————————— PART FIVE —————————

I white-knuckled the phone.

“Ed and Mateo will be there.”

She didn’t respond.

“Dad hasn’t answered me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wish that could be what I was worried about, Diego.”

I winced. She had never once respected my hatred for that name.

“It would be such an ignorant relief,” She swooned.

Her voice was still that same awful alloy of disappointment and fear. I’d known my place in her heart my whole life, but it’s such a hollow sadness to know that your mother genuinely fears you. It’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy.

“Please come. Please. I don’t care about anyone else.”

“For what? To hear them disparaging you the same as they have been on Channel 6 for two weeks?! To hear them say it in person, right in front of my face?! To hear them accuse me of raising a-… a monster?! To paint me as some kind of catalyst?! To hear her family damn me to Hell for bringing someone into this world that took their baby out of it? Is that what you want me to go through?! Please, as if I haven’t been through enough.”

I swallowed my backlash hard.

“….. what if it’s the last time you see me?”

It was desperately dramatic, but marginally possible. I pressed the phone to my ear so hard that it burned.

“What. If?” She spat.

He’s so right. Who could possibly stand “till’ death do us part” with you?

“I’M THE ONE WHO’S BEEN THROUGH IT! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN THROUGH?! SHEDDING FAMILY ISN’T PERSEVERANCE-IT’S WEAKNESS, YOU FUCKING HYPOCRITE!”

She stayed silent for a while. I wanted to shake her into clarity. I wanted her to give up the ghost of only acknowledging my existence when it was convenient. I was tired of being an inconvenience. Give me a chance. If you show me you care, I’ll find a way out, and become someone who deserves the smile you show them. I’ll be better, I swear. I swear to G-

“I hope they let you fucking ro-“

I smashed the phone back onto the hook and slammed my fist into the wall.

Fucking have it your way.

 

 

 

 

 

Cody Camargo: Sixteen Days In

After a couple awkward days of the silent treatment, this morning, I was fully untied for the last time. Elijah returns my phone, keys and wallet back to me, then props up his crossbow to lead me out of the room.

I look back.

“You know you’re killing me, right?” I said.

He knit his brow.

“Shut up, dude. You don’t think I know that?”

I wish I hadn’t asked him that. I wish I hadn’t done a lot of things.

A decision had been made by some kind of collective in Return and Exchange. A three day grace period was meant to heal my body as much as possible. I was well taken care of for the remainder of that time. That meant food, water, being allowed to piss outside of my pants, ice packs for my wounded areas, and, my personal favorite, not having the shit beat out of me any further. After three days of that hospitable holding, I was being asked to leave.

Asked isn’t a good word, forced is better.

I was to be permanently outlawed from the community. They wouldn’t harm me, but if I came to the entrance again, the gate would not be opened for me under any circumstances. Cody Camargo had been officially exiled. I truthfully don’t feel that much better, but my body is the least of my concerns. Today is the day. I’m about to reunite with the mysterious open. It will most likely end up to be a very short meeting.

New objective: Get fucked.

I knew that I most likely stood no chance out there. I could’ve felt physically better than I had in years, and it wouldn’t change the fact that I was walking to my death. I was considering my options, and the thought of “suicide by Elijah” was exceedingly comforting in comparison. I almost had the balls.

I opened the door to the holding cell with Elijah behind me. I had seen the area slightly in front of the entrance from people opening the door, but I hadn’t seen the outside world since I first fell unconscious. You know, the outside IKEA anyway.

“Okay, just up this alley a little. You’ll see a bend that you can follow into town.”

Town. I should’ve probably known with the prospect of so many people, but this place must have been pretty impressive. I had seen it while running, and I knew it was shocking from sheer size alone, but I never would’ve truly guessed the reality.

It was…. incredible.

Picture it: Sicily, 2034. There’s no ceiling, and instead of sunlight it’s just an uncanny fluorescent daytime. Despite that, you’re looking at entire three story houses. It’s like a town square got sucked up into a vortex and smacked right in the middle of this thing. Hell, maybe it strolled in on its own and got lost like me. The houses are obviously piecemeal of random materials, but the level of craftsmanship is unbelievably immaculate. People built this? That’s….. well, just add it to my list of suspended disbeliefs. The floor was somewhat choppy, but all composed of the same shopping market marble tiles. I guess they had somewhat uprooted it. It looked like there were lines of torches across the rows and alleys of buildings. I assumed that those were the source of the soft warm light pollution after dark. Whatever electricity may very well be here, it probably disappears along with the lights at 9:00 PM. The centerpiece seemed to act as a town square. There was a giant granite fountain at the heart of it all. Covered in an array of fake plastic foliage. Fake and plastic isn’t what I should use to describe it though, because it was really pretty. It was the first thing in here that didn’t feel off. It didn’t feel otherworldly, or AI generated, or posing as human. It was radiant in such a hopeful way. Ironically, in a place so alien, I guess it looked alien.

About as alien as I must have looked to the town full of people that I found staring at me from porches and windows.

I seriously doubt that anyone who knows the IKEA joke has never seen the opening scene of Skyrim. It was pretty much like that. It was nice to have my wrists unbound, but I was still a publicly known outlaw. A terrorist being led by gunpoint through the streets of men and women who stared me down with disgusted fear. A criminal of war, if you can call that ass kicking a war. Or maybe the stampede to the entrance had been the war? I feel like I’ve been through a war, that’s all I know.

I was truthfully surprised that I didn’t see more people after I had been told of the towns’ population. The lights hadn’t gone on very long ago. I suppose most of them could still be sleeping, if that was possible in such an abrasively luminescent environment. I recognized only a couple of faces as I passed. I had probably seen at least fifty people that night, but most of their faces had surely been bashed from my memory.

I saw the first mate swordsman of the Straw Hat pirates leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. What did I hear her call him? Roman? I’m glad that he wasn’t the person I had a fight with.

I saw Elijah’s “buddy” looking over with a concerned face. She wasn’t even looking at me, she was clearly just keeping an eye on him. A-fucking-dorable.

A face I knew I hadn’t seen belonged to a super skittish boy with eyes that were way too wide. It didn’t look natural for human eyelids to open that wide. He was slightly twitching, so I assumed he had some sort of tick. It’s surely insensitive, but that kid freaked me out. I imagine if those monsters had faces, they might share his eyes. Sorry, “The Staff”.

Two children were around from what I could see. A boy that looked around fifteen, and a girl that was maybe a year or two younger. They both whispered to each other from behind a sign that said “Pantry” as I passed.

A middle aged burly man in a black t-shirt was smiling at me whilst standing in front of a bizarrely shaped building. I noticed a significant birthmark-esque splotch that leaked down the length of his right arm. He was smiling at me softly. It was…. creepy. Not annoying or infuriating, just creepy. I sensed it might have been intended to be comforting. Trust me, it wasn’t.

I was about to stop people-watching when I saw the face of Robert. I had a feeling that of all the people who had gathered for my departure, he was the happiest to see me go. He wasn’t smiling or anything, but I was just exaggerating facts in my head. I suspect he hated every new arrival that wasn’t the return of his daughter, but I had the extra cherry on top of the golden boys’ blood being all over my hands. What if he had seen Patrick as “the son he never had” or some shit like that? I doubt he would flash a smile around me on laughing gas. I wondered if smiling was even possible for him.

Come to think of it though, assuming he was the happiest was foolish. I didn’t see the girl who had been crying that night. I’m not sure what Patrick was to her, but I don’t think it mattered. I was glad I didn’t have to meet her eyes again.

Someone I did see was……. Ugh….. this fucking guy.

“Just keep walking towards that alleyway on the far side. You see the one?”

“Yeah, the one with the asshole sentinel?”

“Just ignore him. You know he’ll say something. Don’t make an already shitty situation worse… please.”

Far to the other side of the town square, Sean was leaning against a wall, staring me down with his arms crossed. He wasn’t frowning or stoic like most of the others. He had a pristine shit-eating grin ripping through his cheeks. Infuriating-box most definitely checked. I tried to look at other things on the awkward walk up, as I was much too aware of his eyes on me the whole way. The douchebag was probably hard as steel.

“Leaving so soon?” He said.

I was a couple steps away from him. I really tried to walk past him silently and not make things harder on Elijah.

“Guess the talk didn’t go too well, huh?”

But on the other hand, fuck this guy.

I turned around, about to put my fist right through his eyes, before I felt the tip of an arrowhead on my skull.

“I said, just ignore him.”

Elijah looked at me with pleading eyes. They certainly didn’t match the stern tone of the guy holding a gun to my head (Gun, crossbow, you know).

I put my fist back down, shaking to try to control myself. I was just about convinced to calmly let it go.

“You heard him, keep walking. You’re gonna be doing a whole lotta that soon, ya better get used to it.”

Fuck it, I hope Elijah shoots me. I’d rather die than be out there anyway. At least I’ll go out punching this fuck.

I swung, and a strong grasp caught my fist, quickly pushing Elijah’s crossbow away from my head with her other hand.

“Walk.” She commanded me.

Sean chuckled a little as the girl threw my fist back to my side for me.

Goddammit.

“Sorry not sorry, but what the hell are you gonna do if I don’t?” I taunted.

I hear a safety release click as a gun swipes from her waist to my head. I don’t mean a crossbow, I mean a fucking gun. All of a sudden, there was a beretta on my temple.

“You think that was the worst I could do back there? I’ll keep you here if you really wanna stay so bad. We can do that shit everyday.” She said.

An embarrassing deep part of me itched from hearing her say that with a gun to my head. I don’t wanna talk about it.

Sean snickered (Who the hell snickers?). I curled both fists and spat towards him on the ground.

“No thanks, I’m sure you’re busy having fun with this stupid bastard anyway,” I said.

“She is-“

“-Sean. Shut your mouth,” She said.

