I awoke in a sterile room, my movements under my control but my body aching as if I had been given countless injections. The white walls and harsh fluorescent lighting created an oppressive atmosphere. I couldn’t remember much, but the environment felt both unfamiliar and hauntingly déjà vu.

As I drifted into a groggy state, the line between reality and hallucination blurred. I found myself in a vast, misty landscape, the sky swirling with ominous clouds and shifting colors. The fog seemed to wrap around me, distorting my sense of time and space. Ghostly figures appeared and vanished, their faces obscured, whispering fragmented memories and warnings.

In this disorienting dreamscape, I saw myself as a child again, standing in the doorway of our old wooden duplex. Blood smeared on the floor led to the kitchen. I saw a woman who seemed to be my mother. My mother’s crazed figure appeared, drenched in blood. Her voice was a distorted echo, “He said he wants to be with you, Akio! He said—”

The scene shifted violently, and I was back in the cold, dark freezer, the door slamming shut behind me. My screams echoed off the metal walls, but no one answered. The claustrophobia was overwhelming, and I struggled to breathe.

Suddenly, the dream shattered, and I was back in the sterile room. My heart raced, and my breath came in shallow gasps. Was it a dream or a memory? The past felt like a surreal haze, blending with the present in a nightmarish cycle.

A beep signaled the door sliding open. A man with black hair entered and said, "Follow me," his tone firm but devoid of warmth. Despite my weakness, I managed to follow him through a labyrinthine hallway lined with identical doors. We finally reached a large door, which he unlocked with a card, revealing a dining area.

I sat alone as a woman in an apron and mask brought my food. At first, I wasn't hungry, but the sight of the food made my mouth water. It tasted bland but was strangely addictive, almost as if something had been added to it. As I ate, a slightly older teen approached with a friendly smile. "You're the new guy here, right? May I sit?"

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

I initially ignored him, but his persistence wore me down. Eventually, I engaged in conversation.

I asked him who he was, and he replied, "I don't know who I am. Nobody knows." I sighed and asked how long he had been here. He didn't know but mentioned that I arrived a few weeks after him.

Just then, an alarm blared, cutting our conversation short. A voice from a loudspeaker instructed everyone to gather around. A large screen flickered to life, showing a faceless figure.

“I’m sure you’re confused about why you’re here,” the voice said. “Don’t worry; you’re in good hands. You’re all sick and need treatment.”

Murmurs spread through the crowd—“Sick? Me sick?”

The voice continued, “Yes, you’re all sick and need treatment. After treatment, you can return home. Your sickness erased your memories of being brought here, but—”

The announcement was interrupted by a large man, around twenty-two, who had been sitting across from me. He stood up, his face contorted with anger and fear. He grabbed a fork from his tray and held it to the woman’s throat, threatening, “I’m not sick! If you don’t let me out, I’ll kill her!”

The tension in the room escalated as one of the men operating the screen drew a gun and shot both the man and the woman. The atmosphere turned ominous and terrifying. The voice on the screen, now feigning tears, said, “I don’t want to hurt you, but the sickness had already begun to spread in him. We had no choice. I promise to treat you all before you’re fully healed. You may return to your rooms now.”

The encounter left us all shaken, the grim reality of our situation sinking in. We faced the harsh possibility that we might never escape this hellish place.

As I lay in my room, trying to piece together what was real and what was a product of my fractured mind, the dream I had earlier replayed in my thoughts. The haunting images of my mother, the blood, and the cold, dark freezer seemed to merge with the current nightmare.

Was it all just a product of my fractured mind? Or was my past, whether dream or memory, still haunting me, trapped in this nightmarish cycle? The uncertainty gnawed at me, adding to the pervasive dread of my current predicament.