I’m an idiot.

I had reached the staircase room. The room with the flying gun was soundproofed. Unless there was a new connection made, that route would likely be clear. Besides, I didn’t have superhuman hearing.

She shouldn’t be far.

I jogged through a dimly lit room. The only illumination came from my doorway and the one across. I reached the opposite light.

“Woah.” I stopped, swinging my arms to balance myself from falling off a ledge. The gun was thrown to the abyss below in the process.

I didn’t hear it land. Although it wasn’t past them to soundproof the ground below for the perception of depth to be dramatic.

There were ‘islands’ of stone pillars that could fit a few people abreast. They were connected with shoddy draw bridges. The one which would’ve been in front of me had collapsed. The wooden posts’ ropes stretched to the void.

“Is someone there?” A strained voice came from below.

“Meryl?” I looked over the ledge. Meryl was grasping onto one of the ropes, the connecting planks had all fallen off. “You hanging in there?”

“Help.” She didn’t have to tell me. I was already reaching to grab the rope.

I began pulling. It was hell. It would’ve been easier if I had two good arms or at least more blood in the bad one, not to mention the pain of rope burn along an open wound. After forever and a half, Meryl was hoisted up.

Her dress had torn. Her hair was a mess. Her make up was a mess. But she was still gorgeous.

She gasped for air.

“You okay?”

“Yah. I need a minute.”

She used her arm to cover her eyes, but that didn’t hide the tears rolling down the side of her face. I pretended not to notice.

“Why did you come here?” She broke the silence. The question was similar to the first one she asked me that night. I could tell she wasn’t asking for another empty answer.

“I don’t know. There was something I was looking for in this place, but I don’t think it’s here.” Her sincerity didn’t change that I lacked an articulate response. “Why did you come here?”

There was a pause as she digested my answer.

“I think we are pretty different, you and I.” She moved her arm from covering her face and reached towards the ceiling. Her dark eyes cast beyond her hand. “Don’t you think this city is beautiful?”

I shook my head. “I can’t say I do.”

“I came from a small town. My parents were my best friends. I studied hard in order to make them proud and build a good future for us. That was almost all I did.” She took a deep breath to calm herself. “The next thing I knew I ranked first in my country and was accepted into Aster University.”

“And you liked the city?”

“I loved it. It started when I worked in the entertainment district. The parades, the fashion, the parties, the glamorous architecture, the impossible experiences. Have you tried Drops of Icarus? Have you soared through the skies on a flying yacht?“ She paused and lowered her voice. “The people in this crazy city who make a part of it their own.”

“I see.”

She clenched her fist. “I don’t wanna die.”

“You don’t have to. I already found an exit. We just have to get out of here.” I knelt down, meaning to offer a hand. I paused. My hands were a gorey mess.

“Really?” Her tone filled with life. She sat up and pulled me into a kiss.

My heart skipped a bit. Seven of my nails dug into my palms.

It started as a gesture before being rejoined as something more passionate. Even after our lips parted, our faces remained close. Her arms wrapped around my neck kept us close.

“This city is a bit like a kiss, don’t you think? It pulls you in and makes you crave more.” She added another kiss.

“Just don’t be consumed by it.” A moth to a flame. Another kiss. “You really should be more careful. Slow down, look out for danger.”

It was the most advice I could offer her. It was up to her. It was her safety at risk if she didn’t.

“Thank you for worrying.” After a final kiss, she pulled back. She started walking off.

Her kisses were marvelous. I didn’t want to know where she got all her experience. I took a step to follow.

In a barely audible voice I heard her whisper, “I’m sorry.”

A wave of nausea hit me. More than nausea, it zapped all my strength. I didn’t have the energy to stand. I hit the ground and vomited. The world around me blurred. Her silhouette disappeared into the darkness.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

To die for even.

I came to. The blinding pain disappeared. I was alone where I was left.

So, she didn’t make it. I sighed and hit the ground with a dull punch.

I stood up and started running. Anything to keep my mind off of it. There were too many things to keep my mind off of.

I added a thin layer of spit to the push bar. Unnoticable if one didn’t look close enough. It was a worst case fall back.

She could have pushed a different part of the door. She could have noticed the small extra shine my spit gave the push bar. She could have let me know, and we could have tried to search someone down with the little time we had left. Not that there was much time.

The most I could offer was a chance.

Her tanned skin hid her paling. Her makeup hid the bags under her eyes. She held on and held a coherent conversation despite being a level 1, academic student. She was vastly stronger than me.

The rest of the night was a blur. After I ran through the revolving door, using my shawl to push the bar, I fell into a containment room. I opted to pay their doctors to heal me via a system prompt. Then, I screamed.

I screamed. I punched the wall. I held back running headfirst into the wall. Head injuries were complicated to heal. And my over-rationalization made me scream at myself in frustration. I carried on until I passed out.

