I clenched my jaw, teeth grinding, as if I could crush the dread spiraling within. This meter was significant, vital. I had to guard it fiercely. It hung there, a reminder of my fragility amidst the chaos, as the weight of past sins pressed heavier on my chest. I could feel them, those ghosts, lurking in the corners of my thoughts, their whispers blending with the whispering shadows.
"Focus," I muttered under my breath, a desperate mantra. I couldn't let it break me. Not now. Not again. But what did I know of focus when everything felt unreal? The very air thickened, heavy with a suffocating dread.
In that moment, I understood: survival wasn't just about keeping my body intact. It was a battle for my mind, a war against the creeping horror that gnawed at the edges of my perception. And as I stared at that pulsing meter, I realized, with chilling clarity, that my greatest enemy was not the darkness outside but the one festering within.
I blinked, and the world warped around me. Shadows stretched like fingers clawing at the corners of my vision—long, sinuous, hungry. The air vibrated, thick with an unnatural hum that rattled the very bones of my reality. Objects trembled, their shapes bending in ways that defied physics; a lamp leaned as if it were trying to whisper a secret to the floor, while the walls pulsed like a living thing, breathing in sync with the chaos.
"Okay, this is not normal," I muttered, barely recognizing my own voice. It felt distant, as if spoken by someone else lost in a dream. My heart raced, pounding like a desperate prisoner against the bars of reason. I could feel the shadows curling around me, probing, testing. Their whispers crawled beneath my skin, filling me with an insatiable dread, a gnawing reminder of all the fears I had buried deep.
"Keep it together, Juan," I told myself, though the words sounded hollow. The Sanity Meter flickered in my mind—a fleeting pulse of light amidst the encroaching darkness. I couldn’t afford to slip. Not now. I had seen what happened when one succumbed to despair.
A disturbance caught my eye, a darker shadow shifting against the wall. It writhed, morphing into something grotesque, something that should not exist. A mass of ink and malice, coiling and uncoiling, its edges fraying into the void. I felt the air grow colder, the hairs on my arms standing at attention. It was alive, aware—and it was watching me.
"Great," I breathed, my mouth dry as I fought the urge to bolt. The creature pulsed and twisted, embodying my worst nightmares, the very essence of terror brought to life. I instinctively stepped back, but the movement felt futile. There was nowhere to escape; it was everywhere, filling the space with its suffocating presence.
"Combat tutorial initiated," an echoing voice rang through my thoughts, cold and clinical.
"Seriously? Now?" I scoffed, adrenaline prickling at the back of my neck. But the voice didn’t care for my sarcasm. It droned on, outlining commands I barely registered as my instincts took over.
The shadow lunged, and I flinched, panic flooding my veins. It was a blasphemous shape—an amalgamation of limbs and eyes, spiraling into incomprehensible forms. I felt my sanity slipping, the meter’s glow dimming like a dying ember. The beast began to writhe faster, more erratic, sending shudders through the very fabric of reality.
"Fight or flight, right?" I whispered, forcing the words past the knot in my throat. My hands shook, trembling with a mix of fear and resolve. I had to confront it. I had no other choice.
"Move!" The command echoed in my skull as I readied myself. Shadows danced around the writhing horror, flickering in mocking laughter. I squared my shoulders, breath hitching in my chest. This was madness, yet here I stood, teetering on the edge of oblivion.
"Just another monster," I lied to myself, heart racing with each beat. But deep down, I knew it was more than that. It was a reflection of every torment I’d ever faced, every moment that had chipped away at my soul. And now, it loomed before me, challenging me to confront my past sins—or be consumed by them.
"Here goes nothing," I thought, preparing to face the nightmare that awaited.
The shadow lunged again, and instinct kicked in like a reflex—a frenzied dance of terror propelling me to action. My fingers tightened around the cold grip of the stolen gun, an anchor in this shifting nightmare. The weapon felt foreign, as if it had been cursed by the darkness surrounding us. I raised it, my heart hammering against my ribs like a caged animal desperate to escape.