I didn’t want to understand those two. Her and him? Really? Seems like a fittingly bitchy pairing if anything. She looked at him for only a moment as he kicked off from the wall and began walking away, never wiping that stupid grin off of his face. I turned back to her.

“How do you have a gu-“

“-Who the hell said I was answering your questions? Get to the fucking gate.”

“Once again, or what? You’re not allowed to hurt me.”

She looked up towards the non-existent ceiling as if praying for composure. I don’t think she received it. As she glared back down at me, I wondered what it would be like to have her look at me in any other way than down her nose.

“I’ll try to make this clear. I could riddle both of your legs into paste the second you’re outside of that gate, and casually go on about my day. You would not be walking out of here let alone walking if I had my say.”

Geez, I guess my chances weren’t great. Nothing new, but it hurts here a little more.

“Fuck you and your wannabe Alexandria anyway.”

I walked past her without waiting for her to drop the gun.

“You alright?” She asked Elijah behind me.

“Yeah, I’ll take him. Sorry you had to jump in.”

“It’s cool, just don’t let him do anything stupid.”

I doubt anything could be more stupid than walking into this fucking place, maybe I would have rather died. No, that’s obviously a lie. Those screams from Patrick, I’ve been hearing them in my head for awhile now, and I definitely don’t want to find myself in a similar position. It’s crazy how close I probably am to being there.

After walking through the alleyway for a minute, I came out to a familiar scene. The giant handles reminded me of the horrible night of my impossible escape. Around the door on either side, metal scaffolding seemed to be welded into the wall, leading all the way up to the top. As ladders stretched up the sides, they met on a high observatory platform that stretched the length of the wall. I guess that’s where Elijah had been when he heard me screaming Bloody Murder.

Standing by the gate was the tag team duo I had seen fighting the staff that night. It was a black girl and a… Vietnamese boy? Taiwanese maybe? They saw me and shot to attention, looking to Elijah for instruction.

“Do you want us to….. handle the door ourselves so you can keep the bow on him?” The boy spoke up.

“Uhhh, that’s okay. I think N-…. I think she’s got it handled.”

Starts with an N, huh? Good to know, not that I’ll ever have the chance to get the rest of the letters. I looked back to see that she was still watching me from the alleyway with a firm grip on her gun. I was willing to bet that she was a fantastic shot with it. The Andrea to my Alexandria. That would make me Spencer. Well, even Spencer almost had it in at one point. I don’t think I’m getting anywhere with…

Sorry, references aside.

Elijah threw his crossbow around his back, and walked over to the other two. They gripped the handles to the giant door and began to push. Almost like some stupid PTSD, I went into shivers as I heard that enormous sound. I felt it vibrating the ground beneath my feet. My knees were almost buckling. Slowly, they wrenched open the maw of the wall, and my eyes took in the endlessly stretching abyss once again. I hadn’t remembered how scary it was to not see the other side that probably didn’t even exist. It’s like looking towards the open ocean as you’re about to drift into it helplessly, no telling what horrible things reside inside of that repetitive infinity.

I guess I had been standing still with those thoughts for quite a while.

“Hey.”

I turned around to see her right behind me.

“Get out before I throw you out-”

“-You’re already throwing me out, just give me two goddamn seconds…. fuck’s sake…………”

It felt like urging myself to jump off a cli-…woah, deja vu.

I turned back around. There wasn’t a lot I could do. I’m sure the option to drop to my knees and beg wasn’t as absolutely fruitless as it seemed, but…. I just couldn’t. I’m still myself, and everything that comes with that. I had earned that brand of everything, and I would have to let it follow me around with at least some realistic semblance of dignity. Even so deep in the guts of this annoyingly lucid fever dream.

One step at a time.

I looked towards Elijah as I passed. He was looking at the ground sheepishly. Another punch in the gut, all’s well that ends well. Truthfully, I really had become exceptionally good at walking as of late. Just start the motion and let your body take over (for anyone who doesn’t know how walking works). Once I started, the rest was taken care of. Even despite the pain in my rib (and left wrist, and head, and right shoulder, and face), I moved with hastened tunnel vision.

I didn’t even halt or turn as I heard the door slowly closing behind me.

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I walked for about ten minutes before finding the damage the staff caused that night. A trail of dissembled carnage led me back to the bed. The cavalcade I aroused that night had created a hurricanes’ aftermath. A disheveled and strewn about wasteland reminded me of the current state of my bedroom in the real world. It all felt very appropriate, even though, to be honest, I felt like there should’ve been even more destruction than there was. Weird.

I looked around the bed. The pole, the clock, and the notebook were all where I had left them. Thank God, even the water bottles and soda I was carrying with me were sitting beside the bed. I grabbed the pole, feeling the tiniest bit at ease in a place where I definitely should not have felt that way. It felt like reappearing at my last checkpoint with a renewed knowledge of what was to come. Knowledge was not exactly feeling like power, but I was happy to have it.

I sat on the bed with the notebook and pen. I tried my best to remember everything that had happened over the past week or so, and added it to the record.

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So, once again, you’re basically caught up. I may have enhanced a pretty fair deal of my descriptions of Return and Exchange (for the sake of my autobiography), but none of it is truly inaccurate, just a tad bit exaggeratedly colorful. Yes, it really was breathtaking. Yes, it really was full of safe and normally-proportioned people. And yes, holy shit yes, I really did get my fucking ass kicked. That’s probably the most accurate part of the recollection, given that I can still feel the event unfolding on my body.

I took some time mentally kicking myself for accusing Elijah of giving me the concussion that I was clearly gifted by gravity. I then remembered that he had kind of lied to me about the girl, jumped to the conclusion that he probably lied to me about a lot of other things, and was able to forgive myself pretty quickly. That’s an ability I should practice more.

Coming back to this feels nice. I hadn’t realized, but the writing is really fun. Now, maybe that’s just because I’ve spent a week sitting in an empty room where I literally could not even twiddle my fucking thumbs, but it’s more than that. It’s not just time-passing, it’s enjoyable.

Enjoyable isn’t a good word. Relaxing is better.

That being said, that “references aside” bullshit? That’s gonna stop immediately. I’m stranded in an eternal prison that I am obviously running out of ways to describe uniquely, so I’m going to actively make an effort to cram in every single cringey and unnecessary reference that I want.

Thanks for reading! Hope somebody’s reading…

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Sitting down on the bed and writing it all down brought some sort of solace to me, but not nearly enough. I finished writing and looked at the clock.

7:12 PM.

I was hungry. I was given no materials or resources to aid me on my journey, just myself. Just abandoned. I would have to fend and make do with that. I needed to find another café, but I absolutely could not risk venturing out this close to curfew. With the new knowledge of my environment, I knew I needed a place to hide for the night. Under the covers was not going to cut it. I had water still, so that would have to be my dinner. It wasn’t a loaf of bread, but it was more than I could ask for at the moment. Total lie. I could ask for quite a lot.

I walked around for a little while, making sure to keep an eye on the clock and be prepared for when the lights go out. I stayed quiet, checking all of my surroundings as I moved, and kept my ear open for the sound of any less than agreeable passersby.

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I found a pretty big armoire. This thing is even taller than me. Not that I’m trying to say that 5 '9 is tall, I’m just specifying its height, which of course has no emotional effect on me whatsoever so it’s not even worth mentioning.

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Um, anyway.

Looks like I can fit inside of it. I think I’m just going to have to wait it out. I can’t fit the water with me, and the clock seems to end up poking me in the ass no matter where I put it or what position I’m in, so I’m leaving them outside on a table. Based on their visual similarity, I wonder if the employees pick things up like Endermen. I’m holding onto the pole and my phone for sure.

I close the door softly behind me. I wish I was in a bed, this scrunching up is definitely not what my posture needs right now. My rib is fucking burning. I don’t know how to deal with that. I would probably go into a fetal position in my sleep if I had a bed, so I might have destroyed it anyway, but I was awake for this. There’s really no comfortable position to sleep in here, broken bone or not. It doesn’t matter, I would rather be uncomfortable and alive than not uncomfortable because I can’t gauge whether or not I’m comfortable when I’m dead and have no sense of feeling in any way, shape or form. Oh God, what if those things keep you alive? Like, what if they cause you just enough pain to make sure you don’t pass out, and then let you heal so that they can do the exact same thing with your retrieved body the next week?

I assume that’s what the girl would’ve done to me as well.

I guess I’m just going to have to play the quiet game. I don’t know how well a thing with no ears can hear, but I’m willing to bet that it’s a lot better than I think. The squeak of one of those water bottles could have been the death of me.

Pathetic.

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Lights went out. My only source of light that was seeping through the door cracks just disappeared. All right, place your bets.

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Well, I can’t really sleep. I’m way too on edge. I would’ve probably been able to sleep in one of these before if I couldn’t find a bed or anything, but not now. Not after knowing what’s out there looking for me. I just don’t want to let my guard down. I’m gonna be honest here, I don’t know how much I can even do if my guard is up when things go wrong. That makes me feel the tiniest bit more relaxed, simply for the fact that it probably makes no difference at all no matter what I do, and it’s almost completely pointless to even waste my mental-energy stressing about it.

I don’t understand. Nobody seemed to believe that I spent four days out there without seeing those things or being killed in my sleep, and after seeing what “The Staff” looked like, I don’t believe that shit either.

So, why am I alive?

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I don’t have the clock, so I succumbed to checking my phone.

11:42 PM.

Looks like I’ve got 8% battery left. Not bad for over two weeks without any type of charging. I don’t even think it was at 90% when I first walked in. That being said, it was definitely above 50% when I had entered Return and Exchange, and I’ve barely touched it since leaving. Those assholes left me the car on one mile from empty. Oh shit. What if she had been the one to look through my phone? I’m sure that’s what they used it for, why would she ask for my password otherwise? It had to be to investigate me. I mean, it’s possible that they wanted to try and get service to call for help, but you don’t spend that much battery trying to do that. Also, I’m sure they’ve been here long enough that none of them were putting any eggs in that basket.

