I wake up on a slick heap of blood and torn fur. My sweat mixing with the mice's in a red puddle.
My muscles tremble as I sit up, fingers brushing over the ghastly crater in my side. The hole's still there, ragged and unhealed, but shock has numbed the pain. I lift a hand to my face. My empty socket is just a smooth hollow now, and it, too, is eerily silent.
I exhale a ragged sigh. "Well," I rasp, voice thick with exhaustion, "looks like I'm stuck one-eyed from here on out."
The words taste like ash in my mouth, but there's a strange comfort in their finality. As the black smoke's ember glow pulses faintly beneath my skin, I realize there's no going back. Only forward, into whatever hell waits next.
If I'm trapped in this hell forever, I'll slaughter every last son of a bitch in sight—and when I finally catch the bastard whispering in my head, I'll take my sweet time ripping it apart.
I test a doorknob again, and it turns. Every lock clicks open as if inviting me in. I step into a classroom and press my forehead against the cold windowpane. Beyond the glass, the woods loom, twisted branches beckoning in the dusk. Maybe there's something out there…
My reflection shimmers in the dirty glass: ragged clothes smeared with blood, one empty socket where my eye used to be, and a ragged hole gaping in my side. I swallow hard and trace the wound with my fingertips—no pain, just the hollow echo of what's been torn away.
"I look like absolute shit," I whisper, voice raw. Yet somehow, seeing this broken version of myself steels my resolve. It's time to keep moving.
.....
I've been combing through this godforsaken school for what feels like hours. The water has long since dried up, leaving empty sinks and parched pipes echoing with silence. There's nothing left here. No answers, no escape. So I push through the battered exit doors and step out into the fading light
I edge toward the gate, every step echoing on cracked concrete. My hand trembles as I grip the rusty bars, take a steadying breath, and push them open. I step out...one second...two seconds...and nothing happens.
Relief washes over me in slow waves. I grin, shakily, and mutter, "Well, looks like I can finally leave this place."
I have to say, I'm strangely grateful there isn't a single person around, because at this point I'm completely naked. Those tiny little bastards shredded my clothes to tatters.
As I step onto the cracked asphalt, everything looks exactly as it did back home. Familiar storefronts, the old elm trees, even the faded crosswalk lines. Yet an icy wind bites through my skin, and the sky hangs low and bruised, as if the world has been drained of warmth and light. It's like walking into a distorted reflection of reality, where every detail is the same but twisted by a cold, creeping darkness.
I push through the shop door. It creaks behind me. My only welcome. No clerk, no customers. Just rows of snacks staring back. My stomach clenches and I feel a jolt of hope. I race down the aisle, grab a bag of chips, heart pounding at the thought of salt and crunch, and rip it open…
Nothing.
"Damn it," I groan, staring at the empty bag. The silence feels like a taunt.
I scour every aisle, rifling through snack bags and tins, nothing but empty wrappers and stale air. Frustrated, I kick the door to the storage room open and freeze.
My head swims at the stench of iron and rot. The shelves are slick with gore; blood drips in thick, sticky rivulets down rusted metal. Severed limbs lie piled in corners, an arm dangling by a strand of muscle, fingers twitching in their last gasp. Torso halves gash-open on the floor, intestines coiled beside smashed skulls, their hollow eye-sockets staring up like blind witnesses.
I gag, pressing a shaky hand over my mouth. A congealed mass of organs oozes from a shattered crate; its slick surface glints in the sickly fluorescent light. The walls are splattered, flesh and bone fragments embedded in the peeling paint, as if something carved its way through human lives for sport.
"What the fuck…" I choke out, every breath tasting of rust and death.
I freeze at a distant thud and slide behind a towering shelf, pressing my back into the cold metal. My heart hammers so hard I'm afraid it'll burst through my ribs. Peeking around the corner, I see him. a tall, featureless man in a threadbare suit, his smooth face an empty void. With one massive hand, he drags an unconscious boy by the collar, leaving smeared footprints of dirt and blood. I barely dare to breathe, watching in stunned silence as they vanish into the storage room's gory maw. Are these monsters pulling people straight from the real world? I think, every nerve in my body screaming that I need to run. Yet I can't tear my eyes away.
I slip out of the shop as quietly as I can, every step slow and deliberate. The door creaks behind me, but I don't stop. I don't even breathe until I'm a good distance away, heart pounding in my ears.
Then—
A scream.
High-pitched, raw, and full of terror. The boy.
I freeze for a second, guilt stabbing at me like a blade. But I keep walking. There's nothing I could've done. Not without ending up in pieces right beside him.
Sorry, kid… I'm just trying to survive too.
That scream told me everything I needed to know. This place is crawling with monsters, hiding in the shadows, waiting.
So now, every step I take is careful. I stick to the sides of buildings, duck behind cars, move low and quiet. I'm not just walking anymore. I'm sneaking, creeping, doing whatever I can to stay out of sight.
Whatever this place is… it wants me dead. And I'm not giving it the chance.
The cold cuts straight through me no joke, it's like walking through a freezer wrapped in shadows. And the worst part? I've got nothing on. Not even a sock. Those little freaks tore my clothes to shreds, and now I'm sneaking around bare as the day I was born.
I grit my teeth and head toward home. At least this twisted version of the world hasn't changed the streets too much. I still know the way. Every turn, every shortcut burned into my memory. If I'm lucky, my house is still standing and maybe, just maybe, there's something inside to help me survive this frozen nightmare.
After about an hour of sneaking through alleyways and sticking to the shadows, I finally make it to my house. It's still there, twisted a little, like everything else in this hellscape.
I pause at the gate, breathing steady. That's when it hits me—I'm not even tired. Not winded, not sore. Just... fine.
That black smoke did more than just keep me alive. It's changed me. I moved faster than I should've. Covered distance I couldn't before. And I was never the athletic type, not a sports guy, not some gym freak. But now? I can feel it. In my legs, in my lungs, in the way my body just works now.
Whatever this smoke is, it's messing with me. And I'm not sure if that's a good thing… or just another curse with teeth.