rid of you, an organism that sensed an intruder. It was not just the patients. Everything was hostile.

The buzzing of the light bulbs reminded you of the many flies that feasted on the decomposing bodies. Apart from the frightened patient from earlier, you hadn't seen anything that you’d call alive. Everything here was pulled back in itself, biting and scratching and begging not to be pulled back in reality.

Some disease had broken out, causing unthinkable injuries to people, some danger was lurking here, everyone here halluzinated and was hurting themselves. You couldn’t be sure which one you’d like more in all of this.

You refused to believe that a human could have done such a thing, but you secretly knew that this asylum had gone to the dogs, and an asylum for the criminally deranged should have at least a few ones in it that’d be willing to commit unspeakable things. They polished their anger, now it was a knife.

Even if the people here were unharmed, you had become painfully aware that it was worse when they were just sitting against a wall, shivering and looking at you like a god - when they were running around unhindered, they just acted like humans. What scared you the most was the apathy. The unwillingsness to accept. The unwillingness to awareness. Looking in the dead, lifeless and pale eyes of the people made your stomach turn. The shine of someones eyes gone. Now just a graze of what they once were.

Loads of gummy blood on your shoes caused you to stick to the floor, making yourself present through the noise. The deeper you got into that godforsaken building, the more people you saw. People. Tasting the word in your mouth, it felt wrong.

The were broken, helpless and pulled out like little splinters, lying around and screeching. Calling to a god that was long forgotten. That forgot them long ago.

More than half of the people you saw were like wounded animals, licking their wounds and deeply disturbed. The other half was hunting after you, leering at your wounds, stalking after you and chittering when you weren’t looking. Hiding behind you, consumed by the dark.

You saw Chris Walker a bit later. You didn’t even notice him at first. As loud as he was, your senses became dull, anticipating every bit of sound that wasn’t there and rejecting the danger that was present.

Instantely, you threw your hand over your mouth, preventing sound to leak out. But you were almost sure he could sense the life in you. The energy still flowing through your veins. You still gave yourself to reality, while the patients gave so much they’d not even be a shadow anymore. But they were a shell, an insect lying on their back and waiting for their body to crash underneath the weight of the pain.

Chris Walker was a floor beneath you, running towards a man and ripping him in half, tearing the head from the neck and throwing it away like rotten flesh. You hid amongst the other patients that glared at him. Small against the railing, you looked down at him.

It was fine for a moment. Until you’d find him looking back to you, even if he shouldn’t be able to sense you. In the brief moment of the eye contact you felt something heavy in your stomach, streching and pushing against your organs, something that wanted to take root in you. It was horrible; never felt the same way before. Was it the look the prey gave the hunter? Or maybe the look the soldier sent his enemy, trying to forecast who’d shoot first? Or the lost soul begging the priest for forgiveness and realizing he wouldn’t be saved from anyone? That after death he’d just disappear into nothingness, every thought of him gone?

It made you want to skin yourself, getting the raw feelings out of yourself. You stumbled away, in awe. Without a plan, you ran deeper inside of the asylum, slowly sinking in between the waves of the dream you’d desperately want to get out of. You pushed your head against a wall, ripping the images away from your mind. The finding of that same desperation in his eyes that you’d found in some of the patients. A hungry need to be pulled out of solitude, a limerence for life.

The breaths you took came out ragged and tarnished, pulling the hope out of you and setting you back on earth. How much of a chance did you have here?

None. You maybe sticked in your head to deep, any sense of self-preservation left. You were led by the presence of something you couldn’t grip.

The wandering you did led you back to Chris Walker, despite your efforts to avoid him. Shuffling beside a vent and curling up, gripping your camera and seeing only a pinch of battery left, you heard noise. Deeply sighing, you realized you’d have to save the battery for another occasion - for later. You’re running around nearly blind by now, only the little bit of flickering light giving you the chance to sense danger. Slowly creeping towards it like a moth to a flame, you noticed a headless figure in a puddle of blood, a muscular man above him and moaning sinfully. You skittered back a bit, looking at the brainless fucking. Brainless - headless? You blinked in bewilderment. It reminded you of an accident, you just couldn’t look away. Disgust painted your features while watching the mans hips stutter, his voice slowly gaining a higher pitch and his groaning getting louder. His sounds scratched something inside of you, like a thought that left too quick to catch. You weren’t sure what to do with this situation. You could see his shoulderblades lifting from his back in a rythmic motion. He was lean, if you payed close enough attention, you could see his ribs shining through.

