Chapter 2: Chapter One - Purgatory
My phone was already slipping from my grasp as the screen dimmed before cracking against the hardwood flooring. The revelation made everything spiral out of control around me to the point where I couldn't tell if it was just the anxiety or the fear tying a noose around my neck. I needed to calm down, or else I knew I'd be done for. So, I slowly sank my nails into my palms in hopes of diverting my attention.
Pain has always been a good response, but I try to avoid depending on it. I could already see a bead of blood trickle down past my knuckle and splotch against the floor as my breaths slowly normalized. The fear of getting used to the pain hit close to home since I remember how that felt. If I could still feel, I wouldn't die anytime soon.
As I brought my hands down to rest on my hips, I realized my holster was empty. I felt violated knowing someone stole from me but, at least I knew I wasn't alone. If this was some sick psycho's funhouse, I had a chance at escaping, although I had to tread carefully. One wrong move, and I'd have a bullet hole in the back of my head.
Much to my dismay, when I tried to open the door, it was jammed shut. Luckily, the old oak door showed signs of rusting at the hinges as well as decay. So, I brace myself against the door while holding the handle as support. I knew this would be loud, but I had no other option except flailing at the window.
I've broken down a door before although, it was still surprising how easily it cracked open as I tumbled through. But, I wasn't prepared to feel the heat of a boiler room on the other side as steam billows above my head. Trying to take a breath felt like inhaling a carton of cigarettes, and I desperately wanted the stale air back. Little did I know, the only thing behind me was a slab of concrete walling.
"What… the hell?" I mutter to myself as I try to avoid wheezing out my lung by covering my face with my jacket.
It felt like the place had a mind of its own as chains rustle to life and the steel flooring creak under my weight. I couldn't tell which way was which once the steam filled up the room anymore. As I took a step forward, it felt like the ground expanded beneath me. It made me question all my abilities, and the voices of doubt made it clear as day.
"You can't do it."
"You're doomed for failure."
"Why are you trying?"
If I listened to them any longer, I'd go insane, so I feebly covered my ears. Steam rises naturally to the top; therefore, staying low and hugging the floor is my best bet. But, as I crawl on the floor, the more I notice the inconsistency of the room. While the sounds of machinery echo in front of me, I can't seem to get close to it, no matter how desperate I am.
As I come to a halt, the steel flooring starts to rust rapidly and decay into nothingness in front of my eyes. In its wake, the wispy black tendrils made a resurgence from the darkness, lashing out wildly. I would have moved back but found my feet dangling over the abyss, with nothing to fall back to. In a fit of panic, I started to claw my way up on whatever footing I could get.
"Stay away!" I scream as I attempt to bat away the tendrils but inevitably get tangled in a black mass.
Soon, my body gave up as my nails peeled off from gripping the edge of the floor by the tip of my fingers. I thought I'd hit the bottom of something if I closed my eyes and let gravity take me. As the sound of machinery fizzles out of the background, the sweet promise of the near. Yet, it never came as I opened my eyes back to a familiar dim fluorescent bulb dangling above my face.
At first, I thought it was all a fever dream, but the throbbing pain in my bare fingers told me otherwise. The main question spiraling through my head was trusting my logic in this godforsaken place. If it wasn't an elaborate prison, what is it?
Suddenly, the crack of splintering wood coming from the boarded window jolts me out of my thoughts. The sound of someone cranking a rusted handle grates my ears as I step off to the side in preparation and wait in silence before a drill head bores through. It just barely stops from scrapping against the thick glass as it's violently being wiggled out of the socket. After a few minutes passed, I thought it would be okay to take a peek until I saw someone peering in from the other side.
"Oh, shit!" I shriek before I pull back and kick the window out of frustration.
Whoever is on the other side didn't seem to be too fazed as they remained wired like a person hyped up on drugs. The whites of their eye had been enveloped in yellow; heavy signs of jaundice cut through by streaks of red. I wanted answers, but the way the person's eye flicked to each corner of the room felt uncanny. My disgust must have shown on my face, though, since the person broke the silence.
