I know I should be working on more updates, but Until Dawn has sucked me in.. Bear with me, I've been working on different writing styles. The first person pov belongs to Josh, and the third person pov belongs to Chris.
My name is…
I don't remember it. I've been in the darkness for so long.
(Has it been eons since I was tossed down here, limp and jointless like a doll?)
Despite being utterly and entirely alone, I hear the constant shrieks of my new brethren resonating in the mines, bouncing off of crumbling stone and ringing in my ears; reminders of my prison. My hell. My home. Sometimes I'm convinced they aren't there, and that it's all in my head, but I wouldn't be able to tell the difference at this point.
I can no longer feel what I once could, nothing but this awful hunger that rips through my abdomen like knives, each individual point digging in deeper and deeper until, like the voices that occupy my head, I too cry out in need.
To some extent, I should be thankful for that. No more is the pain of loss constricting my heart like bindings, the suffering that had replaced the blood in my veins, heavy as iron and weighing me down. It isn't like I could tell the difference either way.
If I did feel pain it would convey itself in the form of my stomach growling its demands for this sick nourishment.
If I felt loss I would scream, some parts of my voice sounding out through these banshee-esque yells so clearly that I would frighten myself into silence; and for moments, hours maybe, I would sit in the still darkness, a statue of muscles tense and coiled in anticipation, terrified of its own existence.
With the passing nights that seem endless in these barely lit mines, I find myself less and less able to determine whether the events of my past were real, or whether they were all just a feverish hallucination of my decaying mental state. Was I a happy child? (I was not.) Did I have siblings who loved me? (They've died long ago.) One remains, but she's not yet returned. At times I almost worry she's never coming back, and I'll remain alone in this maze – then the hunger returns, and I can barely remember her name.
Along with my name, my sense of self, my humanity, I've lost too much, but not everything.
Even with the constant struggle to hold onto my identity, there has always been one figure that's been able to permeate this thick cloud in my mind.
And the sad thing is, I can't remember anything about them either.
5:00 P.M.
At the entrance of the mines stood Chris, the last remaining flicker of hope for the boy he'd once had the pleasure of calling his 'bro'. Regardless of how this went, of whether or not Josh was still alive… Chris wasn't too sure that'd ever be a pleasure for him to enjoy again.
He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, easing when he felt the skin there threatening to split beneath the pressure.
"I was his closest friend."
One deep breath.
"And now I'm his only hope."
A bold move, heroic even, but his plans were far from. The police had given it mere days before giving up the way they'd always infamously done, and now? Now, Chris was going to enter the mines alone. And he prayed he would make it until dawn again.
6:00 P.M.
"Well this place is massive and I've probably been going around in circles." He meant to sound annoyed but whatever irritation came up was quick to die on his tongue, and instead he sounded uncertain. Queasy and shaken and reluctant to even go any further.
7:00 P.M.
"Whose great idea was it to let me come down here by myself? Oh my fucking god, it's happening all over again…"
Somehow the horror movie cliché of taking things into ones own hands always seemed to come into play.
7:45 P.M.
The dot on the corner of his phone blared red, screen flashing to life to warn Chris of the device's dangerously low battery. He clutched it in shaking hands, staring down at it with the intense hope that the battery would refill itself.
To no avail.
8:30 P.M.
"Hello? Anyone? Please, please, god… please help me get out of here…"
But it was hard to move in total darkness. Maybe, maybe if he followed the wall with his hands…
9:00 P.M.
"Fuck this water is freezing… Just kill me now."
Talking to himself was the only way Chris was going to get through the lake without losing his mind. He only hoped it wouldn't attract any unwanted attention.
9:10 P.M.
"Josh, oh my god, Josh it's y—"
His breath caught in the pit of his throat, phone dropping from hand to clatter against the stone.
"Josh, man, your teeth…"
No. No, no, no, that wasn't Josh, it was something else.
Chris took a step back, two, one after the other until he was running from this thing.
He ran until he felt his heart would give out, until he saw peeks of moonlight ensuring some kind of safety, but… he never did make it out of the mines again.
I saw them again. The person holding some sort of promise that I wasn't completely insane.
I saw his blond hair, his glasses, the look of relief when he laid eyes on me. And then that relief melted into horror. His voice trembled, he backed away like a startled animal.
His name… his name is Chris.
Chris was my last shred of humanity, and he couldn't even look at me.
I rose from where I knelt on the cold ground, and he bolted. I could hear the harsh panting, the rough and frightened beating of his heart even as he got further and further away.
So I ran after him, tried calling his name now that I had finally remembered it, but he only cried.
Why is he crying?
Why is he running?
Doesn't he understand that we can finally be together again and find our way out of this hell?
I would make him understand is what I told myself, and what I told him when I finally caught up.
4:00 A.M.
3 hours until dawn
I have been in the darkness for so long, but Chris is with me now.
He stares up at the ceiling with tired, listless eyes that never move, and I – I bury my face into his belly, gnawing away at ripped muscle that twitches beneath my lips, pumps out more of that delicious red that coats my throat when I swallow it down.
I can hear the quiet sob he tries to subdue and it does nothing but spur me on to calm him down again.
With the intent in mind, I crawl up on hands and knees to nuzzle my face to his, taking in the musky scent that belongs to him before my head dips down to his neck. He only turns his head and chokes out another cry as I brush blood-stained lips and gruesome teeth against his throat, along the pulse point that practically quakes beneath enticing skin.
"Please, Josh, please stop," he begs, barely able to speak up and having to fumble through each stuttered, pained syllable. My hand reaches up to cover his mouth and quiet his cries, and my teeth bury into his throat to calm him down once more.
My name is Josh Washington, and I am no longer alone in the mines.