Why did this hallway seem longer than before? Shouldn't he already be at the stairs? He was in so much pain he was starting to feel numb. If not for the blood flowing without stop out the wound that seemed to be continually widening that had colored his arm red and was even drawing an unbroken stream on the ground, and his eyes that were losing focus and turning increasingly hazy, he wouldn't even remember the pain. That wasn't even the worst part.
Every so often, the bright hallway with the cold walls would morph into the narrow backstreet buried under the high sky and the stinky air. His feet steady grew slippery. His eyes hazy and red turned white and almost blind. His breaths long and weak became raggedy and sharp. The fear, however, was constant. He was running from the devil both then and now. The dirty backstreet morphed into the otherwise spotless hallway, and the face changed, but it was the devil.
He paused when he saw a dark shadow in front. He reached for his voice and called out. "Help." He was hoarse and faint even to his ears. The shadow was silent, but at least it stopped. It seemed to be waiting as he struggled over. When he was near enough to vaguely make out the features of thin old man, with dark round glasses on his eyes and a slightly bent back, he begged again. "Help. Please."
He met the old man's gaze, praying for a little bit of kindness. He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he saw the old man's lips curl into a small smile. But quickly froze.
"Ah," the old man said in a strangely smooth voice. "Blood. Both on your body and inside. A fledgling. What are you doing here? Whose prey are you?"
The old man began laughing, the sound booming in the quiet hallway. It fell upon him like a large boulder. He would get crushed. The old man was just another devil. He wondered, what was he doing here? He fell back. Collapsing to the floor and crawling some distance before lifting himself to his feet again. He turned about and hobbled away. He didn't get far before freezing. On cue, the old man's voice floated over.
"Ah, A'Ran's little girl, is it?" The old man sounded amused.
His eyes cleared. The air thinned. And he saw the girl, dressed in blue pjs, hair falling free to her shoulders, standing stiff as a statue. Her dark eyes were like the abyss, he couldn't look away, he couldn't escape. The fear grew upon him, rapidly consuming him, burning away the last bit of sanity. Reduced to a feral beast, he snarled through his frothing snout. He saw red. Fear was all he felt, all of it coming from the girl. The muscles on his legs expanded, bursting with great energy. He flew over the floor, charging at her. When he was upon her, his hands turned into claws and he slashed at her.