"Hehehe, you must be the new neighbor I've been hearing about." The person cackles, carrying a distinct gnarly tone of an old man. "You'll fit in fine inside your quaint new apartment."
"Apart- No! Who the hell are you, and where the hell am I!?" I demand as I try to regain my composure.
"Me…? Well, I'm just the friendly neighborhood observer tasked with watching all the tenants. Don't you remember? You signed a lease in blood." He says nonchalantly as if this is an everyday occurrence.
"Cut the bullshit! Tell me the truth, dammit!"
"But, that is the truth. There's no need to be so rude about it." He sighs with an exasperated eye-roll as he pulls away. "Anyways, I have other tenants I need to attend to."
"Hey! Where are you going!?" I yell as I bang on the window, pressing my face firmly against the glass to see if I can catch a glimpse of him, but it's too dark to see anything past the hole.
"You best head to the communal library. The custodian doesn't like visitors in the boiler room." He says as his heavy footsteps echo away.
"What? But, I'm not in… No way." I choke up as I turn around.
I felt a grin creep across my face as I tried to stifle a laugh. No matter how I looked at the room, it was like I never left the boiler room. The steam had been lifted, only to be replaced by a few oppressive, dying fluorescent tubes on their last legs. It all felt like I was biting off more than I could chew.
Each step I take feels like I'm wading through an ocean, expecting something to drag me from the shadows. As much as I'd like to ignore the cryptic lunatic, I didn't like the idea of meeting the 'custodian' he mentioned. If this is his turf, I'm a sitting duck being in the light, albeit dim as it is. I'm lucky enough to have the machinery muffle my footsteps.
Among the clinks and clangs of machinery, I could hear the sloshing of a mop accompanied by a cheerful whistle coming from behind the third to last boiler. As much as I'd like to avoid the pathway, there was virtually no way to squeeze past the narrow gaps between the boilers. But I shouldn't jump to conclusions either about the custodian. There was still a hint of doubt lingering in my mind.
As soon as I peek around the machinery, I wish I hadn't since it spiked my anxiety over death. Hunched over at around seven feet tall stood a burly man with his back turned against me, who had blood smeared all across his navy blue suspenders like paint. I had to look him over a second time just to realize he was missing the top majority of his skull, leaving his brain pulsating behind a thin membrane. Yet, it wasn't his overall appearance that disturbed me the most but that he was using a severed head as a makeshift rag.
"You see, Janice? We make a good team, don't you think?" The custodian whispers to the severed head, plucking out any hair completely covered in grease and grime. "This wouldn't have happened if you stayed upstairs and let me do my work. Now, your pretty hair is all dirty."
It took every ounce of willpower not to gag as I muffled my mouth to stop the impending bile rising up my throat. Although I was able to gulp back most of it back down, once it burned the back of my throat, my gag reflex kicked in. I had to let it go since it was all spewing past my palms.
The custodian heard it clear as day as he whips around before dropping the head on the ground, letting it roll in front of me. The eyes of the woman stared up at me, lifeless as a fish you'd find in a supermarket. If I froze up for a moment, I knew I'd end up like this woman. In a fit of panic, I jump back and manage to avoid being speared by a mop, which had its wooden handle whittled down to a point.
"Who do you think you are? Bringing your filth in here." He scoffs as he strides over and picks up the mop.
Now that he towers over me, I had a clear look at his face, which jutted out in sharp angles that exposed the concaves and deformed bone structure of his jaw. Burns scarred every inch of his face, leaving large blisters dotted across his skin. If my innate fear told me anything, he was too big to fight on regular terms. He had a fair share of fights from how he held the mop, specifically dragging it low to guard his groin.
Before he thrusted down with one hand, I grabbed the shaft of the broom instinctively, which threw him off balance, but that didn't stop him from throwing a hook at an odd angle. If this were my first fight, I'd be knocked unconscious. That doesn't mean it didn't rock my senses, although I had a good idea to run. Yet, a good idea isn't the best idea, especially when there's blood on the floor.
"Where do you think you think you're going, you little rat?" He says as he drops the mop and grabs me by my ankle. "You aren't leaving until you've made this place spotless."