I don’t care too much. I didn’t have anything incriminating on my phone anymore. Nothing more incriminating than that confession. The most incriminating thing would probably be my recently deleted folder. Jesus Christ. I know every guy is the same, but I really hope she didn’t look in there. It is truthfully a tiny bit excessive.

7%

Was there even a point in preserving it now? Maybe it should go out on a high note. I briefly thought about… using myself. Maybe it would help me sleep. Not that I’m a marathon runner or anything, but I don’t think the battery would last long enough. More importantly, I never know when I’ll need the flashlight. To even have the choice to use it for five minutes more when necessary is too valuable. MOST importantly though, I had been in control of my own liquid consumption for the first time in almost two weeks today, and I had almost drunk enough water to drown my brain cells. My noble little companion was a little more focused on the fact that I really had to pee.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

When did my existence become a shitty Sims horror mod?

I can’t go outside. I can’t.

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Maybe if I just like, take it really slowly. Trickle by trickle out of the smallest crack of the door so even the stream wouldn’t make any sound.

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I couldn’t see a goddamn thing, but I didn’t hear any wet footsteps.

I open the door the tiniest little crack.

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It takes me around seven minutes to feel like it’s all out. It didn’t feel satisfying. My bladder wasn’t in pain anymore, but it didn’t really feel like I had let it out rather than edged myself for an annoyingly long period of time.

Good enough.

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I can’t really hum. I’m not risking it. I’m silently tapping my finger on my side while Magdalene plays in my head. I don’t even feel like I’m getting tired. It’s so suffocating in here. I’m not really claustrophobic, but I hate the feeling of not being able to stretch your limbs when they’ve been stuck in one position for so long. Maybe that is claustrophobia to a degree, but I just feel irritated more than I feel like I’m in any state of trapped panic. On that note, despite how open it is, this whole “building” is pretty suffocating. I wonder if staying in my bedroom for the rest of my life would’ve even been any different. Those same four walls until the day I die didn’t sound that much different from the dizzying infinity that this place proposed.

Certainly not any different from this fucking wardrobe. I don’t think I’m showing up in Narnia any time soon.

Telling is my silence. Blurring my horizons.

I guess I really am somewhat terrified. It’s such a massive silence that it’s beginning to be loud. It’s slowly revealing this harsh ringing feedback in my eardrums. That sound is so threatening. So, ding ding ding, infinite. I know I had noticed it in the early days, but I think I forced myself to be so caught up in distracting furniture that I didn’t think about it. I’m still caught up in thought like a fucking bear-trap, but for the most part, every thought is in some way pertaining to that deafening silence. It’s the same as it was before, but it feels so much worse now. Only because…. I know that I’m not really waiting to fall asleep.

I’m waiting for the silence to be broken.

With such an absolutely barren void of sound, it takes such a thin and faint little pluck to shatter it into a million pieces. Even if it’s so far in the distance that it feels like it’s a world away.

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But it’s not a world away. Not anymore.

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My heartbeat matches a double-time pace of the constant footsteps in the distance.

From how far away it is, it’s like small little raindrops tapping on a window ever so slightly, but every time it steps, the raindrop gets a little bigger. Every time it steps, the wind curves sideways the tiniest bit more, and the raindrop splatters against my window the tiniest bit harder. Slowly, the rain becomes heavier and heavier, until I can feel its reverberations through the floor right outside of the armoire. It keeps walking as I curl my body in my arms, fighting harder than ever not to let a single follicle of skin shift even slightly. For about two minutes, the footsteps repeat at a constant volume, but sound as if they’re not moving in any direction, just stomping in place right in front of my hiding place.

What the hell, dude? Am I not entitled to a good night’s sleep?

This is rough. I’m struggling to keep my mouth shut and breathe through my nose. I don’t scream when getting scared, but I just feel like I need to right now. I have this pure-liquid emotion of antsy fear rolling up and down in waves through my throat. If I were to open my mouth, I don’t think I would be able to control it.

Finally, the raindrops slowly got quieter again, as I felt my white knuckles slowly destress around my knees. The footsteps slowly began to distance themselves. I guess that hiding was possible. Good to know they didn’t have some kind of X-Ray vision……… right?

I patiently waited.

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Smaller raindrops. Smaller raindrops.

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The footsteps sounded a pretty far way away again now, almost to where I was only hearing every other one. I trusted myself with opening my mouth.

That was a mistake.

I let out a small shaky sigh.

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It was like a machine rudder with a giant piece of flesh caught in its gears. The pounding machine gun ran back towards the armoire, covering what had to be about a half a mile of ground in three solid seconds. I felt a tear roll out of my eye. The footsteps stopped right outside. It had to know I was here. Was this it? Was it going to smash its head through like Jack Nicholson? Crush me with another heavier piece of furniture? Sit here waiting forever until I opened the door so it could grab me? I mean, it didn’t even see me in the first place. Did it really know I was here, or am I just rightfully paranoid? What was it going to do?

Better question, what the fuck was I going to do? Oh God, what if it never moved? I knew it was still there, but I didn’t hear any movement whatsoever. It must’ve been staring right at me. My heart was practically making me choke as it skipped seven beats for every eighth one. I heard a forceful footstep land directly in front of the door that seemed to shock it back into tempo. I started silently praying. I think I had worn out its effect by now, but it was better than waiting with my dick in my hand.

Apparently it still worked a little.

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I don’t think I could describe the sound properly if you gave me a thousand years. It was all over the spectrum. Low, high and middle. It sounded maybe miles away, tens of miles even, and yet I felt the hum of it inside my chest. I heard the rapid footsteps of the staff member rocket away from my small sanctuary until they disappeared. I kept breathing shallowly through my nose, despite the fact that my brain was demanding more and more oxygen, and I felt myself falling into a swoon.

I guess I should’ve thought of doing that earlier.

Nighty night!

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Waking up was weird. The realization of surviving the night before didn’t hit me for about five minutes of snoozing with no memory of falling asleep from asphyxiation. I knew I was still in an IKEA, but I had momentarily forgotten about my close encounter. The small stream of light bled back through enough for me to make out my own scrunched up body. My lone form of protection was still clutched between my legs (the pole, obviously).

I was hesitant about opening up the door, but everything seemed silent again. I’m sure those things didn’t breath, so I guess my hesitation stemmed from the fear that there was one of those fuckers standing directly outside and I would have never known. But once again, I needed to eat. The reasoning resurfaced that I was going to have to step out at some point anyway if I didn’t want this to be my final resting place, so why waste my own time?

“I’m coming out, you cocksucker.” Just for good measure.

A gray fist didn’t come through the door, so I worked up the courage to finally step outside.

Ploosh.

“AHHHHH!”

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The sound of a wet footstep had scared the positively living shit out of me. I guess I do scream when I’m scared.

It took me a couple seconds to realize that it was my own footstep, and I had just placed my shoe directly into my piss from the night before. My face turned red with disgusted embarrassment. I was extremely happy to wake up alive, but still fairly annoyed that the smell of ammonia was now all over my right foot.

What a great start to the morning.

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Cody Camargo: Seventeen days in.

I picked up my water and clock, and set off to find some breakfast.

9:54 AM. That’s right, bitches! Breakfast! Early morning breakfast! BAM!

I would be so happy with myself right now if every other footstep wasn’t sticking to the ground.

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My side hurts a lot. It’s getting gradually harder to walk. I know a broken rib is serious, so I should’ve also known that it wasn’t going to heal fast, if it even healed at all.

Looks like a new companion has joined us on the journey.

Everyone meet my friend:

Side-splitting anguish!

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Feel like I vaguely remember having a wet dream of an emergency exit door last night.

Sexy. I should suffocate myself to sleep more often.

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Weird string of thought. Shouldn’t my piss have dried? I know that seems pointless to ask, but instead of it being wet, it should’ve just been a sticky yellow splotch at that point, right? Am I wrong? It’s almost like there’s no evaporative property going on. I’m not a scientist, not that it takes a scientist to understand evaporation, but doesn’t that seem weird? I’m only thinking about it because I’ve realized that I can’t feel any descriptive temperature here. More intelligent folks would probably use the term “room temperature” for that, but I have personally never experienced a room-temperature room in my life. It seems like I’m either too hot or too cold in almost every enclosed space. I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this. I have not thought about the air temperature for even a second since I got here. I guess there’s no weather.

Well, maybe there’s no shifting climate, but shouldn’t there at least be, I don’t know, clouds here? Do I have to remind you what I see when I look up? I might as well be outside. I could go down a paradoxical rabbit hole about whether or not I think an infinite expanse with no weather should even be providing me oxygen, but I think it would crack my little acorn.

Just a thought. Grain of salt.

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I looked in a mirror just now. Not like the last time I looked in one, but maybe that’s because the sight of my face snapped me to attention immediately. It wasn’t pretty, and that is to say that it’s never pretty, but this was pretty bad.

I looked like I had just had my wisdom teeth removed, but they had decided to drug up my forehead and nose as well as my gums. My entire face looked like it had been airbrushed with a hazy purple, with one entirely blood red left eye. What a fantastic artist she was. I felt mangled. Elephant man in the face head-ass. I realized I had found the kid with the wide eyes creepy, but I was not currently a sight for sore eyes myself. Maybe he had actually been making that face because he was horrified just from the sight of me. It’s always great to know that you’re somebody else’s nightmare fuel. Fun times.

