In times of desperation, when your world crumbles into darkness and despair, who would you reach out to? A guardian angel, a deity, or perhaps even God Himself? That's the question that circled in my mind as the once-familiar world unraveled before my eyes.

The belief was that they would only come to your aid if you held unwavering faith in their existence, with your heart and soul. But who did I call upon when I witnessed the slow devouring of the world, like a candy bar you wished would last just a little longer?

The answer was surprisingly simple.

No one.

It's funny to admit that I didn't believe in anything, not in God or even the devil. They were mere abstract concepts, lurking in the back corners of my mind, never given much thought. I'd never bothered pondering where I might end up after I died.

For me, life had been a three-step plan: 1) Grow up, get a degree, make money. 2) Live a peaceful life on my own, preferably with a well-paying job, and 3) Worry about death when I was old and hadn't accomplished everything on my bucket list.

Now, those plans seemed utterly useless, the list itself an empty reminder of my unfulfilled dreams. I found myself trapped in a place people referred to as Hell, a desolate abyss where my tears flowed freely.

Memories rushed back with an overwhelming force, each one a sharp reminder of my regrets. I thought of my parents and how I had failed them, neglecting their needs when they needed me most. I was consumed by the realization of my own arrogance and the opportunities I had squandered.

It was indeed true, as they said, that in the moments of death, what truly mattered were the people and things we held dear. I couldn't help but wonder how I had ended up in this nightmarish realm they called Hell.

The memories were there, but they were fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle waiting to be assembled.

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Chapter 1: The Mysterious Case

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I live with my roommate, Mike. We share the same apartment, but it's like we live in parallel universes. Our paths cross occasionally, but we never venture into each other's space. That's how it's been for months, until one night when my solitude was shattered.

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The usual silence that enveloped our shared apartment was shattered by a cacophony of angry voices and frenzied movement. I blinked, pushing away my laptop and glancing at the clock. It was well past midnight. As I pondered the source of the commotion, my ears caught Mike's voice—frustrated, panicked.

"Casey, don't mess with me!" he yelled, his voice dripping with urgency as he barged into my room. His eyes, wild and bloodshot, darted around the dimly lit space. I sat up, disoriented and more than a little annoyed.

"Where did you put the case I left here this morning?" he demanded, his tone more commanding than I'd ever heard it. His hands moved frantically, tossing clothes and books around the room as if he were looking for something precious.

I groaned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "I don't know, Mike," I replied, my voice laced with irritation. "But if I did, I would've told you." I leaned against the headboard, my patience waning by the second.

"Why is it so important anyway?" I couldn't help but ask, my curiosity getting the better of me. Despite living under the same roof, I knew next to nothing about Mike. He was always so secretive, and this late-night intrusion was no exception.

Mike, exasperated, sucked in a deep breath, pushing his fingers through his unruly black hair. "It's something really important," he finally replied, his voice tinged with irritation and a hint of desperation.

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My eyebrow arched, and I found myself occupying the couch in the living room. "Something important that wasn't supposed to be here?" I muttered to myself, my annoyance growing with every moment of confusion.

I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but thoughts of Mike being involved in some shady, mafia-like business couldn't help but creep into my mind. I, silently vowed that I wouldn't be around to save his sorry ass if things got too messy.

Mike's reply was curt. "Something important, okay?"

My temper flared, and I snapped back at him. I had a low tolerance for people taking their anger out on me. It was one of those irritating traits that always got under my skin.

A sudden apology from Mike followed, but it was punctuated by his bleak admission. "But I'm screwed if I don't find that case."

As my confusion deepened, I probed further, asking him how much he owed the people who were after him. However, his response only left me more perplexed. "It's not just about money," he muttered, revealing an enigmatic half-truth. "There's something in that case I was supposed to guard."

We embarked on a frantic search for the elusive case within the cramped confines of our apartment. A tiny space that had once seemed cozy now felt suffocating, with every corner and crevice transformed into a potential hiding spot.

