Alice stumbled forward, leaning into the wall, painting a red trail of blood with each step. Her breath felt ragged, and her vision blurred. Every step hurt more than the one before it. Continuing forward felt like pure agony. She stopped moving for just a moment to try and collect herself and allow the pain consuming her brain to die down.
Yet, as she stood stationary, she could hear roars of fury and begin to feel the ground beneath her flex. Dust began to fall from the ceiling above, followed soon after by massive chunks of stone. The voice was following her and, from the looks of it, trying to collapse the corridor down upon her.
Alice stared up at the collapsing ceiling above, struggling for a minute to properly process what was happening around her before quickly pushing herself off from the wall. With howls of pain, she set off as fast as she could down the corridor before she found herself crushed by falling rubble.
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Jake stood coated in blood. Whether it was courtesy of the wounds peppered across his body or the consequence of the hordes of beasts clamoring to tear him apart, he couldn’t say anymore. He was exhausted, his every breath a struggle. He’d been forced to fight dozens upon dozens of beasts and monsters for hours on end now, all while the voice fluttered around him, laughing in manic delight.
His wounds had gradually multiplied as time wore on. They lay scattered across his body, ranging from minor scratches and cuts to major gashes gouging deep into his flesh. He’d long ago given up maintaining distance with his throwing knives; there were too many enemies rushing him. He only stayed alive when he abandoned that strategy and engaged the horde up close at the cost of significant injury.
His every move hurt, and his blood spilled freely without end, yet he found himself still able to move, still able to fight, still alive despite how much blood he lost. He supposed the voice wouldn’t let him die, not that easily.
Standing in silence for the first time in hours, Jake relished the opportunity to catch his breath. He didn’t know when the voice would return or the shrieks and cries of wild beats would ring out again, but for now, he was allowed to breathe and bleed in peace. He staggered forward till he reached a wall, still standing after the side corridors revealed themselves, and let his weight press into the stone.
Closing his eyes and leaning into the wall, Jake’s head was a mess. He closed his eyes and felt himself threaten to drift off to sleep, passing out where he stood from loss of blood. He didn’t know where he’d wake up or even if he would, but the sweet embrace of sleep sounded so enticing now. He felt his knees begin to buckle; the world seemed to drift away around him as his senses dulled and spun.
“Kid?”
His eyes snapped open, blinking suddenly to try and steady himself. Pushing back from the wall, he looked around to find a figure shuffling out from one of the side passages. He wore a long black leather cloak draped over his crooked, lanky frame, yet it was stained red with blood. The figure's features were equally crusted crimson, his hair long, matted, and filthy. Blinking a few more times, Jake reached up with his hands to try and wipe some of the filth from his eyes as he watched the figure of Rick emerge from the corridor’s passageways and hobble towards him.
“Kid?”
Rick repeated, his voice sounded coarse and weak. He stumbled forward, grasping the wall, his cloak fluttering around his frame. Jake stood stunned for a second before he rushed forward and grasped hold of Rick’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure what to say. His throat felt stuffy, and words failed him. The idea that this was a trap ever-present in his head, Jake couldn’t stop himself from supporting the falling figure of Rick.
“Kid…” Rick said again, relief in his voice, before suddenly, with a swift slash of his arm, a jagged broken blade flew through the air directly toward Jake’s head. Dropping his hold on Rick’s ragged frame, Jake stepped back just in time as the broken blade dug into his forehead. Fresh steam of blood flowed down his face, blinding him. A second later, he’d have lost his eyes.
“You… it’s your fault…” He heard Rick muttering as he reached up and tried to curb the fresh flow of blood. Despite his best efforts, the sticky fluid flowed directly into his eyes, causing pain and further delaying his efforts to restore his sight. He heard a whooshing sound flying through the air and dodged blindly. He heard metal break against stone as Rick’s knife cracked the ground next to him.
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“You bastard… we should… we should have left you for dead…” He heard Rick mutter directly next to his head now. Furiously pawing at his eyes, Jake finally managed to blink the blood free from his eyes and somewhat restore his sight. Looking around, he saw Rick winding back to slash him again, madness clear in his eyes. With a swallow, Jake gripped hold of one of his own knives and plunged the blade directly into Rick’s neck.
