12:47 AM

She opened her eyes. Her head spun as the red fog slowly dissipated, revealing her new environment. It was an old wooden house — a stark contrast to the stone, rigid prison she had just escaped from. Aging wood caged her in a long hallway, which stretched deep into the void beyond. The red mist still floated near the ground. Paintings of faceless men and women were hung every few feet. Their empty heads froze the girl. A new feeling came upon her. It was in her mind — a slow trickle calmly ushering her ahead. She hadn’t felt it in the room, but she felt it now.

She hesitated to move forward; however, after a few seconds, she began to realize what was happening. I’m hallucinating. Her breaths quickened again, each rapid intake becoming shallower and weaker. She closed her eyes once more, praying the nightmare would cease. She crouched to the ground, gently curling herself into a protective shell. She whispered to herself silently for it to all end. But it didn’t.

She sat there for what felt like hours. Sometimes she looked up, only to find that the elderly wooden hallway remained. Afterward, she would sob again, continuing her prayers. It must be a dream. This must be a nightmare. The more she pondered on the idea, the more it comforted her. The transition from that stone room to the wooden hallway had been abrupt — as if it were some tormented dream. No. This is too real. This feels too real. If I want to live, I have to leave. I have to leave. I have to leave. She repeated the phrase in her mind several more times. The trickle increased as her mind raced. The girl sighed; she quaked as she pushed herself up and stood. She took a final breath as she finally began to walk.

With each methodical step, the floor creaked vehemently — practically announcing the girl’s arrival into the haunting halls. The further she walked, the colder it became. Her shivers became less fearful and more from the harsh cold. The red gas also drifted away until it was unseeable. She wasn’t sure whether or not it was there, though it seemed to have disappeared completely. The paintings still hung from the walls, yet they were more sporadic in their appearances. Darkness continued to consume her the deeper she went — not so much physically as mentally, as if a river was rushing through her brain, demanding she find something crucial to herself that was hidden. The river roared. She didn’t mind it, though. It distracted her from the horror surrounding her.

After a few minutes of walking, a strange sound arose. It was a quiet static coming from deeper down the hallway. She stopped, wondering whether to turn back. No. She hadn’t stopped. The river called her forward. She was still walking. The static became louder as the darkness began to fade. Ahead, the girl noticed a small wooden stand. She couldn’t quite make out what was on it, though she continued to walk towards it. She also realized that the hallway ended there, bending in another direction. The fear shrunk slightly, but she couldn’t figure out why. The paintings had vanished by now as she approached the stand.

Upon it was a picture of a family. The man — who had brown hair and stubble across his chin — was vibrant holding his young daughter in his lap. Next to him was his wife, a brunette also, who held a young boy. They looked to be twins around the age of three or four. The daughter’s face, however, was different from the others. It sagged, both her pupils missing from her eyes. Her mouth screamed senseless words. Her eyes, nose, and mouth were shifted from their normal spots, not too out-of-place but just enough to freeze the girl with utter disturbing terror. She stepped away. The river had stopped for a moment. She breathed. Her eyes moved, focusing on what lay to the right of the picture frame.

It was a radio. The static continued to stream from the black box, now much louder. The girl stared at it curiously. The river surfaced once more. She reached her hand out to touch it. As she did, the box instantly went silent — the silence nearly more deafening than the static. A few seconds passed. The river swelled as another sound emerged from the radio. It was a broadcaster. His voice was light and exaggerated.

“Good morning Tornado!” the voice exclaimed with passionate vigor. “We’ve got a lot to talk about this morning; however, we’ve got some big news to announce. After a year of construction, Sunrise Laboratories is officially opening. A note was given to me by the employers to play for all you Tornado folk looking for a new job. I know the large market businesses aren’t doing anyone favors, but you’ll wanna hear this one.” A new voice began. It was feminine and direct as a charming jingle loitered in the background of her speech.

“Interviews will begin in three days. Arrive at the main entrance of the laboratory no later than noon as that will be when doors open. I will be there to welcome you. Wait in the main lobby until the interviewers lead you into the interviewing room. Job openings include data management positions, science-focused positions such as all types of chemists, biologists, and physicists — degrees required for these positions — technicians, and janitors. This offer reaches out from the center Tornado area as numerous messages akin to this one have been broadcast in nearby towns and cities. The interviewing process may take several days so please be patient. Thank you for your time and we hope to see you at Sunrise Laboratories.” The music stopped. An eerie hum entered the room — it was the hum of the light above her, dangling. Watching. The broadcaster returned.

“The creation of Sunrise has already estimated to provide nearly 50 more jobs to the surrounding towns and that number is believed to only rise in the coming years. Thanks to the brilliance of the two founders, Dr. — ” the voice cut off. A deep, agonizing groan came from the radio. The girl’s heart dropped for a moment, inching away from the wooden stand. The sound only got louder. She stumbled to the hard wooden floor, her eyes locked onto the radio. She tried to look away but the river in her mind forced her gaze. The groan quickly became a scream. It was of a young girl, though it was hardly noticeable. Despite the slight feminine tone of the sound, it was heavy and slow. It hurt to listen to. The girl closed her eyes and as she did, the screaming halted, returning to the broadcaster who resumed his monologue.