I inspected the bandage on my left wrist. I was scared to see what it looked like underneath. I gritted my sensitive teeth as the adhesive pulled at my bloody arm hairs. Elijah had changed my bandage, and painfully disinfected the wound a couple of days after my second “interview”. Back then, it had looked so raw and exposed. Now, the inner wound had healed a fair deal, but the circle of “skin” still looked like a transparent mess of pulp. Her teeth marks were still branded around the border. I would have to find another material to bandage myself with, as just the slightest swipe of my arm felt like someone was spraying an air pump onto my nerve endings.

I lifted my shirt to examine my stomach. A repulsive purple splotch was placed directly above the problem area. The same color as her eyes. It was a lot less beautiful of a color when it was spreading over my rib cage. It was unsustainable to keep ignoring it, and I knew I needed to treat myself. I wasn’t a doctor, but I wasn’t about to wait for it to get worse.

“Maybe I’m not your type, but that’s just unnecessary.” I mumbled to myself.

The situation was a little bit more complicated than that, but the vibe was very much “fuck that bitch” at the moment.

I smashed the mirror with my foot. I didn’t want any glass shards or anything, I just didn’t feel very happy with it.

FRÄCK

Another piece of furniture successfully destroyed. I should start keeping a tally!

Just kidding. The tally I’m already keeping of each consecutive worst day of my life is enough for me.

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I grabbed the thickest cloth napkin I could find in an incredibly cozy dining room and gingerly wrapped it around my problem area. I untied two blue ribbons that were situated on the corners of the family memo board, and tied them tight around either end of the napkin on my wrist and forearm. I looked back to the board.

1. Flour
2. Eggs
3. Milk

Do you live on pancakes and pasta dough, or did you somehow forget to buy the only three essential things you look for in a grocery store? Maybe it was actually the name of their three children, ranked in order of the parent’s preference for each. They would still be better at naming humans than Elon Musk.

I grabbed an eraser, cleared the board, took a piece of chalk, and began writing.

I finished and stepped back.

1. Butter: Gone, but never forgotten.
2. Flour
3. Eggs
4. Milk: Missing? Who cares…

“That’s better….”

I stared at it for a while before sighing and walking away.

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I don’t regret punching that girl.

I’m glad that all of those people are trapped in this living hell.

I’m not sad that Robert lost his fake daughter.

I’m not sad that Patrick died.

I’m certainly not sad that Elijah’s sad because of it.

Fucking interview. What kind of stupid fucking game is that? What kind of self important douchebags would tie someone to a chair, take their phone and take their-………

I reached into my pocket and took out my wallet. I slightly slid out my driver's license and stared at it. Stared at the name that didn’t say “Cody”. The name that she had definitely seen already by the time that I had told her that it was “Cody”.

“GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!”

I turned around and threw my entire wallet as far away into the infinite distance as I could. It probably wasn’t very far, but it’s the thought that counts.

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I had the inspiration to climb up on a relatively tall bookshelf. I’m practically disabled, and there wasn’t any ladder, so I felt like I was playing an incredibly clunky QTE check. It was sturdy, but not enough to put me at ease. My legs quivered as I slowly and shakily brought myself up to a straight posture on the top. Such a dumb risk that would not be worth the negative or positive reward. No helpful employees in sight. I wonder where they go in the daytime. How do so damn many show up when the lights go out? Do I need to start placing torches down in here or something? How had I gone four days out in the open without encountering one? Elijah said I would’ve been killed in my sleep. I believed him, even though I had no desire nor evidence to. Was I just that lucky? Not exactly an attribute I’m known for.

In the far distance I spotted a café. It would be a long walk, but I was glad to know that I had a method for finding them now.

Looks like breakfast.

Alright, back to walking!

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I don’t l know how to describe what’s going on in my head. I think I’ve hit a dead end. Not physically (I wish), just in regards to the rest of my life. Do I even have a rest of my life? Rest of my week maybe. I’m not very skilled at adapting under pressure. There’s no practical way that I can keep on successfully hiding myself every night. I know that people find a way, and adjust to anything if it means survival, but my determination is basically neutered.

Even if I knew I could constantly survive like that, like this, how long will it be before I go insane? More accurately, before I get fucking bored? This isn’t living, this isn’t even surviving. This is nauseatingly awkward tedium.

From that angle, it should be pretty depressing, right? I just don’t feel like I’m depressed. Not anymore. I’m not really sure why.

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11:47 AM.

Lucy, I’m home! Where’s my food?

I looked around for the baked ziti. It’s basically lunch now, and despite my hunger, I didn’t feel like soggy eggs. Feels strange to have the ability to turn my nose up at food right now. It’s nice to be able to just casually scrounge up some fiddles. (what?)

I found the ziti, or what looked the most similar to it. I filled up two plates and sat down for about two seconds before deciding to get up. Fuck this goddamn fucking uncomfortable ass fucking chair. I went and found a much more comfortable loveseat and pulled it all the way back to the table. The painful labored lugging was well worth the near-orgasmic feeling of laying back fully into the cushions.

My mouth felt a little healed, but it still wasn’t very comfortable to eat. My jaw felt loose, as if any bite too hard would unlatch it on one side. I ate extremely slowly. I delicately mushed up my meal and thought about my next move. My thoughts wandered to the next couple days rather than the next couple hours. Maybe I could build my own walls, my own outpost shelter. Uhhhh, fat chance. I couldn’t build you an empty room with fucking Lincoln Logs.

I looked at my meal and suddenly felt extremely empty.

Not sad, just…… longing.

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I think I know why I’m not depressed. Return and Exchange has given me at least some form of hope. A beacon of light in a storm of gruesome banality - well, I guess the idea is somewhat original when put into actual practice.

I was putting together hopeless thoughts, and coming to pessimistic conclusions about what was in store for me. The truth is, behind those thoughts, I didn’t feel hopeless or pessimistic at all. I actually think I feel the best I ever have in here. Is that weird? Seeing that place full of a thriving diverse people, it just makes me think that even something as ridiculously hopeless as this could be okay.

Somebody as ridiculously hopeless as me could….. You know, to be determined, but the possibility is there, no doubt about it.

Of course it won’t be easy, but who said it would be? I know I’m in a really bad spot, but I feel pretty good. Please believe it though, I’m still terrified of the future. The thing that’s given me hope has also rejected me, so I guess that’s where the longing is coming from. I’ve been left completely to my own devices. The last time that happened, I ended up waltzing myself into an infinite IKEA. The time before that… well…

Let’s just say my recent track record wasn’t great for making my own decisions. That being said, I made one for the time being.

I would stay away like I was told, and I certainly wouldn’t come crawling back begging for forgiveness. However, I felt more than a little frightened by the idea of venturing too far away from the vicinity of R&E. As long as I could still see it when I climbed up onto a bookshelf, that felt comfortable to me. Just a little mental safety raft to cling onto. In the meantime, I guess I do just have to figure out what living means in a place like this, because that is what I am prepared to do.

Live.

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Yeah, super heartwarming stuff.

Really quick, didn’t want to distract from the point earlier, but I wrote “what’s in store for me”, and I wanted to point it out for anyone who didn’t think I was saying it intentionally, because I need everyone to get every single joke I make with a zero percent exclusion rule. I’m actually just gonna start giving a little signal when I’ve just said something in a way that I think is calculatedly comedic. I’ll just say something like, I don’t know, it should only be one word…….

How about I literally say haha, like actually just write the four letter word “haha”. That seems super dumb, but I think it’s better than saying some Dean Scream-esque zinger that is GUARANTEED to sap the life out of anything that it follows. Given the amount I’ve hemorrhaged recently, it’s come to my attention that I don’t bleed comedy. I know the greater amount of situations I would be using this for are probably not very funny, but I think it’s nice to recognize that my one remaining form of clutching to sanity is giving me a pretty good laugh. Although, maybe that’s due to the fact that I can root out and name my one remaining form of clutching to… sanity…….. I guess that’s not very funny…….

Anyway, get it? What’s in store for me? Because infinite store is infinite?

Haha.

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1:53 PM

Alright, back to living.

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After using a self-poured puddle of water to clean off my shoe, I got the smallest pillowcase I could find and walked back to the café. I stuffed it with ice cubes, and gave it some pressure against my rib as I winced. It started leaking within about ten minutes, but it was working for the pain a bit. So melting works here? Maybe I truly just don’t understand evaporation. I failed meteorology despite how attractive my teacher was. More likely given how attractive my teacher was.

After filling the beverage pillowcase back to the brim, I ventured out. Also, call it gross, but I filled two empty water bottles with as many peas as I could crush up into slop. I thought it was pretty clever if I don’t have the opportunity to get to a café. I admit it might feel less clever when I’m sucking crushed pea sludge out of a plastic water bottle.

Now that I’m holding the ice pack, I’ve got the pole through two belt loops in my pants like a sword in its sheath (I would later find out that it was an extremely bad idea to have it hooked to the same side as my broken rib, but at the time, I felt way too cool to even consider it).

I don’t want to go back to the same specific armoire from before. I have a lot more time now than I did last night. I want to try and find something a bit more spacious. I’m not sure how much more spacious I can get, considering that most of the pieces of furniture here are probably not made to fit an entire human body, but you never know with the Swedes. Welp, I’ve got nothing but time.

Let’s go shopping!

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Hey…….. so…

I thought I should probably make a quick formal apology for not telling you anything about….. what happened before. I didn’t feel it was contextually necessary at the time.. even though I repeatedly eluded to it like an asshole. I didn’t want to focus in on it. I genuinely never thought that I would end up in a situation where that information was going to be dragged out of me here. Even if I had, starting an introduction with that….. I don’t know if anyone would still be here. I’m really praying to God that anybody at any point in time is here.

Please.

I’m only saying it now because I want to tell you what happened at some point, I’m just not ready. There’s more to it than it seems, I just don’t think it’s important enough right now to justify me reaching into that snake pit. I should’ve told you, warned you, I don’t know, something. If you feel disgusted with me in any way, I don’t hold it against you.

