Disclaimer: I don't own D Gray Man or any of its characters.
Temptation Is A Fickle Thing
He is humming a lullaby. It hurts your ears but you don't say a word.
Questions buzz in your head, like annoying, hideous flies. Why are we here? Where was everyone else? How did we came here in the first place? Why you of all people?
You want to know.
Something is making him very pleased. He skips and jumps as he walks, giggling with each step. His eyes gleam with a mischievous twinkle, more alive than what you have seen before. You grow curious. You ask him what is making him so happy. He doesn't answer.
Instead, he sings, the same lullaby he murmured earlier, only now completed with words. He sings louder and louder. Whether it was for his own amusement or to provoke you, you aren't sure. You fight hard to not clasp your hands to your ears. The song is now stuck in your head, ringing, ringing, ringing, never stopping, never ending.
The walls are bleak and dull, as if they were carved of dreary stone and mourning rock. You watch as gray figures march silently down the hallway, following and watching. You try to tell him, to look, they are not alone. He is too occupied with his singing to notice. Or to care.
Your heart lurches when you hear the faint echo of a whisper. You spin around, eyes searching for the source. But there is nothing there. Only you and him.
You both shouldn't be here, you realize. Someone or something is watching. It wants you to stay here and to never, never leave.
And now you know too.
He stops, seeing that you halt. He waits patiently as you hurry to reach him. His hand is a ghostly blur floating in murky oblivion, but nevertheless, you clutch it like a lifeline. He is the last thing you have, the last anchor of your sanity, in this place.
Before you, is a door. An ivory door, made of gnarly oak. It smells of cold steel and rotten flesh. You cough, eyes watering at the stench. You feel as if you would throw up, but the bile remained in your throat, burning and harsh.
He grips your arm tightly, nails digging into your skin, tearing flesh and biting bone. He tugs you towards the door.
You stop. Your body freezes to a stop. Chills run down your back. Sweat plasters your hair to your forehead. You feel cold, to the point your whole body shakes. You shiver suddenly, wrapping your arms around in a desperate attempt to shield yourself from whatever it is on the other side of that door. You don't want to go in.
" What's wrong, Allen?" he asks. He smiles deceptively, head tilting, eyes alight with something you don't understand. His grip on your arm doesn't loosen one bit. " Are you scared?"
Everything is closing in, choking your air off. All was silent but his voice. Shadows advance and you could feel them caressing your legs gently, almost playfully. You want to run but there is no place to run to. You want to scream but your mouth is already snapped shut. There is no longer any room for escape. You are trapped.
Tongue numb, throat dry, heart thudding, all you could do is shake your head.
His smile widens in delight.
He begins to hum again as he leads you down into the dark.