Slowly, not wanting to get his attention - who knew if he only liked dead people? - you crept out of your corner, attempting to find another track you could follow. Meanwhile he had lied down, spent, his chest softly moving, his eyes following your motions. You stopped for a second, then quickly walking away, seeing with his blissed out smile. He didn’t move from his place, not attempting to run after you, just his teeth glistering in the pale light and a light chuckle spilling from his mouth, amused from your sickened experession. You turned away and stumbled in a lightened corridor, running straight into the arms of Chris Walker.

Your body froze in place, trying to get out of his vision. It was already too late. He saw you and you weren’t hard to miss. Standing in a dim corridor like a deer in the headlights, slowly moving backwards to the necrophiliac - you were cornered, couldn’t keep your back safe. Chris Walker didn’t run this time, he just moved very slowly. The light painted half of his body in a warm light, outlining how big he was. Still stumbling backwards, you held out a hand and followed the lead of the wall. It didn’t took you long to walk beside the headless corpse and with a slight panic, the necrophiliac was gone - so either he was bored, or he saw Chris Walker. You were relieved he was gone, although it didn’t feel safe. You didn’t want to be alone here, nor did you like the company.

Chris Walker took a step forward, you took one backwards. You tried moving faster, he didn’t change his pace. Feeling a handrail, you carefully walked down stairs you didn’t see before - not knowing where they’d lead to, but you were sure it couldn’t get so much worse than this.

That thought lost itself quickly when your leg was caught up in a rusted bar and fresh blood poured on the ground, red and hot and fresh and warm.

Groaning and whimpering in pain, you looked at the wound in horror. It didn’t just hurt and burn. It was laying a path behind you, someone just needed to follow the blood. Like a bunny smearing blood behind it in the pure snow. You limped along the way, desperate to get out of Chris Walkers way.

You were nothing more than prey.

And it didn’t take long to attract the first visitor.

You didn’t see him at first, though. He was the shadowy silhouette in dim lightning, the pair of eyes you swore you could feel when you were home alone. He was the eery smell that would throw you back years in a hazy memory. Luring you in sense of security only to tear you into pieces.

You heard him at first while you held completely still to make sure it wasn’t your mind playing tricks. Footsteps with a shadow but no one to create them. You slithered away, scared and nearly slipping in the pool of blood that was building beneath you.

The camera in your hand showed you everything you needed to know. He was nothing more than a shadow, radiating green light. The danger radiated off of him, settling in your bones and making you freeze.

Chris Walker had stormed after you, focused on finding his next victim and unknowingly stumbling into whatever had crossed your way before him. You thought of it as the cue to leave, the tearing of flesh and screams so horrific you could feel the pain ringing in your ears. You immideatly stormed away, mindlessly running around the cellar of the asylum, haltering because you had to retch everything out of your stomach. It was making you sick.

It smelled of burned flesh down here, the walls smeared with blood and other fluids you couldn’t name. Down here, the only other variants you encountered were corpses.

The only sound now was the rapid beating of your heart, beating faster than you knew it could. You whimpered, regretting every decision that led you to this point. You wouldn’t make it out alive. You wouldn’t make it out alive.

The amount of corpses you saw was constantely getting more. Variants, variants and guards. The variants didn’t have anything of value - weren’t anything of value - but the guards could have something to help you. You slowly lowered in front of one, eyes squelched out and blood all over him. Briefly wondering what may have happened to him, you surpressed the though. That was not your moment to get emotional. You found a card, it could open some doors maybe, so you let it glide inside of your pocket. You also found a lighter, a knife - and something that made you pause. A gun. You tested its weight in your hands, it was heavier than you imagined and was sticky with sweat and blood. Originally, you wouldn’t allow yourself the optimism to find a gun, so the relief of having a weapon with you spurred you on.

“I’m sorry”, you muttered while you stood up, closing the lids of the guard that was missing his eyes. Thankfully to still have yours, they slowly got used to the dim, yellow bulb that was flickering above your head.

Meanwhile, it had found you. You felt him before you any of your other senses reacted. Like a cold hand pressing your insides together. Didn’t even need to check your camera - even if his footsteps were on the other side of the hall, you knew he was close. Now your knew what they were all scared of, not the Chris Walker that was killed just minutes ago. It was his dark presence, the aura of a god and the knowledge of death. Taking a deep breath, you got ready for what was about to happen.

Surely of yourself, you raised your gun and approximated where the bullet would hit your target. Would it kill? Hopefully. You could see him getting closer, seeing just a fine outline of where he should be. So without hesitation, you pulled the trigger.

Your weight hit the ground, warm liquid spreading everywhere and caressing your head like a warm pillow.

The light that was shining into your face was so red.

You could finally find peace beneath the terror .… you felt something getting beneath your soul, taking advantage of your body, feeling death in your every cell, consuming the good in you and filling you with the empty.

Death was something abstract.

originally written for @evilvvithin, we decided to post it. hope you enjoy! x

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