"Just fire," I whispered, though the words trembled on my lips. The creature writhed, its form a grotesque parody of life, limbs twisting and contorting in ways no flesh should. It was a vision pulled from the depths of my nightmares—a tapestry woven with fear, regret, and an unbearable weight of despair.
I squeezed the trigger.
The crack of the gunshot shattered the air, reverberating through the chaos. Time slowed; the bullet spiraled forward, a silver shard of defiance aimed at the abyss. But even as I released the shot, I felt a pang of dread coil within me. What had I done? Was this truly survival, or merely another descent into madness?
The recoil jolted my arm, a reminder of the violence I had summoned. I stumbled back, eyes wide, searching for any sign of victory. Instead, I caught sight of the shadow's reaction—an unnatural howl that vibrated through my bones, sending chills racing down my spine.
And then, the world warped further. My Sanity Meter flickered in my periphery, its glow dimming ominously as it dropped by five points. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut: engaging with this horror came at a cost. Each confrontation gnawed at my mind, peeling away layers of sanity like paint from an old wall.
"Not now," I pleaded with myself, feeling the edges of reality blur as anxiety clawed at my throat. I could almost hear the whispers of my past sins rising, echoing through the cacophony of the present. They wouldn’t let me go.
"Focus," I urged, swallowing hard against the bile rising in my throat. My pulse quickened, a frantic rhythm matching the distortion around me, but I fought to regain control. I had fired a weapon, faced a nightmare, and yet here I stood, teetering on the precipice of something far worse.
"Survive," I muttered, grounding myself in that singular word, even as shadows twisted and laughed in mockery. I was not just fighting for my life; I was grappling with the ghosts of my choices, each one dragging me deeper into despair.
The echo of the gunshot still reverberated in my ears, a cruel reminder that I’d just crossed a line I could never uncross. My heart raced as I watched the shadow writhe, its form twisting grotesquely from where it had been struck. A dark ichor oozed from the wound, pooling on the ground like spilled ink—something that should not bleed.
"First Blood," a notification flickered into existence, stark against the chaos. It hung there, taunting me. *You Wounded Something That Should Not Bleed.* A grim satisfaction twisted in my gut, and with it came a wave of nausea. I’d done it; I had hurt something. But what did that make me? The thrill of survival warred with the dread coiling tighter around my throat.
"Just an animal," I muttered, though my voice trembled under the weight of my own denial. I forced myself to breathe, but every inhale tasted bitter, steeped in the horror of what lurked around me. I clutched the gun tightly, knuckles white against the cold metal, and yet I felt so fragile, like a shard of glass ready to shatter.
My reality continued to warp, shadows stretching toward me, fingers beckoning from the corners of my vision. I blinked hard, trying to dispel the visions that danced just beyond my rational grasp. There was no way this was real. No way I was standing in some nightmare where the laws of the world twisted like the sinewy tendrils of the thing I had wounded. Yet here I was, fighting against the impossible, grappling with the gnawing disbelief that threatened to swallow me whole.
"Get it together," I urged myself, but my mind was a battlefield, thoughts colliding, memories resurfacing like ghosts eager to drag me under. Images of lost friends, whispered promises, shadows of choices made too hastily—they all lingered, clawing at the edges of my sanity. Each one shouted louder than the last, drowning out reason with their relentless chorus.
"You're losing it," I whispered, feeling the air thicken around me. My pulse thudded in my ears like a funeral dirge, marking time as I fought to stave off the creeping madness. I staggered back, searching for solid ground in a world that had become nothing more than a painting gone wrong, colors bleeding into one another until nothing made sense.
But instinct pushed me forward, a primal urge to survive clawing at my insides. I had wounded it. I could do it again. The shadows twisted, whispering doubts in languages I couldn’t understand, but beneath the terror, a flicker of determination ignited. I wasn’t just surviving; I was fighting.