“Sunrise Laboratories has delivered hope to a struggling people. Through hard work and determination, the partners toiled together, forging a bond and building a company from the ground up. Their story is a successful demonstration of how far labor, education, and dreams

can take you in life. But more on their stories later…” The radio faded back into static. The girl sat there for a minute, her eyes shifting between the picture and the small black radio. Had that been that girl? She didn’t know. The voice was so distorted she could hardly even tell if it had been from a woman. She stepped away a little more.

That’s when she saw it. Two white dots watching her from the darkness. The hallway had stopped and turned left, and far down the wooden hall were two white eyes staring at her. Their eyes locked. They weren’t human, but simply two miniature circles illuminated in the dark. The girl stood erect. Whatever beast it was it was far away, but it was tall — the eyes were at least seven feet off the ground. She tried to scream, her mouth opening agape. But no sound came out. The hollow hum of the light persisted. A few seconds passed. The eyes shifted, moving to the left and out of sight. She presumed the monster had been standing by a corner. How long was it watching? How did I not notice it earlier? The girl mentally scolded herself.

The river returned. It stopped for a moment, once she locked eyes with that thing, but now it was back. She took a step forward and began inching down the hallway. Inching towards where that monster had been. Her heart dropped, but she couldn’t stop herself. The river was too strong. She could hardly think. It was too much. This was too much. But her mind wouldn’t even allow her to process what she had seen. It forced her ahead. Each step felt louder than the last, violently echoing through her skull. The hall grew darker and darker. Colder. The paintings that had lined the walls had disappeared. All the walls became more cracked the further she walked like the very house she inhabited was dying.

She wandered for what seemed like hours down the same hallway. In reality, she knew, it had only been a few minutes. But it hadn’t felt like it. Another sound appeared. It was a quiet static again. Another radio? To the girl, the last radio hadn’t made any sense. She thought it was her mind playing tricks on her since she had awoken in a laboratory. Maybe it’ll tell me who I am. She hoped it, but she didn’t believe it.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The hallway stopped once more, bending both left and right this time. An intersection. Another small table stood before her. It was the same photo as before, but it had been changed. The young boy’s face now sagged to the floor, his facial features splattered across his face like blood. He was crying out in pain. That wasn’t even the worst part. The little girl had been further mutilated. The young girl the photo stared at was staring at her. One of the child’s eyes had completely disappeared; the other was black and hollow. A strange, viscous liquid poured from it as well as her mouth, nose, and ears. Her arms were broken and her legs appeared shattered. The girl — the real girl — wanted to vomit just looking at her. It was disgusting her mind had taken her here. But she couldn’t stop looking. The river rushed.

The girl looked to her right, down at the radio. It was the same as the one earlier — a little black box. She inhaled deeply, wrangling control of her own body for a mere moment before her hand touched the radio. The static stopped. What sounded like deep, heavy breathing accompanied by the occasional visceral scream played in the distant background as the broadcaster from before — whose voice was considerably dragged out and deeper — announced a new alert.

“Apologies for interrupting your scheduled programming. Heartbreaking news this morning as of 3:48 AM, police have discovered the body of one—” the broadcaster stopped. For a few seconds, the awful, distorted screams became unnaturally loud, rattling the girl. The broadcaster quickly continued.

“—at an uninhabited house. The police have refused to give the address. The parents have declined to comment after filing their children as missing a few days ago. While not necessarily pressing news to the public, as we understand, the, uh, state of the boy compelled Chief Officer Reggie Johnson to make a statement about the matter. Chief Jackson will make another public statement about the incident at noon today.” The voice changed. It was a gruff, harsh tone that provided further dialogue.

“Hello. At approximately 2:36 AM, we received a tip that the children missing could be found at the address of that uninhabited home mentioned earlier. I will not give an address at this time to protect the integrity of the crime scene. Police stormed the house at 3:03 AM. The state of the house was in disrepair and our officers struggled to locate the missing children. After ten minutes of searching, they were inconclusive in their search until one of our officers discovered what appeared to be a bookshelf covering a door. After sliding it, we found a hidden basement that led down into a dark and—” Reggie paused for a moment. “—and simply disgusting room. It was tight and smelled awful. In the center of the room, we found the body of the young boy.

“He had been cut open from the chest. Many of his central internal organs were… removed from the body. They were scattered on top of a nearby table along with a variety of microscopes and other biological equipment. The boy had recent red marks on his throat, indicating that the boy was conscious for some part of this process or after. The boy’s twin sister was unable to be found at the scene and we currently presume she was taken to another location. There are no leads at this time and we request your patience as we investigate.