Back in my room, I suddenly froze. There, on my bed, sat a crimson case that hadn't been there before. My voice caught in my throat, and I muttered to myself, "It wasn't there before."

"Mike!" I yelled, alarmed, and my voice reached Mike, who had paused in his frenetic search.

"What's wrong?" he asked timidly, his eyes darting to the case on my bed.

I pointed at it. "The case." Mike looked relieved, but that emotion quickly gave way to confusion.

"You said you didn't know where it was?" he remarked, baffled.

I shrugged helplessly. "I didn't know how it looked until you told me the description. I just saw it on my bed when I came in, and it wasn't there before."

This was turning into something far stranger and more unsettling than I had ever anticipated.

As if on cue, our attention was violently diverted by an incessant pounding on the apartment door. Mike cursed vehemently, grabbed the case, and yanked my elbow with a force that left me no choice but to follow him.

"What's going on, Mike?" I whispered, my fear starting to bubble up from the depths of my stomach.

Pulling my hand away from his, I hissed, "Explain."

"They're people hunting for 'this case,' with something in it that I don't know," he hissed back, his grip tightening around my hand as the pounding on the door grew louder.

I barely had time to process his words when Mike swiftly covered my mouth with his hand. He locked my bedroom door with urgency, and his frantic gestures indicated that I should remain silent.

I complied, though it was difficult to stifle the growing sense of dread. My mind raced as I tried to make sense of the situation.

Mike slowly retrieved something from his jeans, and my eyes widened as I realized what it was—a gun.

The sound of the front door being blown open echoed through the apartment, and my heart raced even faster. Panic seized me as I heard shuffling and movement in the living room. Mike, his gun now ready, pushed the crimson case toward me.

I was frozen, caught between confusion and terror. Mike gestured for me to follow him, and he quietly approached the window, sliding it open.

"Come on," he whispered, extending his hand toward me. I took it as I heard footsteps approaching, growing nearer with each passing second.

We began our descent from the second-floor apartment, moving as silently and quickly as we could. It was two in the morning, and our lives had been upended in the blink of an eye.

And then, just as we made our escape, the door to my room burst open with an explosive force that sent shivers down my spine. I rushed down the stairs, clutching the crimson case I so desperately wanted to discard. I couldn't see their faces clearly, but an ominous darkness surrounded them, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

"Mike," a dark voice from above my room sneered, "don't think you can escape us that easily."

Into the night, Mike and I ran, our footsteps echoing through the dimly lit streets. Surprisingly, the mysterious individuals who had invaded our apartment didn't immediately give chase, almost as if they were intentionally allowing us a head start.

The adrenaline surged through my veins, mixing with the fear that threatened to overwhelm me. Mike led the way, clutching the precious red case tightly. His steps were determined, and I followed closely, trying to keep up with his hurried pace.

As we raced through the city, I couldn't help but steal a glance behind us, half-expecting to see those ominous figures closing in on us. The streets, once familiar and bustling, were now eerily empty, adding to the surreal atmosphere of the night.

My thoughts raced, matching the urgency of our escape. Who were these people, and what was inside that enigmatic case that had brought danger crashing into our lives? I had barely known Mike before this chaotic night, and now we were thrust into a life-threatening situation together.

The air was cold, biting at our skin as we navigated the labyrinthine alleyways and backstreets. My lungs burned with every breath, and my legs ached from the relentless pace. Mike's grip on my hand remained firm, silently urging me to keep moving.

Despite the chaos and uncertainty, there was an odd sense of camaraderie between us. We were two strangers, thrown into a nightmarish ordeal, yet we had no choice but to trust each other.

The sounds of sirens echoed in the distance, signaling the arrival of law enforcement, but I couldn't shake the feeling that these pursuers were not the type to be deterred by the police.

With each passing moment, my curiosity about the contents of the red case grew. What had Mike gotten himself into, and how had I become entangled in this dangerous game? As we ran, my mind raced with questions, but for now, survival took precedence over everything else.