Hope you’re still here with me.

You’re kind of all I’ve got.

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All right? Okay.

That being said, I should take the tiniest bit more care of the reader to show you that I’m not just bullshitting there.

Let’s make a deal. Anytime I’m about to write something that would warrant me saying “references aside” after any more than one sentence (anything that a singular person may not get if they aren’t sharing the exact 1:1 list of things I would typically allude to when the opportunity arises), I’ll put some bookends around the statement. That way, you won’t have to ponder whether or not I’m just rambling in my echo-chamber-circle-jerk kind of way, and you’ll just know for sure that I am most definitelydoing that. No need to waste your time and energy questioning it!

I feel like that’s pretty helpful here…

Although, I could start throwing it around randomly on surface level statements just to mess with you.

Just kidding, let’s give an example.

Key:

(RA)=References aside=Some serious bullshit spewing ahead=Feel free to gloss over this

Ahem (Should I stop doing that? Shut up, you only get one thing at a time).

The photos in an infinite IKEA are easily divided into two categories. Everything is either fake people, or what a computer thinks a skyline shot of New York City should look like.

(RA) The only exception to that are these wannabe artsy expressionism paintings that look like knock-off Sigur Rós artwork. (RA)

Alright, get it? Pretty easy right?

See, I placed the (RA) indicator right where I started and stopped equating the paintings I’m seeing to something you would probably see on an album cover from the Icelandic post-rock band Sigur Rós. They aren’t exactly underground or anything, but I recognize the definite reality that the vast majority of people reading this may very well have no fucking clue who that is, let alone what would qualify a painting as being similar to their visual aesthetic.

And in case you’re wondering, yeah, my penis is shriveling up into my pelvis with discomfort. I did it for you, so sorry if it sounded condescending. Sorry, that sounds condescending too.

Whatever, just know that I’m unhappy for your sake.

Thanks. Let’s move on.

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I picked up a book from a bookshelf. So weird. It was just like Elijah said. Yeah, it was crafted and formatted to look like a book, and there were obviously words, but they meant nothing. It wasn’t like the book was written in hieroglyphics or anything, but it was like someone had just used a random word generator and put one word after the other 120,000 times.

Shit, if I can do it, anyone can. Jury’s out on whether I’m properly doing it or not.

I’ll give you a little sampler. Here’s an excerpt from the genius workings of Jake Jonathan’s “My olive glass death?” (Not sure why it’s a question, but I’d read it).

“Something like fresh looking paint on inert eyes, includes whether color can contact time, THE TWELVE MAY BOTH SLEEP!? The sponge will cut weight fake if you try the car splatter. Ticking ticking and tucking. Blood in the head despite our families spitting warm hot heat. HERE! WAKE!” (Jonathan 49).

Strangely poetic. Strange if anything. I hope it’s actually a fake book and I’m not insulting a real world author. I’m sure somebody out there would call it brilliant, so Jake Jonathan can disregard any criticisms I have.

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Nicole? No, she doesn’t look like one. Nancy? Kind of an ugly name. Hate to say it to any Nancy that might be reading. Noelle? Naomi? Both sound nice, but I’m pretty sure she’s hispanic. I don’t know how to narrow down what determines a hispanic name. Natasha? Nina? Maybe I didn’t hear Elijah say a vowel before it? Anita? Annette? Anastasia? That’s a terrible name, so gaudy. Annabelle? Annabelle is kind of pretty.

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I saw a picture frame that had the phonetic alphabet on it. I jotted it all down on a page in the notebook and tore it off to stick in my pocket. I don’t know when I’d ever need to use this, but it couldn’t hurt to have it, right? Here’s to hoping that it’s accurate and not randomly generated. I have no way of knowing.

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Come to think of it…

I wonder if any of these pictures are actually of real people. More so, I wonder if any of them were real, but aren’t anymore. Maybe every time someone dies in here, their face gets added to some roulette shuffle wheel that plasters one of them on a random body in these super corny candid shots.

I guess that’ll be me at some point.

Drinking wine in my bedroom.

Sitting by the brick campfire.

Driving my Jeep on the beach.

Playing monopoly by the sunset.

Wearing flower crowns with my daughter.

Camping on a mountain with my wife.

My arm around her waist, my cheek against hers.

Smiling like I couldn’t stop if I tried.

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That would be a nice place to end up when I die.

Sounds like a very forgiving Hell.

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Oh shit, I got a little bit lost in thought just now. I’ve been walking for a while, not really focusing on looking for a place for the night. I wasn’t even paying attention to my direction and started seeing Return and Exchange again. I turned to the right to not have it in my eye-line. I wonder what people did before that place was built. In order to build it, they must have already had a shit ton of motivated people. Surely they all weren’t hiding together in an armoire every night. Maybe they defended in shifts? Like hell I would be able to sleep like that, even if I had the trust that I know I’d never have for another human being.

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Still though…… I think I would trust her.

I’m not exactly a formidable opponent, but she more than proved that she’s capable of defending herself. I could trust her to defend me. That would be kind of nice.

Somebody is kicking my ass and she jumps in out of nowhere. She has a weapon, but she doesn’t even use it. She just takes out her bare fists and steps between us.

“You need something, dickhead? I’ve got it covered when it comes to kicking this kid’s ass, so I definitely don’t need anybody else to do it for me.”

She looks back at me, as her hostile exterior softens just the tiniest bit, a way she would only show to someone that she really cares about.

“Hey, you okay?”

I smile back with my nose and mouth bleeding.

“Yeah….. now that you’re here……….. this guy doesn’t have shit on yo-“

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Bump.

“Oh shit, my bad, man. Sorry about-“

Holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit.

Holy fucking shit.

I walked right into its back. I stared up at the back of its bald head as it shot around to look at me.

With no eyes.

“AGHHH!” (Like a girl).

Alright, back to running.

I don’t even remember what direction I ran relative to where the thing was. Away? I just bolted it out of there. My side felt like it was gonna explode, but I wouldn’t stop running if you fucking paid me to.

New rule: No more daydreaming.

How had I not seen it? Was I that lost in thought? Goddammit Goddammit Goddammit. I deserved to be killed, how could I be so stupid? I can barely even run with this rib, not like before. That thing will catch me like it’s no probl-….

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Actually, I can’t really hear it chasing me.

I took the risk of turning around while still running. It didn’t look like it was there. I mean it obviously wasn’t right behind me, but I didn’t even see it in the distance. Did it not want me? Did I run fast enough to lose it?

I seriously doubt tha-

Whoops. Guess I missed a stair.

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Wait, what?

Stair?

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There were a couple things that made the fall pretty bad. The pole smashed into my bad side a couple times before ripping the belt loops out by the seams. The water bottle pillow slammed into my head and exploded around me. My head stretched so close to the wrong way about three times. Everything of mine stretched so close to the wrong way, repeatedly, for about forty-five seconds straight as I tumbled downstairs.

Downstairs.

I was so close to coming to grips with this place. So fucking close. Instead, I came to grips with the basement floor. The chaos finally ended at the bottom, as I coughed on the rest of the wind that somehow hadn’t been quite knocked out of me.

“What the hell…. just happened…”

Something around my stomach area was bleeding. Probably my stomach. I assumed the metal spiral of the notebook had nicked me where I had been keeping it under the front of my pants. I felt pretty shitty. In a matter of forty-five seconds, the greater part of the healing I did over the past week was basically undone.

I wonder if I can sue this company. I still have my DIY wrist bandage, so I’ll hold my lawyers off for now.

I lifted my head a little. I could sort of see the ground in front of me, and some furniture surrounding, but it was very clear that something was different. I could barely make out anything in a sudden encompassing darkness. I struggled to stand.

Struggled isn’t a good word, failed is better.

I lifelessly draped myself over the arm of a couch next to me as I looked around.

“… oh you have got to be fucking kidding me….”

The source of my fall was the biggest escalator I had ever seen in my life. I don’t have a “Top Ten Biggest Escalators” list or anything, but I was pretty sure it was.

It came down from the ceiling with a…..

Ceiling?

Good lord, where do I even start here?

Okay. Dark room. Pretty sure it’s much too big to be called a room, but I can’t tell how big it is since the only light is coming from the small opening in the ceiling. There’s a ceiling. It’s still pretty high, but not anywhere close to the stratosphere. Out of the hole in that ceiling, an incredibly steep escalator is descending towards the ground. It looks like there’s another one right next to it that goes upwards. I just tumbled down it violently. I’m bleeding. Everything hurts again. My phone is still in my pocket, but my clock, pole, and icepack are gone. Water bottles are like snowflakes everywhere around me. Did I mention that it’s really fucking dark? I think that’s about it.

But it’s daytime? Or you know, hours of operation time? I know that the lights are still on up there, because it’s one of the only things that I can see in this place.

This place…

Okay, I get it already. I’m just about over the “charm” of this dollar-store Dante’s Inferno. There’s levels to this shit? Is this level infinite too? Is the amount of levels infinite? (RA) Did I end up in a chapter of “BLAME!” somehow? (RA)(I know it’s a bad time, but there you go.)

Every thought was a mess in my head, but one peered through the rest. In case I hadn’t already mentioned, it was dark. Bad shit happens here when it gets dark. I was definitely not in good shape. The last time I felt like this, I was on the floor of the holding cell, but this was not the same. Being on the floor here was like sleeping out in the open, and that was NOT an educated guess. I was trying to ignore it, but I could hear the familiar sound everywhere. I was in a nest. A very angry nest. I think I’ve discovered where they all go in the daytime.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. The screen was cracked badly. Pressing the power button showed that the LEDs were crushed and colorfully glitching over each other. I was still able to flick on the flashlight. It probably had the good five minutes that my self restraint had earned me before. I shined it around. I just found more eerie dark isles as far as the eye could see. The only difference from the layout upstairs was that I noticed a lot of the furniture to be in outstandingly bad shape. Everything looked like it was on its way to the incinerator. It was like the surrounding wasteland of a nuclear fallout, but with everything still in proper order of a room display. It was as if everything had been obliterated without ever being touched.

