I screamed.

Granted, I didn’t scream as hard as I had done the first time and the scream only lasted only a second. I even managed to not fall out of bed. I looked up to the bland ceiling, little specks appearing in my field of vision as the LED light burned itself on my retina.

“Alright,” I said to myself. “I can believe a repeating dream within a dream, but if this happens again there’s something else going on.”

I stood up from the bed, grabbed the mirror and smashed it against the wall. Repeating my previous actions, I grabbed the biggest piece and crafted a makeshift handle from my bed linen. Hiding it in my sleeve, I opened the door and made my way down the hallway. The elderly man from room seventy-nine had only barely opened his door by the time I found myself in the main hall. I weaved my way through the growing crowd towards the center of the hall and looked around.

In a few minutes, one of these men would strike the first blow and stab another. Who was it? Who looked nervous? Who had a suspicious air about them? Whose eyes were darting from one person to the other?

There.

A lean, pale man sat hunched down in a chair, both hands hidden away between his legs. I met his eyes and saw a darkness in them. Lifeless eyes. Suspecting eyes that held mine for a heartbeat. As quick as the moment happened it was gone again.

The bells chimed. “Welcome. You are confined to this building. There is but one exit, which will open once only three of you remain.” Another chime.

I kept my eyes on the man in the chair, who now stood up and mingled with the crowd. Seconds later, my suspicions were confirmed as he grabbed a man from behind and slashed at his throat. The cut was bad though as the victim pushed the knife, and the man, away. In the blink of an eye, the attacker had disappeared behind a few others.

The wounded man turned around frantically. “He slashed me! He has a knife!”

As quick as he had retracted, the man sprung forward again and stabbed his victim straight in the heart.

“That’s one down,” the attacker growled. “Let’s count down to three!”

The exact same pattern, I realized. This was the third time I heard these exact words. This wasn’t a dream, I now fully accepted. I had no idea where I was or why I was here, but what I did know was that when I died, I got a do-over.

“Fuck!” I said out loud, more out of frustration than anger. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I was barely aware of the chaos around me. People falling, trampling over one another, attacking anyone within reach… I simply sat myself down in a vacant chair, glass knife still hidden in my sleeve, and gave myself a moment to think. People died around me, but I only had one thing on my mind.

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What. The. Fuck.

Not much of a thought, I’ll admit that much, but it was fitting considering my current situation. Maybe I should be a bit more varied in my thought process.

What. The. Shit. Fuck.

Yeah, that was better.

I looked up from where I sat, and was surprised to see the main hall almost empty. Well, except for the several bodies splayed around the floor of course. The sight of it all should have shocked me, I knew, but for some reason I didn’t feel much. Why would I? If I died, they would all be alive again.

And then they’d die again.

Shitfuck.

One of the few people in the main hall still standing walked over to me, bloodied knife in hand. The one who had dealt the first strike, I realized. He approached cautiously, knife pointing towards me.

“What’s your deal, 83?” he asked in that growling voice. “Not exciting enough for you?” He motioned to the carnage around him.

I shrugged, hiding my nervousness. The revival after death theory was still just that, a theory. I needed one more sample for the theory to be confirmed. “This all doesn’t matter,” I answered. “It’ll just happen again and again and again.” I looked down at his shirt, deciphering the number seventeen from under the bloodstains. I took a deep breath, made peace with whatever was coming next and launched myself forward, glass knife in hand.

In the blink of an eye, the man countered and ducked under my swing. In one fluid motion, he brought up his knife and plunged straight into my throat.

I gurgled.

And I woke up.

----------------------------------------

I screamed.

But it wasn’t a full-on scream. More like that little scream you do when somebody startles you by dropping a thick book behind you and the thud makes you think the ceiling is collapsing. That kind of scream.

My room’s dull ceiling and LED light was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, I decided. It was a sign. A sign that I was… immortal?

No, I wasn’t exactly immortal. Immortals could shrug off something as mundane as death and just go about their day. I on the other hand actually died, woke up in the same room and had to do it all over again. How long would this go on for? Was I the only one?

Not wasting any time, I got up, opened the door and rushed to the main hall. I was even sooner than the previous time and only about a total of twenty people had already found their way into the main hall. I made my way towards the man with the number seventeen and sat down in front of him.

“So, 17,” I began and his head jerked towards me. I flinched slightly at the sudden motion, but composed myself again in a second. “Do you know what’s going on here?”

No answer. Only those lifeless eyes staring into mine. Alright, different approach.

“That knife you’re hiding,” I said. “Where did you find it?”

That surprised him. “How do you know?”

I shrugged. “You’re not exactly being subtle, you know. Where did you get it?”

“What’s it to you?”

I couldn’t help but sigh. “Look, 17. Here’s the deal. In a few moments, you’ll hear the bell chime again and then a message. Once you hear the message, I’ll ask again.”

He didn’t seem to believe me. Why would he? Imagine you’re just relaxing with your favorite knife and then some weirdo comes along and asks you out of nowhere where you got it and starts predicting the future. Yeah, I didn’t blame him.

Once the main hall was filled up though and the bell resounded, the man’s eyes lit up. “How did you…?” he muttered once the message was over. To my relief, he didn’t seem to spring into his usual murderous rage just yet.

“Answer for an answer,” I whispered, leaning closer over the table. “Where did you get the knife?”

The man leaned closer as well. “Underneath my bed. There’s more under there, but the knife was the only thing I could hide properly.”

“More?” I asked. “Like… an axe?”

The man nodded with a grin and motioned to come even closer. “I’ll tell you what’s going on here,” he said before stabbing me in the throat.

Should have seen that one coming.

I woke up.