"Fight or die," I murmured, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. As the darkness loomed, I steeled myself against it, my grip tightening on the gun. I would face whatever horror awaited. I would not let it consume me completely. Even if the cost was my sanity, I would find a way to push through.
"Survive," I repeated, letting the word resonate within me, a fragile mantra against the relentless tide of despair. But as I stood there, amid the chaos, I felt the shadows closing in, each one a reminder of sins past and horrors yet to come.
The shadows twisted and writhed around me, a grotesque ballet of darkness that defied the very laws of nature. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but the world remained an incomprehensible smear of shapes and colors. Walls stretched like elastic, bending into impossible angles, while furniture floated in the air as if mocking gravity itself.
I took a step forward, heart pounding, and felt the ground ripple beneath my feet, like walking on a surface slick with oil. The air tasted of metal and decay, and each breath threatened to choke me with its oppressive weight. My mind raced, grasping for a thread of sanity as I scanned the room—my sanctuary now transformed into a nightmare.
"Get it together, Juan," I muttered under my breath, but the words barely registered. My grip on the gun tightened, knuckles turning white against the cold steel. I could feel the pulse of dread drumming in my ears, louder than my own heartbeat. Reality was fracturing around me, and I was teetering on the brink of madness.
"Fight or die," I repeated, though the phrase felt more like a curse than a rallying cry. This was no mere game; it was survival against an unseen predator. An overwhelming sense of urgency clawed at my insides. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut: I had to confront whatever lurked in this distorted realm or be consumed by it entirely.
A flicker of movement caught my eye—a shadow darted across the wall, stretching and twisting into forms that should not exist. It slithered along the edges of my vision, beckoning me to succumb to despair. I shuddered, shaking off the paralysis threatening to root me in place. I had fought before; I could fight again.
"Enough!" I shouted into the void, voice cracking with suppressed fear. The shadows recoiled momentarily, as if startled by my defiance. A grim satisfaction welled within me, but it was tainted by the creeping horror still coiling around my mind.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Every instinct screamed at me to flee, yet I stood my ground. I wasn’t just a boy lost in a haunting landscape. I was a survivor. Each distorted shape, each whispering shadow, became fuel for my determination. I could feel the stakes rising, an invisible noose tightening around my throat. If I let fear take over, I would become nothing more than a memory lost to the abyss.
"Survive," I breathed, forcing the word from deep within. I could almost hear the echoes of my past—every time I’d been weak, every time I’d been pushed down. I wouldn’t allow that to happen again. Not here, not now. With every ounce of resolve, I readied myself to face the horrors lurking just beyond the veil of sanity.
The air shimmered, thick with anticipation. Shadows danced closer, and I prepared for the fight, knowing that only one of us would emerge intact.
The shadows twisted and writhed like serpents in the dim light, mocking my every breath. I stepped forward, heart pounding, each footfall echoing with a hollow resonance that sent shards of ice through my veins. The world around me flickered, a grotesque painting smeared by an unseen hand—walls pulsated as if they were alive, breathing in tandem with my escalating fear.
"Just find safety," I muttered, more to myself than anything else. My voice sounded foreign, swallowed by the oppressive gloom. I darted past a warped table, its legs bending at impossible angles, splintered wood groaning under the weight of something unseen. I could feel the air thickening, a suffocating blanket that threatened to crush me into the ground.
I had to move. Instinct propelled me forward, dodging the jagged edges of reality that loomed threateningly. Each corner I rounded revealed another distortion—a door that led nowhere, a window that opened into a void. Panic clawed at my chest, but I shoved it down, forcing myself to focus. I was a creature driven by survival, and I would not yield to this madness.
The Sanity Meter flickered in my mind’s eye, a haunting reminder of the fragility tethering me to existence. It dangled above me like the blade of Damocles, swinging precariously. I could almost hear its ticking, counting down the moments until I spiraled into darkness. My hands trembled as I gripped the stolen gun, knuckles white against the cold metal. I had faced worse—bullies, betrayal—but this… this was another realm entirely.