Rick stumbled back, the blade he once owned protruding from his flesh. Blood gurgled in his throat and sprung like a geyser from his wound, a surprised look clear on his face. Yet he didn’t slow down, even as he stood dying, he slashed downward toward Jake with a final, blood-filled scream. His attack missed, knocked off kilter as Jake rolled to the side in a desperate attempt to dodge it, and with one final scream of fury, Rick lay dead on the floor. His body remained. Unlike the beasts Jake had found himself forced to fight in droves, it didn’t deform and melt back into the ground.
Jake sat a while, panting heavily, seriously rattled. He wasn’t sure how to feel. He knew it was a trick, a trap. Yet still the feeling of plunging his blade into Rick’s neck, Rick’s angered screams, his looks of fury, they just wouldn’t leave Jake’s mind. Jake sat a long while, willing to retrieve the knife stuck in Rick’s neck. For the time being, he couldn’t bring himself to approach the corpse. Suddenly, he was dragged from his stupor by a stumbling sound behind him.
Jake reflexively gripped hold of the knife buried in Rick’s neck and tore it free with a disgusting tearing noise that echoed a haunting symphony in his ears. Standing and turning as fast as his battered body would allow, he raised his arm, ready to let his knife fly. Instead, he sat frozen, watching the battered and bleeding form of Alice drag herself out from the side corridor directly behind him.
“Jake!” Alice said, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible yet finding putting any emotion in her words a challenge. Even just speaking without slurring her speech felt like a victory. Jake gave no response to her cry; he just stared at her, arm raised, ready to throw a knife clean into her chest. He stood coated in blood, some wounds still bleeding. He looked even more injured than her, yet he stood standing stock still, knife at the ready. A Knife pointed at her.
Casting a glance around the corridor, Alice saw splatters of blood litter the place in various patterns and arcs. Though she saw no obvious bodies, it was obvious something had to give him those wounds. She took a step forward into the corridor, only to find him retreating back, foot brushing up against a darkened mass on the floor. Looking down, Alice saw a figure sprawled out dead on the floor for the first time. He lay in the darkness, coated in blood, perfectly disguised with the floor. He must have died recently, whoever he was, Alice realized, as the wound carved through his neck was still squirting blood.
“Jake… Please…” Alice said, taking another step forward. He didn’t retreat this time, yet instead stood his ground, knife raised at the ready. Unsure what to do, Alice suddenly heard cruel laughter next to hear followed by a whisper that stung her ears,
“I so love it when a good game comes together, don’t you, dear guest? I have to say, so far, he’s doing a far better job than you are! You might want to pick up the pace…”
Alice jumped in shock at the voice’s sudden return, but Jake gave no sign of ever having heard a thing save for a slight tensing at Alice’s every sudden move.
“Jake… please…” Alice repeated, unsure what she could possibly say to get him to trust her. When she looked into his eyes, all she saw was paranoia and madness. “Please… you… you promised, right? You were going to keep me safe as long as we stuck together, right? I’m not ready to give up yet, so please, Jake…”
She saw his face quiver, a slight ripple of doubt crossing his eyes before a sigh escaped his lips. His hand fell to his side as the knife dropped free to the floor. Sinking to his knees, Jake knelt, staring straight at the floor below. The longer he looked at her, the longer he heard her beg, the longer he heard the fear in her voice, the more certain he became of one thing. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t attack her. Even as she stumbled toward him, injured and bleeding and likely a trap to punish and hurt him, he couldn’t attack her. Not when there was a chance, however slim, she was real.
He simply knelt, staring into the stone below, listening as she hobbled toward him, more certain than ever that pain was coming. Closing his eyes, he felt a calm sense of apathy overtake him. He couldn’t care anymore, couldn’t struggle. He was so tired, so sick of this. Madness crept up his spine with every move he made. He was so sick of fighting back, struggling for nothing. As he sat, waiting for the pain to come, he was suddenly surprised when, instead, she grabbed hold of his shoulders and nearly collapsed into him, pulling him into a hug.
“Been having fun…” Alice said, weak and slurred, yet he saw a slight smile across her lips. A small laugh, the first he’d had in what felt like years, escaped him even as the horror of what he’d nearly done filled him. They simply sat, unsure of what to do and unwilling to move. Still hopelessly trapped. Both were bleeding profusely. Yet now, somehow, escape and survival seemed more likely than ever before.