“We wanted to alert everyone to the situation due to its severity. Please, to prevent more of these cases we ask that you lock your doors and windows and follow a strict 8:00 PM curfew. While the curfew cannot be enforced by law, we request you abide by it for the sake of your and your children’s lives. The murder is being investigated thoroughly so there is no need for panic — simply follow the measures we’ve again and you will be safe. Thank you for your time.”

The radio static returned. The girl stared at the box, the river tearing across her mind. What was that? Thoughts of that young boy painted themselves in her mind. His body was cut open? She winced in disgust at the thought of the officer’s description. Why am I being shown this? At first, she believed her mind was trying to help reclaim her memories, but it was clear to her this was something else entirely. It was disturbing. It was disgusting. It was horrid. She just wanted to go home. Where’s home? The question gnawed at her. Even if she escaped whatever hell she found herself in, the girl had nowhere to go. She didn’t even know her own name. No. Just focus on getting out. You have to.

The girl inhaled, the stale air instilling a faux confidence within her. She turned and began to examine the pathways. Both hallways were the same — long, conniving stretches of unnerving darkness that spiraled for eternity. No eyes were watching her anymore. She was alone. That’s a lie. She could feel it — that frozen feeling when someone’s eyes lay upon you. It made her shutter, but the river pushed her forward. The endless hum of the lights above her grew louder.

She chose the left path. Every step reverberated within her mind as she steamed ahead in total terror. As she walked, a burning sensation arose. The girl searched for the feeling, looking down at herself. Her arms were soaked in blood. But it wasn’t blood — she realized. It was too bright to be blood. The last time she checked her injuries, the wraps were stained by a muddy mix of reddish-brown. Now, they were soaked in a brilliant red. She paused, thinking to herself. I’ve seen this color before. She looked as though she was bleeding the red serum she uncovered in the office. It was as though her mind itself had wanted her to see that. It was trying to remind her of something. But what? She tried to ponder over it, but the river resumed its rage, taking control of her once more and pressing onward.

Minutes passed. While she walked, the girl noticed that the hall began to narrow, shrinking slowly — barely noticeable, but just enough to recognize after a couple of minutes. She tensed, her arms flexing in a form of self-defense. She prepared herself for the monster she saw to spring from the darkness to kill her. She squinted her eyes, trying to peer into the dark murk ahead of her. The hall continued to shrink. In the distance, the girl caught the gleam of a small sparkle. It wasn’t the white dotted eyes she spotted earlier, but the metallic reflection of the old lights hanging above. It was an iron door that fit snuggly into the hallway. A single handle was attached.

The girl approached it. Her reason demanded she run. It’s a trap of some kind. Stop. But the river roared. Her arm reached out. Stop. She grasped the handle. Stop. She began to pull. Stop! The door followed her command. Stop!

She paused. She had done it. The river was gone. She was in control again. But it was too late. The door was open and she could see inside the room. It was a hollow bedroom. A window was ajar in front of her — she could feel the gentle breeze brush against her. Two beds sat in the corner of the room. Empty. The bed sheets were scattered, some of them lying on the floor while others clung to the mattress. A single withering shelf sat between them — a lamp sat upon it. The lampshade was old and decaying. There was a closet left open to her right, though nothing was inside. The girl walked into the room.

The door behind her slammed, causing the girl to jump. She stopped, her eyes darting from the bed to the stand, to the window, to the closet in a rapid, incoherent movement. Her pupils dilated. She turned to face the open window. The fresh air was nice and a stark contrast to the musty, stagnant air that filled the halls. The girl approached the windowsill as the moonlight shone upon her face. She gazed out — staring upon an empty forest. The trees were thick and swayed in the wind. For a moment, she thought she saw a dark silhouette staring at her, but the moment she noticed it — it disappeared. She wasn’t sure if it had shrunk into the woods or if it was a shadow playing tricks on her eyes; nonetheless, it rattled her.

A thunderous boom filled the room. It had come from the door behind her, which transformed into a fragile, wooden door. The girl shrieked, tripping and falling against the window. She caught herself on the sill and stared at the door. Another crash echoed — the door shook from the impact. It’s the monster. I knew it was a trap. The girl gazed back at the window. It’s too high. I’ll die. Another crash. In a panic, the girl hastily searched the room in hopes of finding an escape. Another crash. I have to hide. She looked at the closet. Another crash. The door was breaking. The girl flew into the closet, promptly shutting the closet door. Another crash, this time followed by the sound of shattering wood.

The girl suppressed a scream. The sunken echo of wind wailed. A pounding footstep smashed into the ground, shaking the room. A second followed, this one barely louder than the other. It’s coming to the closet. She shrunk, begging for freedom in silence. The footsteps got closer until stopping. She could hear its labored breaths. Oh no. A hand grasped the outside of the closet. The girl closed her eyes and whispered goodbye.