"Keep moving," I whispered, urgency fueling my limbs. My sneakers squeaked against the warped floorboards, the sounds swallowed by the insatiable shadows. They echoed back, taunting me, whispering secrets of despair. With every step, the weight of dread settled heavier on my shoulders; I could feel the abyss lurking just beyond reach, waiting for my slip.
A flicker to my left caught my attention. I spun, heart racing. Shadows danced in erratic patterns, weaving stories of torment and regret. I felt their chill wrap around me as I searched for a place—any place—to hide. A small alcove loomed ahead, barely visible beneath the swirling darkness. Safety, or perhaps just a pause in the storm.
I lunged toward it, crouching low, heart hammering wildly against my ribs. My breath came in shallow gasps, each inhalation a struggle against the gathering maelstrom. The Sanity Meter blinked ominously, thrumming with the pulse of my anxiety. Five points lost when I fired. What would happen if I faltered again?
"Think, Juan!" I hissed, clenching my jaw. Memories of my past surged forth—every instance of weakness, every moment of doubt. They clawed at me, beckoning me to surrender. But I wouldn’t yield. Not now.
The shadows pressed closer, fingers of darkness curling around the edges of my hiding place. I could almost see them reaching, yearning for my flesh. Desperation ignited within me, driving my resolve deeper. I wouldn’t let them consume me. I wouldn’t allow the terror to win.
"Stand firm," I breathed, the words barely escaping my lips. I could feel the tension coiling tighter, a noose around my sanity. Yet, in that chaos, I found a flicker of clarity. Survival wasn’t just instinct; it was a choice. And I was still here, still fighting, still breathing despite the encroaching dread.
With a deep breath, I steeled myself, ready to face whatever nightmare awaited beyond the alcove, knowing that the battle for my mind had only just begun.
I pushed off the wall, heart hammering in my chest like a caged animal desperate for freedom. The shadows twisted and shrank away as I moved, only to surge back with an insatiable hunger. My scuffed sneakers whispered against the cold ground, each step a silent plea to remain unseen.
"Keep it together," I muttered through clenched teeth. The Sanity Meter flickered at the edge of my vision—a malevolent reminder that every choice could plunge me deeper into madness. A bead of sweat trickled down my spine, chilling me as it traced a path toward despair.
I darted between two warped structures, their forms bending and swaying as if they were alive, producing an unsettling rhythm that thrummed beneath my skin. I felt the tremors ripple through the air, vibrating against my bones. They mocked me with their fluidity; how could anything be so beautiful and terrifying?
"Don't think about it. Just survive." My voice was raw, echoing back at me from the dark corners that seemed to leer. I let my instincts guide me, weaving through the chaos, but each movement felt more precarious than the last.
Ahead, a doorway loomed like a gaping maw. My pulse quickened, urging me forward despite the gnawing doubt that clawed at my mind. What lay beyond? Safety or another nightmare? No answer came. Only silence wrapped in dread.
I slipped inside, breath hitching as the shadows receded. For a moment, the fabric of reality hung still, suspended in a heavy quiet. I leaned against the door, trying to catch my breath, but the walls seemed to close in, pressing against my psyche. The Sanity Meter pulsed dimly, a slow heartbeat reminding me that I was still tethered to something—if only barely.
"Just breathe," I told myself, but the words tasted bitter on my tongue. Memories surged up unbidden: the taunts, the laughter of Diego and his crew, the weight of loneliness that had been my only companion. Those ghosts haunted the periphery of my thoughts, eager to drag me down into the depths.
"Not now," I hissed, shaking my head violently, as if that could shake them loose. The shadows behind me shifted restlessly, their whispers teasing at my ears. I couldn’t afford to falter. Not here, not now.
As I stood there, I let the stillness settle around me, a brief reprieve from the chaos outside. It allowed me to gather what little resolve remained, threading it into a fragile tapestry of determination. This wasn’t just a fight for survival; it was a battle for my sanity, my identity.
