My head spirals as bright light jabs into my eyes when all I want to do is sleep. I could hear my friends speaking in murmurs as they gathered around, but my eyes felt too heavy to open up. As much as I'd like to see them, the dreams of my family brought me comfort. Yet, the sound of a respirator in the background helps lull back the past memories and brings me to reality.
If I live in this dream any longer, I'll just slowly suffocate under the regret of leaving too many things unsettled. But, when I open my eyes, I'm greeted by an instantly recognizable monochromatic room that is slowly getting consumed by the darkness as the bulb dims further. The only thing that changed was the taste of bitterness that lingered on my tongue as the voices died with the sounds of steady compression. That's when the pain slowly settles back in, reminding me that this isn't a dream.
"It's good to see you awake, Mr. Kita." The old man's voice chimes from the window as I writhe in pain. "Say hi to your neighbors; they've waited all this time for you to wake up."
When I looked over to question the old man, it didn't settle in at first, just how many new eyes were looking at me. I felt like an animal trapped inside a cage gawked as a circus attraction. Holes bore along the entire wall, creating an unsettling gallery of eyes, which dart to each corner of the room. Although it wasn't their gaze that made me feel insecure, but their laughter that echoes throughout the room as my face scrunches up in pain.
A cold shiver of frustration burns into the back of my mind as I try to snuff out the feeling. It was already bad enough with the old man hounding over me, but now that there's a party, a tinge of bitter venom coated my tongue. If I spat out that venom now, I'd be in an endless cycle of back and forth banter. I couldn't trust myself to climb my way out if I made an early grave from being too impulsive.
"See? You're already a smash hit with everyone here." The old man cackles as I pick out his eye among the crowd around him.
"Shut the hell up…." I mutter under my breath as I stagger back to my feet and head to the door.
"Not much of a people person, eh? You should go to the communal library. I'm sure you'll love the peace and quiet of the librarian's company." The old man suggests as I try to force open the rusted hinges of the door.
"I'll go where ever the hell I want to go," I say as I grit my teeth and bash my shoulder into the door.
I could see the ecstasy in their eyes as they watched me suffer. The slight lift of their eyelids and dilated pupils gave it all away. Each time that old man spoke, it was like he was narrating a play, and I was starring the fool. To make it worse, either I focused on them or the pain; I didn't like the options, but I knew the lesser evil was getting to me.
As soon as a gap in the door wedges open, I immediately slam the door shut. Yet, that didn't stop the old man from getting a stinging quip.
"You'll be back soon. There is no such thing as hiding in this apartment."
I couldn't help but get pissed off at what he said. The fact that I'm starting to believe in his words is driving me insane. It didn't help that this place felt like a sprawling labyrinth waiting for someone to set off its carefully laid traps. And, I couldn't tell if he was the devil in disguise since I found myself staring down a maze of bookshelves.
There had to be hundreds of bookshelves spanning down this corridor alone which dwarf a small house in height, leaving a good amount of leeway for the thirty-foot ceiling. Trying to peer over them would be impossible since the sheer size of the shelves would make the angle too steep, despite the wide berth between the linings. Sadly, the sheer size of the library seems to have left it in disarray as specks of dust cake everything. Just from that, I knew finding the exit wasn't going to be a cakewalk like the boiler room.
As I drag myself along the towering shelves, I find it impossibly long, no matter how claustrophobic the walls seem in my mind. The pain didn't make it any easier to navigate as I had to shorten my breaths to a standstill. At the very least, the books were lit by candlelight, which wavers gently as the occasional draft blows more dust. Although adjusting to the light was easy, the startling silence the old man promised still was jarring.
At first, I thought he said it to get under my skin, yet I hadn't heard a single footstep outside of my own. He didn't lie about the custodian, albeit somewhat vague with his warning. Since that's the case, making a breadcrumb trail out of books would help me out while guiding me through the winding paths. That's when I notice a few handprints trailing just up ahead.
They must have been the size of a child's, but I know a child couldn't leave drag marks along the top of a shelf without leaving evidence of climbing. Whoever or whatever was here must have just been here recently since the dust had yet to settle. To make it worse, I didn't hear a single peep or footstep down the hallway. After meeting the custodian, the fear of meeting a child that size didn't sound bad until I decided to look up as something trickled down my collar.