That was weird, too fucking weird. Weird in a way that set off a switch in my brain I wasn’t happy to discover I had. I’ve gotta get out of here.

Okay then, focus. This isn’t too bad. You have a way out of here. Don’t worry about the unknown, don’t get lost in thought, just get yourself out of the situation and worry about it keeping you up at night later. That opposite escalator is going up. Just crawl over there and let it do the rest of the work. Don’t let the end be this stupid.

I let go of the comfortable support of the couch and slowly forced myself to stand.

Look, you did it. Now just walk.

The wooden crashing directly to the right of me let me know that it was far too late for that. What a shame.

I let myself fall back limp to the ground, as the giant body of the staff member tumbled over the couch and me in extension, barreling across the floor. It went a fair distance, but was still basically right next to me. I was still in overwhelming pain. It, on the other hand, seemed to be in perfect health as it wasted no time returning to its feet and focusing towards my pathetic body on the floor.

Come on. Do something.

As it barreled towards me, I couldn’t find any sudden urge of strength bestowed upon my limbs. My body had more or less given up, and I couldn’t blame it. At some point, enough surely had to be enough. I was exhausted of energy and options. Even the idea of praying sounded redundant as its massive figure loomed over me.

Is this really it? Everything went so wrong so fast.

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“RUFF!”

Delirious? Yeah, I was, but I know what a dog sounds like. A big dog.

The staff member turned around quickly towards the source of the interruption. I struggled to find the ability to move. I looked through its legs to see that a Tamaskan wolfdog was standing angrily behind him, growling low and menacingly.

Um, dogs? Sure, why not?

“RUFF RUFF!”

The staff member bolted around towards it, as the dog immediately shot to the left, way faster than its already incredibly fast pursuer. They were gone from my sight quicker than I could process. Sadly, my line of vision was almost immediately refilled by two more Staff from the halls opposite, revealing themselves into the hollow spotlight of the opening. They both were fixed towards the commotion just the same as they bolted towards the dog.

“RUFF RUFF!”

Did I have a guardian Angel? Amen.

I finally brought myself up onto my elbows, just enough to be able to properly look around again. It was a feverish sight. The Tamaskan was herding the staff like they were cats after a laser. Slowly, more and more spilled out of the aisle pores. There had to be at least twenty of those things chasing after that dog. One of them slipped on a water bottle and scrambled around on the floor like a spider on its back. I realized I was staring in a daze when a staff member pounded directly past me with no regard for the much easier target that I definitely was. I shook myself back to attention and struggled to not make a scene as I went back to using the couch for support. As I forced myself upwards, the flashlight illuminated behind the couch.

There you are.

The pole was lying on the ground just around the back, slightly stained with a blood that I assumed was mine. I touched my stomach with my left hand. I felt the notebook, as my fingers met a sticky liquid that seemed to be coating it. I pulled it out of my waist. I was lucky that I kept the used pages away from me, as my blood had soaked through about ten empty ones on the opposite side, now all smeared into one as they clung to each other with my fluid. I placed the notebook back in my waist and began skirting around the edge of the couch. My canine savior continued barking up a storm as I struggled to slowly bring myself to a crouch.

I grabbed the cold edge of the pole in my hand, and was just about to rise.

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I heard giant footsteps right behind, and could feel the presence towering above me. I slowly turned my head and flashlight around to see the hellish figure shadowing my body. I would be shaking if I had the energy. It was looking directly at me, but its head was twitching violently.

“RUFF RUFF RUFF!”

It was just standing there, shaking. Its arms were ferociously active. It looked like it had Parkinson’s. It must have seen me move my head, it knew I was alive. I don’t know if that’s something they even cared about, but it knew.

“RUFF RUFF RUFF!”

I realized the true terror of the creature I was staring at. I had obviously seen them before, but just staring at it now was grisly. I couldn’t imagine ever dreaming of something as realistically horrible as this. Maybe H.P. Lovecraft could think up some more twisted incomprehensible shit, but this was comprehensible, and I comprehended that it was something fucking awful.

“RUFF RUFF!”

I think the dog had it stunned.

Stunned isn’t a good word, conflicted is better.

I think it was having trouble deciding whether it wanted to rip me apart, or to run towards the obnoxiously loud mutt that was taunting it wildly. I surely had to be the better option. Definitely the easier one. What the hell was stopping it?

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My flashlight went out. That wasn’t even three minutes, but I guess I’m out of juice. Thereafter, the staff member quickly made their decision.

“SIR!”

I get it, it’s the light. Maybe they don’t work on a schedule. Maybe they tell when the store is closed by whether or not the lights are on. Does any small source of light or absence thereof just confuse them? That one up there had taken its time to turn around, and still didn’t even chase me. They must only be violent in the dark. The dog might have been an okay distraction before, but this guy was most definitely in the dark. A lightsaber would be nice right now.

Well, I settled for what I had. I figured I should probably do something besides sit still if I was going to die. Maybe I’ll take some dignity with me to the afterlife. Pretty sure that’s one of the only things I can’t take with me. So……

Um… I don’t know…. Thanks for letting me make it this far I guess…. I feel like I learned a lesson.

I think I can take that with me.

I dropped my phone and grabbed the pole with both hands, channeling every possible bit of strength I had left in my body into the swing. Every breath I could’ve breathed. Every time my heart could’ve beat. Every word I could’ve said. Every better thing I could’ve done. Every second I could have lived as such a more fulfilling version of my disappointing self, all went into that swing.

The pole was just long enough to make full contact with its non-existent face. There’s my whole life in landing a hit.

I wonder if it would make her proud.

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Well, the asshole didn’t even flinch, so I seriously doubt it. Haha.

I’m the worst.

Its arms stretched towards me as the horror of its image spun my equilibrium to ribbons. It was such a horrible picture to die to. I wanted something else. Anything else besides the portrait of this paper-thin demon reaching out to swallow me. The voice in my head had already been imbibed by its gruesome majesty, as an unintelligible wailing was all that filled my cerebral. I couldn’t even make contact with my own internal dialogue. In that small moment, it was like I was already long gone.

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However, my luck, stubborn son of a bitch that it was lately, wasn’t so eager to give up the ghost.

Thank God I sacrificed all of my charisma and intelligence for it.

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A wooden table post clonked across the back of the staff member as it turned around angrily.

“Eat lead, you stick bug fuck.”

An aluminum baseball bat came down into its head. Like, really down into it. Like, made a valley all the way down to the neck. Not sure that’s the way that catch phrase usually goes, but eat it he most certainly did. Would it be “eat aluminum”? Surely that wouldn’t have sounded as cool.

Sorry, off topic.

The body toppled back and into me as I stumbled backwards against the couch. The weight of the corpse fell limp over my head and chest. It was so fucking heavy. Yeah, the body was tall, but way too thin to have been that heavy. It was a familiar heavy. I wriggled in disgusted discomfort. Its skin felt rough. Not quite sandpaper, more like leather. It was so cold. Too cold to have ever been warm. I wanted to get it off of me more than I’ve wanted most things in life, but my nerves were much too weak.

I felt the weight lift off of me, as my hero pulled it away and threw it to the side.

“What the hell is wrong with you man?! You want me to let you two cuddle in peace?” He whispered.

The mans’ clothes were in bad shape, ripped up and covered in bizarre stains. His facial hair looked perfect for a Tom Hanks Castaway cosplay, totally unlike the members of Return and Exchange. The outcropping’s lowlight was just barely illuminating his facial features. His eyes looked tired, but also wild. Like he hadn’t slept in weeks, hopped up on something a human body should never ingest.

I had learned my lesson up there about appreciating a favor.

“I… holy shit….. thank you-“

“-Shhhhh.”

“….sorry.”

“I know you are, go on and get up.”

“Could you… give me a hand with that?”

He rolled his bloodshot eyes and scowled, reaching down to me. I grabbed his hand, and forced my legs to work as he brought me to my feet.

“You think we can get up the escalator while the dog has them distracted?” I asked.

He looked at me like I had just shit in a desk drawer at IKEA.

“That deathtrap?! Hell no, they guard it like it’s the President. I’ve seen how quickly those things scramble up it. You wouldn’t make it even halfway.”

“W-.. what? So….. am I stuck down here?”

If I didn’t already feel dumb enough this week, his looks were certainly doing it for me.

“What are you, joking? I don’t think I need to answer that question for you. You certainly don’t look healthy enough for it to be your first day.”

I mean, I did just fall down what looks like a 1,000 foot high escalator, but whatever.

“Shit, well, what do we do?”

“Can you walk?”

Fuck you.

“Um, kind of. I can limp.”

“Good enough, follow me. Quietly.”

He began walking cautiously into the guts of the aisles, slowly disappearing from the already insignificant light of the opening.

“Shit, hang on.”

I didn’t know how easily raising my voice would draw their attention to me, but I’m sure he didn’t hear that, and I wasn’t about to repeat myself. I turned around and bent down, completely aware that I might not be able to get back up again. I grabbed my phone and put it back in my pocket. You never know. I grabbed the pole off the ground in my left hand and used it to push myself back to my feet and help me through the darkness. The complete, and I mean so complete, and utter darkness. I hadn’t had to deal with this darkness face to face for a while. I wasn’t very happy to not see it again. Haha that shit is not funny

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I could still hear the dog going ballistic in the ever increasing distance. I was using the pole as more of a white cane within about thirty seconds to make sure I didn’t walk into a dresser. I couldn’t see my own hands let alone if the man was still ahead of me or not. I couldn’t even hear his footsteps.