Hey, I was gonna be healed anyways. Pain as a non-factor, the costs were minimal. It would just be a slightly more expensive bill. Not bad for what I gained.

I woke up in a hospital bed. My surroundings were somehow worse than a stuffy hospital. I was in a basement that could be mistaken for a dungeon on a table that was out of a movie where the saw slowly moves down to cut you in half.

I held my hand up. My finger was reattached. I couldn’t find it in me to be happy. I couldn’t find it in me to be sad either. I felt dissociated, aftereffects of the anesthesia.

A woman in a lab coat entered the room. She had an eye-patch. Given her profession, it was a style choice.

“Money, or I take your finger back.”

[Give money 34,812.05 Eumalian dollars]

I wasn’t sure if the nature of my injuries were cheaper to fix or if Circus members had discounts on healing. I didn’t care.

Accept.

I headed straight home. It was day time, so I was able to order a ride in the inner district. I had to transition rides when I crossed The Wall of Absorption.

When I arrived at my apartment, I walked right to my bed. Then, I slept.

When I woke up, I slept some more.

When I couldn’t sleep any more, I kept my brain off until I could. I didn’t want to feel the intimate pain worse than any beat down, lost finger, or curse. And I didn’t want to face the faint, perverted side of me that was glad to be in anguish over feeling nothing. So, I left all of it hidden in my mental haze.

I only interrupted the cycle to drink water and go to the bathroom. Don’t underestimate my ability to do nothing. It was a skill I tried to keep unused, but it wasn’t to be belittled.

After a number of days not kept track of, delusions set in. I quieted them all by sleeping and not thinking, but I could tell my head or thought process was changing.

I wasn’t alone. I had the gnat as company, although I ignored its existence. One moment I wondered if I dissociated enough, if I wouldn’t blink when it landed on my eye. I dissolved that curiosity as fast as it came. It never landed on me.

Time carried on. It became harder to stop my thoughts.

“What the hell was I thinking?” I asked the gnat on my ceiling.

“Killing others?” Flashbacks of their deaths and the event caused me to vomit clear liquid off the side of my bed. I wiped my mouth.

“Why did I think I could find something there?” Memories of Bruno came back. I couldn’t help but still feel a sense of longing. “What a dumb reason. I was probably only grasping at the one available straw.”

The gnat departed the ceiling and circled above me.

“Survival games? Bah! Survival is hardly worth the effort it takes to say the word.” I slammed my fist onto the bed with all my energy. Gravity contributed more to the hit than the strength I mustered.

“Listen here little guy.” I pointed up to the gnat. It buzzed around my finger. “There’s a price where lottery tickets become too expensive. And like the lottery, everyone is overpaying.”

“Oh, yah?”

I shot up in bed. The voice originated from the gnat. Another hallucination. Some time after the delusion stage, muffled auditory hallucinations started. The noises hadn’t been that lucid, though.

“Yah. An impossible lottery isn’t worth a penny.”

While it caught me by surprise, the gnat talking didn’t feel out of place. The hunger made it difficult for my eyes to focus on it.

“You’re not saying there isn’t a prize. And if one does exist, it should be possible to get.” A blur flew right past my eyes. It was gone before I could process to blink.

“I think there’s a minuscule chance there may be a ‘prize’, and next to impossible odds I could ‘win’ it.” I gestured air quotations around “prize” and “win”. The metaphor fell apart there.

“You sound like a loser.”

I swatted at the gnat, hitting only air.

“Only idiots play the lotto. The odds, and consequently the costs, never match the reward.” I gave up hitting it, letting my arm fall down. “It’s not worth it.”

“Wouldn’t a lottery with an infinite prize pool be worth every penny?” The gnat hovered over me. Perfect striking range.

A swing. A miss.

“Whatever. Back to bed.” I turned to my side.

The gnat flew in the direction I turned. It buzzed past my ear. I smacked my ear.

“Leave me alone.” I tried huddling up, as if that would help. It didn’t.

“I’ll get to all the dream stuff in a bit. Just 5 more minutes.”

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

“You asked for it!” I huffed as loud as my strained voice would let me. I needed water. But first I needed to deal with the gnat.

I sprang up on my bed clapping in the air to try to take out the pest. My movements felt strained under my starvation. Not that my peak self would have been much more successful. The blood rush also made it difficult to see.

I chased it from the bed, throughout the room. I navigated the trash and laundry. My balance was loose from dizziness. Between my steps and swings, I looked drunk.

I chased it into the kitchen, guarding its escape like a basketball defender. I traced its flight path in the kitchen, readying my hands.

Whether due to blood rush or lack of sustenance, my vision began to darken. It entered striking distance.

Clap!

I could only hear my clap, not see it. My eyes had blacked out. My consciousness followed.