"Whatever this is, I will not fall apart," I vowed, feeling the weight of those promises anchor me. Yet, in the marrow of my bones, I sensed the lurking dread—the certainty that the horrors I faced were only the beginning.
The silence shattered abruptly, a scraping sound echoing through the room. I jolted upright, adrenaline surging anew. The shadows stirred, shifting like restless spirits. Instinct kicked in, pushing me back toward action. There would be no time for reflection now.
But even as I prepared to move, my mind waged war against itself. Each moment of stillness felt like a countdown, a reminder that dread was always just a breath away. I swallowed hard, tasting the sharp tang of fear mingled with desperation, and stepped cautiously toward the source of the sound.
"Face it, Juan," I murmured, forcing myself to confront the abyss. "You’re here to survive. You’ll do whatever it takes."
And yet, deep down, I knew that survival would come at a cost—one I couldn't yet fathom. In that fleeting instance, I understood the darkness ahead was not merely external; it lurked within, waiting patiently for its chance to consume me whole.
I leaped into the shadow-choked hallway, heart hammering in my chest, the air thick with a suffocating dread that gnawed at my sanity. Each step felt like a betrayal of my instincts, but retreat was not an option. I could hear it—the low, guttural whisper that burrowed under my skin, promising doom.
"Just shadows," I muttered to myself, gripping the baseball bat tighter. But the shadows writhed, alive and insatiable, stretching out fingers that clawed at my memories, at my resolve. The walls trembled as if they were about to collapse, each vibration a reminder of my fragility.
With every beat of my heart, I caught glimpses of things I couldn’t name—figures flickering just beyond the edge of my vision, their forms twisted by despair. My breath hitched, a tremor coursing through me. Fear clawed its way up my throat. Was I losing myself? Or had I lost myself already?
"Focus," I whispered, though my voice sounded foreign even to me. It was just noise in this world gone mad, where reason twisted like the shadows around me. I forced my feet forward, racing against the invisible tide of darkness that pulled at my heels.
There was no room for hesitation. In this wretched place, every moment counted. With each echoing footfall, I felt the weight of my past pressing down, a reminder of all the pain I’d endured. Diego’s laughter, sharp and cruel, sliced through the fog of my thoughts—his taunts, my failures.
"Survival isn’t about strength," I reminded myself, but I couldn’t shake the sense that strength would betray me. Every choice bore consequences, and the cost of survival loomed over me like a specter. My Sanity Meter flickered in my peripheral vision, a cruel reminder of how close I was to slipping from this reality into that yawning void.
"Why am I still here?" I asked the darkness, knowing it wouldn’t answer. But there was a flicker of something within me—a grim determination that pushed back against the encroaching madness. I was more than the boy who drowned in nightmares; I was something else now, forged by fear and rage.
A sudden crash echoed through the corridor, shattering the fragile stillness. I flinched, adrenaline surging through my veins. I had to move. I had to fight. With every pulse of terror coursing through me, I felt the residue of doubt clinging like smoke, threatening to choke me.
"Whatever comes next," I thought, "you face it."
But deep inside, I knew the truth: nothing would prepare me for what lay ahead. The shadows were gathering, whispering secrets of torment and horror that awaited. I could sense them, lurking just beyond the edges of my perception, like phantoms from a past I couldn't escape.
"Stay strong," I urged myself, pushing forward into the abyss, knowing that the path ahead twisted unpredictably. Each step could lead to salvation—or to a reckoning with the terrors that haunted me.
As I stepped deeper into the unknown, I caught a glimpse of something terrible shifting in the dark, and for a moment, I froze. The air vibrated with anticipation, the palpable tension tightening around my throat. But I steeled myself, forcing my legs to move, one step at a time.
The way would be fraught with challenges, but I understood now that survival meant embracing the chaos. I couldn't turn away from the darkness—it was part of me, entwined with my very existence. And so, I continued into the depths, ready or not for the horrors that awaited.