“Hey, you still there?” I called out as softly as I could.

Two hands were placed on my shoulders.

Pff.

“Dammit dude, did you shit yourself?” He whispered behind me.

“You scared the shi-… fuck out of me. I thought you were one of them-I just got nervous.”

“Gross, don’t do it any louder than that again or they’ll probably hear your ass... figuratively. Just keep walking forward and I’ll tell you when we’re there.”

That was fairly embarrassing despite the circumstances. I tried to pretend it didn’t happen by focusing on the black plane that was slowly swallowing my sanity.

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The dog wasn’t barking anymore.

I wish I could’ve thanked it. No chance I would still be breathing without its help.

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“Just a little further.” He said.

I felt kind of giddy, like I needed to let out a good belly laugh. I guess I’m starting to lose the game.

I falter slightly as I feel the ground beneath my feet become slightly pillowy. The man pulls on me gently to make me stop walking.

“Don’t say a word, don’t make a sound, don’t even breathe too deep until I say that it’s okay. Stop holding that pole outwards. Clutch it to your chest. Turn to the right and walk until I give the word. Roll your feet.”

I did as I was told. I guess somebody had put blankets down as a directional indicator in the darkness. Some kind of silent landmark was way better than walking into a table. Clever.

The man placed a little bit of pressure on my back to urge me forward again. I walked slowly, more from pain than by choice, and treaded quietly in the darkness. There was no trace of light. No bleed from the opening in the ceiling was reaching anywhere near here.

It felt like I was walking with my eyes closed.

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We walked for what felt like ten minutes, but it was probably more. I was trying to mentally play The Only Moment We Were Alone in my head, but I only remembered the first four minutes. It was hard to focus on retrieving my memories with a wall of vantablack nothingness crawling militaristically into the wrinkles of my brain.

I guess when he said “Just a little further”, that meant more like “Just a little further to the place where we turn to keep walking for however long I feel like it without telling you." Whatever, I wasn’t about to be ungrateful. I did consider asking how much longer we had, but I didn’t like the idea of breaking the one rule the much more well abled person had set for me. It’s not like I was bad at walking or anything.

I was, however, exceptionally bad at not talking.

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I’m genuinely surprised to this day that I didn’t scream at the top of my lungs when I felt something obviously alive brush against my leg. He must have felt me jump in my skin as he clutched harder onto my shoulders. He leaned to my ear.

“Relax.”

I tried to, but my nervous system was becoming gradually more comparable to an overheating pylon.

The moving mass brushed my leg again on the other side. It felt soft. I’ve felt that feeling before with my father’s dog. Dog? This wasn’t the one from before, was it? I heard it stop barking. I hadn’t heard it yelping or anything, but how could it have made it out of that without them all following it? Was that possible?

I kept walking, but reached down with my right hand. My palm met the soft fur of its back, as my nerves immediately fell calm again.

Good dog.

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“See that light?”

I definitely did not see shit. I squinted in what was still endless black. Nothing. I shut my eyes tight, hoping that eventually they would adjust. I stopped walking and slowly opened them to see the difference. Just the tiniest outline of furniture in front of me revealed itself.

A soft maroon glow.

“When they open the top, you have to go fast. Don’t worry about the sound, none are close enough right now to catch you, but they will be if you don’t move.”

How he possibly could know that there were none nearby would be news to me.

“Open the top? What do you-“

The soft maroon glow became a blanket of red to my light sensitive eyes, as it spilled over the ground and pooled around my feet. The source was a below-ground hand lifting a tile from the floor about ten steps ahead of me.

“What did I just say? Hurry the fuck up.”

I snapped out of my suspense, and rolled my feet over to the opening. In the light of red, I could see the dog scamper ahead of me towards it. I tried to control the sound of my groans as I crouched down to the floor in front of the gap. I saw the hand of the man behind me grab the edge of the panel, as the one holding it up from below disappeared.

“Go on, they’ll catch you.”

“Catch m-“

Alright Cody, maybe not a great time to ask questions.

The dog hopped happily and gracefully through my legs into the small opening and disappeared. I worked myself onto my ass and let my legs dangle into the hole in the floor. I heard some kind of impact coming from down inside the hole about the same time that I began to hear a storm of breaking furniture approaching in the far distance.

I had a quick thought about whether or not this was a bad idea, and whether or not I should be trusting every person I meet here simply because they’re also human and also trapped in an IKEA. As I heard the first heavy raindrop of a Staff’s footsteps, I decided that I didn’t have the luxury to dwell on that.

Geronimo!

Pole in hand, I scooted forward and pushed myself upwards, tossing the weight of my body into the opening. I shut my eyes and winced at the horrible feeling of inertia being ripped away from me. It was about a full two second fall before I felt myself falling into a bundle of arms. I didn’t rip ass that time.

“We gotcha, you’re alright.” A gentle female voice said.

I was definitely energetic enough to be shaking now. I guess I felt a little better after walking off that 1,000 foot tumble. I felt my body being thrown to the ground as I dropped the pole. I think I was probably supposed to plant my feet, but I was too off kilter and shell shocked, so instead I fell face first into the rough ground.

“Shit, sorry about that.” A somewhat shaky male voice said.

I heard the impact of another body falling into the arms behind me as I turned around. I could see a flashlight suspended to the ceiling of what seemed to be a small dark hole in the ground. There was a red blanket wrapped around it, dulling the flashlights volume and painting the light with its same bloody hue. The red glow illuminated the small outcropping that I now found myself in.

Okay, let’s see what I can do for you here.

Dark room. Much smaller, definitely not infinite. In fact, fairly claustrophobic. Walls look scabrous and, really, aren’t even walls. Every edge of the room kind of just slopes into the floor, which also isn’t really a floor rather than just where the bottom of the room is. Kind of egg shaped, but with a jagged and randomly chiseled shell. Did I mention that it’s dark? Well it is, but the red glow of the flashlight was enough to show me the contents of the room. There were five people standing in front of me. That included the man that had saved me from the escalator feeding grounds, three other men, and one woman. None of them looked any better for wear.

From the look of four of them, I would expect a fifth to be dragging their knuckles on the ground with a massive….. (Does that reference land, or do I need to RA that? I’ll get the hang of it. They all looked pretty fucking bad is what I’m trying to say.)

One of the unfamiliar, male, walks quickly up to me. He’s young, maybe only a year or two older than me at the most.

“Are-…. Are you from upstairs?”

Upstairs? The dark nightmare up-hole upstairs, or the only slightly less nightmare up-escalator upstairs?

“Well…. I guess so, yeah.”

My savior spoke up, as he removed two bottles of water, which I assumed had been mine, from his coat pockets.

“Back off em’. He busted his ass falling down the stairs, he isn’t here to save us.”

“You don’t know that! Did you talk to him about it in the middle of bringing him here?! Do you have any reason to believe that he can’t?!”

“Christ, Nick. Look at him, he’s fucking battered. I just barely saved him.”

The boy, Nick, looked me over with pleading eyes. His fists were curling shakily. I had seen myself in a mirror recently, and I definitely didn’t look like a hero. If anything, I probably looked like a pretty big let down for anyone who was hoping for salvation. Eventually he looked back up to my eyes with a dejected face.

“WHY?!” He yelled.

One of the other men ran up and grabbed him by the arm.

“Would you shut your mouth, dude?! What the hell is wrong with you?” He demanded.

Nick relaxed in his skin slightly, but only in a crestfallen relent. My savior looked from the two of them back to me.

“What the hell happened to you anyway?” He said. “That can’t be all from the fall, can it? You look goddamn terrible.”

Tell me what I don’t know. Also, how am I supposed to answer that? How about…

“I also fell off a bookshelf trying to find a café.”

He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Tall bookshelf?”

I mean…

“Fucking tall enough.” Tall and Brunette.

“Are you sure you can’t save us?” Nick barged back in to ask again.

Hello? I just got here.

“Jesus, Nick. What are you expecting, the fuckin’ A-Team?” The man holding him asked.

I didn’t like the way that he talked to him. I spoke up as politely as I could.

“Um, look, I’m not really sure what you even mean by that but… I would guess the answer is no………. I’m sorry………”

My savior moved away and began pacing, as Nick looked to the ground with a heartbroken expression.

Heartbroken isn’t a good word, broken is better.

I looked around at the other two. Neither of them were looking at me. Both were looking downcast in different random directions. I didn’t know what this hole was, but it didn’t feel like a nice place. Even whilst blinded with a whole new universe of confusion, I had felt at least moderately relieved whilst being hauled into Return and Exchange. I basically felt like I was still out in the open here.

“Um….. thank you guys for letting me in………. are um……. are the staff not going to be able to get down here?”

The woman looked up to me in an incredibly awkward fashion.

“The panel is bigger than the shaft’s opening. It can only open from the inside. Not like they could grip onto it anyway,” She said.

Cool. Nice to know that their dexterity isn’t solid enough to beat me in a game of Jenga. Through the legs of the woman, the dog emerged and ran up past the five towards me. It looked down to me on the ground, and stuck its nose in my face, staring right at me.

“Uhhhh…. Hey boy.”

“Girl,” The otherwise silent man corrected without looking at me.

She sniffed me a little bit, and then paused silently. I think I was being interviewed for the third time this week. This one went a lot smoother, as she licked my cheek and panted happily.

“Girl….. hey girl… thank you for saving me. I owe you one.”

She gave a small squeak that I heard as a proud “you’re welcome.” Cute, why the fuck is a dog here? HOW the fuck is a dog here? And I mean simply from a practicality standpoint. Speaking of practicality…

I looked around the room a little more. This place doesn’t look like a shelter. It’s just… a hole. There was a metal bookshelf that looked like it was on its last leg in the middle of the room. Besides that, I can’t help but notice that the room seems, honestly, completely empty. Except for…. are those…. uniforms of the staff piled up on the floor?