With a quick yank, he manages to get a good grip on my leg and lifts me off the ground. As I try to squirm out of his grasp, he winds his arms and flings me like a ragdoll into the boiler. The deafening crack of my body colliding against the boiler made my ears ring, through my ribs got the worse end of the stick. If nothing broke, then either my ribs or lungs got bruised in the process after the wind got knocked out.
Trying to suck down any oxygen became a chore as I choked and wheezed with each breath I took. The custodian already had an idiotic look of satisfaction as he deemed himself the winner by rushing down the hallway and starting to rummage through a toolbox. He wouldn't be wrong since I had to prop myself against the boiler just to keep from keeling over. I had to bet on my knowledge as I unclip my utility belt before wrapping the thick nylon over my knuckles once for a good grip.
I couldn't help laugh when he came back with his weapon of choice. I had a feeling he murdered the woman gruesomely, just didn't expect it to be a handsaw. He didn't even bother to clean it since blood had rusted the blade entirely. I had to bite down and hope he takes the bait.
"Hey, dumbass." I bark as I stand tall and point to myself. "I think you missed a spot. Your employer isn't going to be happy knowing you let a giant cockroach into your workspace."
I swear a blood vessel threatened to pop as my words sunk in. The custodian came charging straight in at full speed, trying to ram me into the boiler with a boot to the chest. This time, I had a good read on his reach as I sidestep and weave under his swing. Yet, I underestimated the length of my belt as it loops around his arm when I miss the back of his head with an underhand toss.
I had to make the most out of it since he planned to decapitate me, so I closed the distance between us. Gripping both ends of my belt, I constrict his arm enough to create space to swing behind him. I didn't have enough strength to clamber onto his shoulder, so I brought him down to my size by kicking the pit of his knee. He knew what I was planning to do as he tried to wrestle me off his back and clinched my leg.
Without any hesitation, I stab my hand into his head, gouging past the membrane and crushing his brain. He stiffens up, and, in the act of his last will, he falls back and slams me against the metal floor. I thought I'd be dying under this lumbering giant's weight, but I find a tiny bit of leverage in his skull to pull me out.
"Oh… Fucken shit!" I curse as I slip on blood and nearly faceplant onto the floor.
The custodian falling on top of me did a number on the bruises, making each breath a little harder to suck down. Just tucking my belt into my jacket was painful enough to make me groan in annoyance. I wouldn't be dying from a panic attack from this much pain; it was the pungent odor of the blood and decay. Nobody told me that killing someone would smell this bad as my tolerance reached its tipping point.
I find myself dragging a trail of blood along the wall as I prop against it. I could see the exit, lit red by the led sign hung above it. Yet, the more drawn out my breaths were, the farther it fell from my grasp. At first, I thought I was a little fatigued until my hand found a jagged cut steeped in blood on my side.
The cut was shallow enough not to bother me, but the blood wouldn't staunch as I tried to apply pressure. I needed to find something to wash out the cut, but my vision blurred with each step, shining the lights in disarray. The whirling of the machinery sounded akin to laughter, mocking my drunken movement. It wasn't until I found my hand on the doorknob did the voices stop.
Beyond the doorway was a long corridor, which stretched out into the darkness. I didn't have the strength to continue as I shut the door and slumped to the ground. I made no rush to peel my jacket off to examine the cut when I heard a peculiar rusted crank.
"Well, you aren't looking too well, friend." The old man from earlier says as his eye pops through a new hole in the wall. "I do appreciate the fact that you've dealt with the custodian."
"Put a- Ugh… sock in it." I groan as I tighten my jacket too tightly around the cut and bruises. "I didn't do it for you."
"That might be true, but now we don't have to fight over hot water now." He laughs maniacally.
"This isn't… A joke, dammit." I mutter as my eyes flutter close for a moment.
"Awww, fret not. All will be revealed in due time." He says as the scent of almonds fills the hallway and my vision slowly dims to nothing. "Just rest until we've brought you to the library. Everyone been dying to meet their new neighbor."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone