Four walls. Pulling down the hanging bodies and wiping off the paste of the dead, we were left with four stone walls, void of any holes, cracks, weaknesses. The floor, unfortunately, was impossible to make visible with the blood pooling up to our ankles. However, we still managed to run our hands and feet along it, and the floor was just the same. The room really only had one thing about it that seemed like a potential for escape. Hanging above us was a lightbulb on a wire, connected to the, equally to all other parts of the room, bare ceiling. It made the ceiling the best bet.

“Assuming actual logic of course, which, I don’t know if that really applies here?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” I rub my chin, narrowing my gaze. Even so, It was a better lead than nothing. My glove turned my old reliable revolver, and aiming at the ceiling, I fired off a shot. The bullet shot through, however, left no hole or mark of having made any impact. Brilliant. That leaves a couple possibilities.

“Automatic repair? Deletion for the sake of protection? No, it definitely looked like it made it through. So what is it?” She pondered it, before something seemed to click in her mind. She bent down, sucked in, and pulled off the barely held together finger off a body’s hand. She held it, pulled back, and threw it at the ceiling. It smacked against it, falling back down.

“So, automatic repair then?”

“I don’t think so.” Mina nodded. “It must have to do with speed. Try shooting again.” I do as told, and the same result. An undamaged ceiling, a missing bullet. “Yeah, that feels like the ticket.” She grins.

“Are you a fan of puzzles?”

“Mm? I dunno.” She brushes me, pointing to one of the walls. “Try shooting a wall next. Maybe they’re the same.” I take aim and shoot.

“Hey, it worked. So, what does that mean exactly?”

“I…don’t know.” Faced by sudden and complete defeat, Mina falls back on her ass. “There’s no way we’re gonna be able to move as fast as a bullet. Damnit…” She covers her face. “Ughhh, what do we do?” It’s true. The speed situation is an impossible one. If there is a way out of here, there has to be some other reason. What else about the bullet is unique? Unique things about the bullet, unique things about…wait…maybe…

“Let’s try this.” I wave the gloves off my hands. Mina looks up, in time to watch as I grip around my left wrist and, with a grunt, slowly start to tear it off. Her eyes widen and I think I hear her scream as the skin and meat start to slip away, leaving in its place a static akin to that of a dead signal. Once the remains fall into the blood at my feet, I take a breath.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” I hear her yell.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t really hurt. It always just feels sort of numb. Kind of like when your leg falls asleep.”

“THAT’S, WHAT, NO! HOW THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?!”

“Oh. It’s just…something I can do? Hang on.” Placing my fingers back at the wrist, my fingers ascend up the static, forming a hand different than the one before. A similar skin tone, save for healed scars and black painted nails. “See? New hand.”

“A…aaa…” She still seemed freaked out. I turn my attention back to the wall.

“I think this may also work. You see, we can’t pass through, that finger couldn’t pass through, but the bullet could. If it is possible for us to get out, then speed can’t be what’s going on.” I hold my new hand up, just in front of the wall. “So, what else about the bullet makes it different?”

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“U…uhm…what else…is it…” I bring my hand forward as she speaks, and like magic, it goes through. A cool wetness lies beyond the wall. I feel it overwhelming my senses, forcing me to drag it back in.

“It wasn’t accounted for.” I hear her stand up behind me, dashing over and grabbing my hand, placid her own against the wall.

“Explain.”

“He may have known I had a gun, but he couldn’t place it on me because it's attached to my glove, and he has no way of knowing that unless he’s seen that himself. So, it breaks this place. It seems like it can only contain specifically what he made it to contain. This new hand isn’t accounted for, so It can pass through.”

“O-oh.” A wave of emotion passes over her face as she steps back. “So, it should be possible for you to get through. I think that may leave me completely high and dry though. I can’t do anything like that.” That’s true. How does she get out of here?

“Hmm…maybe if we shared a body.”

“...huh?”

“You wanna try it?”

“Is that possible?!”

“I dunno. It could be. If it isn’t, it’s not like we lose anything.” She seems incredibly hesitant. “I;m not gonna do anything to hurt you or anything. That’s not my job, remember?”

“Right. Sorry, I…” She sighs, holding her head. “I’m too lost. None of this is normal, I don’t…know how to take a single thing that’s happening.”

“Ah. That’s understandable.” I look away. “We can talk all about it when I get you out of here, but, until then, I guess I just need you to trust me.”

“I do…that’s still asking alot. You…ripped your hand off…” She shakes your head. “Just tell me how to do this sharing a body thing.” I nod along.

“I’m thinking I’ll need to tear this body off, and grow one around us.” That sounds like the most logical thing to try.

“Your whole body. That sounds horrifying.”

“You don’t have to watch.”

“I didn’t plan on it.” She breathes, turning around. “Just, tell me when you’re done.”

“Alright.” I stare down at my hands as she turns away. When was the last time I’ve torn off more than just my head. It’s not something I do often, there’s not usually a reason to. It always feels strange. That numbness fully enraptures me. Close to death, perhaps even brothers. I take my hands, bring them to my chest, and begin to pull. Tearing away, the skin, the meat, the image of translation that describes me, it crumbles and strips and falls to the floor, disgusting lumps rotting into ash before me. I tear more, watching it peel back to my sides. My legs pushed through, splitting through and leaving my old self hanging off just my arms and single leg. I pull myself through, watching that static morph and squish around as I free myself completely. It stings, like pricking needles, the numbness separating me completely from reality. I hate this.

I do not belong in this world is all I can feel screaming from my core to every single cell outside me. I look over to the woman, still looking away, and find myself incapable of speaking. All that comes through is noise. Simple noise. I move without feeling, all actions defined and actable solely by my desire to perform them. In that, my arms move because I wish them too, wrap around her body because I want to feel her. To combine with her and become whole with her, so we can leave this place behind.

I don’t understand why it happens, but when I touch her, the numbness becomes sensation. My arm can feel the soft warmness of her hoodie, heated by her soul. How such a thing could be wracked my brain. Are you alive? Are you a ghost? How can this ghost feel like a woman? She looks up at me, and rather than fear, I see tiredness in her eyes. As if her senses are leaving her behind as she observes me observing her.

“David?” I don’t hear her say it. I feel her say it, her words flowing through my presence as I watch her start to enter me, her body fading into my numbness and becoming warmth. My vision flourishes with new sights, but even as my periphery is invaded with the indistinct globs of blinding euphoria, I stay focused on the woman becoming one with me. She says something else, drool slipping through the side of her mouth. “God?” It awakens a base instinct. Something escapes me. Words, in a voice I don’t recognize.

“I want to devour you.”