Staring down at me was a mish-mash of mannequin parts affixed to an oversized baby doll head three times my size, leaking out a thick black goo from its gaping maw. Each movement felt rigid as it slowly clambered off the ceiling onto the bookshelves, yet deliberately careful, cowering away from the flames of the candle. I knew I had to run away while I had the chance, but as soon as I got a running start, my lungs collapsed in protest.
It reminded me of a spider carrying its babies as every limb moves independently from the main body, almost looking like it's writhing in pain. I felt like a fly caught in a spider web, waiting to be eaten as it droops its head down, letting the flames of the candle lap the goo dangling inches from its maw. The lining of its mouth had to be filled with hundreds, if not thousands, of razor blades rotating in tandem. With my back pressed against a bookshelf, I couldn't do anything until the monster's attention diverted down the corridor to someone I never expected to meet here.
"…Ashley?" I choke up as I try to process the situation.
There's no way I could mistake those sharp azure eyes, even in this murky hellhole. The tinge of familiar make-up on her freckled cheeks highlights the rosiness of her skin without muddling her natural paleness made sure of that. If I had any doubts, her slender and petite body still looked the same, wearing the same checkered flannel and jeans from last we met. If there was anything out of the ordinary, it had to be her calm demeanor in this situation.
"Whatever you do, don't move from there!" Ashley warns as I spring up to my feet immediately.
"Ash- Just, fucken run!" I groan as my lungs bite back against me and nearly collapses.
My eyes kept darting between Ashley and this monstrosity, trying to figure out the best course of action. I wouldn't be able to make it in time to reach her, and even if I did, what could I do? I doubt I could run far in this condition; better yet, outrun that thing in these narrow corridors.
"Take a careful look at the creature," she says as she points up towards it. "It's not the brightest in the world, but it will snuff out those candles if you get too complacent. Just think of those candles as your lifeline."
"What? Ash… No, who are you, and what do you know about this place?" I question as confusion plagues my thoughts.
If this place had taught me anything, it's that my mind is a deathtrap. If she's really Ashley, there's no way that old man wouldn't yap about their being. Now that I think about it, if she already knows more about this place than I do, her make-up should be tarnished from running around longer than I have. Even from how the creature looked at her, I couldn't help but get a sinking feeling in my stomach.
"What are you talking about, Kita!?" She frowns as she throws her arms in the air. "Don't you trust me?"
"No… I know you aren't Ashley." I grit my teeth as she confirms my suspicions. "I've never told her my last name before… Even if she did know, she would still call me Gray since she dislikes being too formal. So, answer me."
As my words sink into the silence, her frown slowly morphs into a sinister grin as she chuckles behind her hand. In those moments, I swear her face dances between everyone I've known before settling back to Ashley's face. It was all enough to make the monster scramble back up the wall, but I couldn't tell whether it was good that the monster feared a kicked hornet's nest.
"What… the hell are you?" I ask as I take a step back.
"Now, now, there's nothing to be afraid of," she says with a twinge of madness in her eyes. "I'm just a humble librarian."
"I get the feeling you're hiding something. I doubt any humble librarian would be able to scare off that giant spider." I scoff as my hands clench up.
"Why the hostility? I'm your savior, aren't I? Are you saying you don't idolize your insecure delusions? I'm just like Ashley in that same respect, right, Gray?" The librarian smirks.
"Don't fuck with me," I growl as my anger reaches its boiling point.
She was digging into old wounds, and I was just rubbing salt into them. I knew I was playing into the palm of her hand by getting frustrated, but there's no way she'd know my life without knowing my name. She must have heard it from the old lunatic in the walls.
"Trust me," the librarian sighs. "If I wanted you dead, I would have let my pet tear you limb from limb. I'll say this once, I'm the only ally you'll have."
"Oh, wow… If that's the case, then, where's the exit?" I sarcastically ask as I press my back against a bookshelf.
"I'm happy you asked, Gray." She smirks as she brandishes a pocket knife with a sleight of hand. "Just die already."
As soon as she says that, I'm coughing up blood as I try to process the new hole gaping in my chest. I didn't even get a chance to hear the wood splinter from the black tendril writhes out of my chest, slicked in my own blood. As my gaze trails down to the tendrils jabbing in my legs and lifting me into the air, it took me a moment to realize that I couldn't feel my legs anymore. Soon, the voices came back to haunt me.
"You're a piece of shit."
"You're just gonna go to hell."
"No one is going to know."
By the time the librarian made her slow stride to my side, it had become all too clear that the voices were right. Her intentions were as clear as day; she planned to finish the job. As she dragged the blade slowly across my neck, my mind had already checked out, leaving me to hear each crunch and tear.
