The Outsider

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, hoping to divert 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 rustled to life and the steel flooring creaked 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; staying low and hugging the floor is my best bet. But, as I crawled on the floor, the more I noticed 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?