I didn’t know exactly what to say to these people at this point. Should I just address the elephant in the room? Why is this kid so badly looking for someone to save them?

You usually don’t need salvation if you’re doing okay. Well, I guess that’s a concept which has always escaped me, so what do I know?

“Hey, are you guys like, trapped in this hole?……. Did I just trap myself in this hole with you?” I asked, truthfully a tad bit sarcastically.

The man still holding Nick gave me a quite certain “you’re a dumbass” glare.

“You think we’re trapped here? How dumb can you be?” He spat.

Now hang on just a second…

“Okay so…..”

When I said empty, I meant empty. This was not Return and Exchange, this was a desolate pit. No beds, no homes. This looks like a place that just happens to be here, not a beacon of survival.

“Why are you down here?” I asked.

I didn’t get an answer to that question as everyone stayed silent. The woman awkwardly stepped forward slightly after that long silence.

“Hey just relax, okay? um…. I’m Anne Marie, you already know Abel (motioning to Savior), this is (motioning to the mostly mute Gender corrector) Anthony, and this-“

“-Anne, shut up, don’t introduce me to this guy. We don’t know what he could do,” The cardinal asshole piped up angrily.

What a dick, even though I was truthfully kind of thinking the same thing. Like, did I ask for your names, or did I explicitly ask “why are you down here?” Let’s try again, maybe the asshole is more realistic. Hopefully more direct if anything.

“This place, not this hole, this lower level, it seems like certain death. Do you guys… live down here?” I said to him.

He quickly shot a look of disbelief back in my direction, threw Nick’s arm away, and proceeded to barrel towards me.

“Live?! LIVE?!” He screamed hypocritically.

“Wyatt!” The woman spoke up for justice. “Keep your voice down.” (Here’s to being disappointed she didn’t say “Quiet, Wyatt!”)

Right before he reached me, he stopped dead in his tracks as the dog turned to him and growled lowly. A true-blue guardian breed. We were ostensibly “safe” from the outside threat. The greener-grass of this new group of survivors is that nobody had died in order for me to meet them. And yet, everything was so fucking on edge for no apparent reason. I didn’t want to get angry. I didn’t want to be like I was up there, but I felt a lot more justified to that emotion right now.

“Is somebody going to answer me? Yes, live. Do you live down here?”

An unbelievable anger boiled behind Wyatt’s eyes. Ughhh, here we fucking go….

“Nothing lives down here. It runs until it can’t run anymore and then it dies.” Wyatt said.

Jesus Christ. I felt like I was talking to a group of astrology fueled sorority girls.

“What does that mean though!? Why are you down here? Did you just fall down the escalator too?”

“No, of course not. I rode down it and calmly strolled past the employees until I found this hole and stuck myself in it.”

Okay, I tried. Now it’s definitely justified.

“Listen, fuck you, asshole. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on here.”

“Asshole?!”

The dog started growling again, even louder now, bearing its teeth. I didn’t need it to guard me, I was prepared to fight this Sean V2 myself if I needed to. What’s more damage to an already destroyed body? He doesn’t look like the type that could beat me worse than she did, he just looks like he wants to be.

“Kanata!”

I was about to stand up when a female voice spoke from behind me. I hadn’t even noticed that there was another whole person in this room. It sort of scared me, but not anymore than the rest of this place did. The dog whimpered, turned around and ran behind me. I turned and saw the girl who had called its name. She was much younger, probably only about…..

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I don’t know how. Elijah hadn’t described anything but her age but….. something just told me it was her. The dog ran up to where she sat and threw itself happily in her lap.

“Hey, baby. It’s okay.” The girl cooed.

Kanata? Never heard that name for a dog. Would it be Kanato if they were a boy? Kanata rolled over in her lap, head rolling back in delight as the girl rubbed her stomach with both hands.

“I’ve gotcha, girl.”

What was her name again? Would it be creepy to act like I knew her? I mean, I guess I could introduce myself. How would I do that though? Hey, nice to meet you. I’m the murderer that got kicked out of your home, and now I know your name. Wait a second. Holy shit. Everybody at Return and Exchange was probably looking for her, right? She’s here. Alive. Everybody probably thinks that she’s dead. Even if Robert was holding onto the hope of his child returning miraculously, I’m sure that even he had come to terms with the reality in the back of his mind.

But it’s not reality. I mean, if this is actually her.

“Hey.. um.. you wouldn’t happen to be-“

“-Shh.”

She didn’t even look up at me, but I knew it was towards me. She stopped scratching, as Kanata’s nose shot up towards the ceiling at attention. Everybody else remained silent as well. I looked up towards the ceiling. The shaft that I fell down was pretty long, but through the panel at the top of it, I could hear them. The repeated wet impact of an army had reached us. Bustling. It was hard to tell how many there were. Probably less than the horde that had followed me out of bed that night, but so much more than the amount I had seen in the opening below the escalator. The extras must have heard our arguing from God knows how far away, and were just now reaching what they hoped was the source of their victims' to-be's sound. Whilst the crowd certainly didn’t sound as big as my virgin encounter, their footsteps sounded heavier, almost angrier. The light alone may be what controls these things’ temper, but something about this place, this basement, certainly didn’t bode well for what these things become. I don’t even know the extent of how terrible they can be, but I know that it’s worse here. This was bad. Through the clamor above, I could hear Nick softly crying. Wyatt quietly told him to shut the fuck up. I didn’t like Wyatt very much, but it was warranted. The sound of the pounding footsteps continued for about three minutes straight. Somewhere in those three minutes I heard the little girl speak so extremely softly behind me.

“Don’t talk to me about that place. At least not in front of them.” She whispered.

Not in front of them? What does that-

An exceptionally loud smashing sounded against the panel and rattled me to the core. What the fuck?! Did they hear her? Are they trying to get down here now? No way. No way they heard that. I barely heard it. But…

I remember my night in the armoire. Just one shaky breath from so far away and it was on me. And as fast as they are, to still show up this long after a fairly large amount of yelling, they must have traveled such a far distance to reach us. Another bang. I don’t know how strong they were, but if that was one of them pounding with their fists, it was much too loud to be coming from something anywhere near weak. Another bang, another. Another. Another. It still had the same splash of wet flesh, but behind the cover of the hatch, it was like a muffled shotgun.

Like a silencer of human flesh.

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What felt like an hour passed as we remained frozen.

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Finally quiet. Well besides from the soft crying. Everybody stayed silent for about ten minutes more.

How long would we have to stay silent for? Could they hear us from any distance in the entire infinity? But the woman said they couldn’t get in, so, does it even matter if we stay silent? And if it does, then was it possible that the one that was banging could’ve broken in? It sounded like it was about to. Have they dealt with that before? Are they just as scared as me right now? Surely we wouldn’t have to just stay silent forever. We eventually had to get food. I mean, obviously I don’t think the Staff care about yielding to our needs, but we have to. These guys know that, right? Holy shit, how do you even go about traversing total darkness to find a café down here?

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Do you?

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Come to think of it, I remember how eerily destroyed all the furniture looked down here. What if the café was the same way? Would anything in it even be edible? Is it even possible to live down here?

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Well, I guess somebody had already answered that question for me. And as Abel had said, you don’t exactly just walk yourself back up the stairs.

I broke the silence.

“Are you guys dying down here?”

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After what was definitely ten more minutes of silence where we all waited for the Staff to return with no such result, I got my answer. It came from the silent man named Anthony.

“Fucking duh.”

Nice.

My objective of “living” got the slightest bit harder to achieve today.

 

(Part six coming soon!)

 

 

 

 

 

PART FIVE!!! BOOBY-TRAP THE STALEMATE BUTTON!!!

 

First of all, really sorry about the gaps between these chapters, they really are almost fully written by the time the previous one comes out, but the editing is a pretty intimidating thing to me. I’m always unhealthily worried about setting things in stone. That is kind of my job here, so sorry to have it take so long. Besides from other things I’m focusing on, Jerma and Hivemind are taking up most of my free time.

 

Anyway, the chapter’s obviously out now, so I hope you like it! I’ll leave the spoiler here that you obviously haven’t nearly seen the last of  Return and Exchange, but you probably guessed that on your own. This chapter’s sort of whiplash-ish. It’s WAY longer than I planned on it being with its outline, but I think that happens to me every chapter, sorry.

 

This is a very kind of fuse-lighting chapter for a lot of stuff that will come up much later, so it’s mostly just fun set-up, but I like it a lot. I do find it the peak of Cody being a really irritating protagonist, so I also hate it in its own special way, but since it’s the peak, it’s also the beginning of me having some reasons to not hate him. You’ll still have plenty of reasons TO hate him come up first, but it’ll be a nice 50/50 mix in not too long. 

 

Anyway, I’d love to talk a lot about this mysterious horrible basement, or this new sketchy group, or how much I couldn’t wait to add Kanata to the story, but there will be plenty of those things in the next chapter, so you’ll get more than enough of them soon.

 

Alsooooo, I realized that I forgot to do a fact that nobody wanted last time, so here’s two.

 

First, is that I’m actually much more of a cat person than a dog person. Annnndd, second, is, I don’t know, I’ve never seen Fight Club?

 

Coming up with facts about yourself is hard. There’s a reason that I write about fake people instead. 

 

Sorry again for the wait (to anyone who’s actually waiting at this point, lol), next part won’t be as far away.

 

Thanks guys!

 

(P.S.: to the nameless guest reviewer on FanFic, you’re totally right, and no, I did NOT notice that I had the first genre set to Humor. It’s supposed to be Horror. I am EXTREMELY sorry for however much of it you sat through whilst waiting to start laughing. Awkwaaard…)