"Shh… It'll all be over soon." The librarian reassures me as I choke on my own blood, and everything slowly fades to black.
Then, a familiar stillness settled in. With the emptiness, it felt odd having nothing backing the panic etching away at my sanity. It meant I had unfulfilled regrets, but at least the emptiness filled one regret. I thought I'd get a chance to rest, but when the sound of a respirator echos in the background, my lungs fill back up as I flop like a fish.
The pain was there, but when I tried to find something to grasp, all I was left with was the tattered remains of my jacket. It cuts further into my mind as I feel the nails I lost grow back, just split apart, rending my skin. The hole in my chest wasn't there anymore, yet the memory of the tendril squirming felt fresh. The blinding light spiraling counter-clockwise didn't make it easier to ease the non-existent pain.
When I came back to my senses, it took me a second to realize I was back in that accursed room. The only oddity was the grandfather clock aside the door, spinning counter-clockwise. At the very least, those eyes aren't peering into my soul, leaving the holes as a soft reminder that they could pop in. The comfort it brought was short-lived as the old man stuck his eye in.
"See? What did I tell you?" The old man cackles from behind the impenetrable pane. "I told you, you'd be back. That's why I got you a present; to watch the time go by on the clock."
"Screw you," I hiss. "Don't you have anything better to do than to watch my torment?"
"Oh, on the contrary, Mr. Kita." He says with a delighted clap. "I thought you and the librarian would make you feel right at home. You did have quite a few pictures with this Ashley person on your phone."
"What? When did you-" I mutter under my breath as I pat myself down and carefully took apart his words. "Hey! Give it back!"
"What do you mean? Finder's keepers, right?" He hums. "You couldn't possibly need it after you abandoned it so recklessly."
Out of frustration, I slam my fist into the window. I knew it wouldn't solve anything, but when I saw the glee in that old man's eye, I snapped. This place took a toll on me, and it showed as I saw red glaze over the glass. The skin peeled back on my knuckles told me that I blacked out at some point; it wasn't a good sign since it means I've gotten used to the pain.
"Happy?" He taunts, unfazed by the splotches of blood trickling down. "Your rent doesn't pay for itself, you know."
"Rent? And, what do I pay in? Blood?" I sarcastically ask as I pick away the skin on my knuckles.
"Hmm… Something like that. Cleaning up after the custodian did help."
"What's next, then? Killing the librarian?" I prod.
"Oh, god, no. I wouldn't tell you to do something that foolish." The old man laughs hysterically. "The librarian is your guide. Think of her as your shepherd."
"Her? After slitting my throat?" I scoff.
I could still feel the sensation of the knife gliding across my skin as I rub my throat. I didn't want to admit it, but that was the first time the thought of death scared me. Nothing about death is pretty, yet when it's utterly out of your hand, it chills me back to my family. Thinking of her as a shepherd would lead straight into a pack of wolves.
"Wouldn't you say that she'd done you a favor? Your ribs don't hurt, I presume." He points out.
"No…" I growl as I clutch my chest.
There wasn't anything at all. The old man was right, aside from a burning sensation gaping from my chest. Now that I think about it, how did my fingernails even grow back without leaving a single claw mark? Better yet, why isn't there a single ounce of scar tissue where I was stabbed?
"Now, I don't expect you to go unarmed." He reassures. "As stunning as your performance was last time, cleaning up the custodian was quite the hassle. That's why I left a little gift inside the clock."
"This better be good…." I grumble as I pop the latch off of the cabinet.
Much to my delight, I couldn't wish for a better gift. My handgun snugged tightly in the back, polished and oiled up to perfection. There was just one minor problem with this gift… That old man only gave me one bullet in the magazine.
"Hey, if this is your idea of some kind of sick joke, I'm not… laughing…." I slowly trail off as I turn to see the walls crumble and kick up a blinding amount of dust.
As the dust settles, I'm met with the anxiety-inducing bookshelves of the library that I never wanted to see again. This time around, a makeshift reception area had been built out of a few rickety chairs and desks. To make it worse, I could see the librarian smirking at the far end of the desk, setting down her book.
"Remember to be kind to each other." The old man's voice booms across the library. "You signed a contract in blood and can't default on payment."
The madness had sunk a wedge deeper into my psyche, making me crack a smile. As I rack the slide of my gun, there's just one thing on my mind.
I want to go home.