Author's Note: Chapter 2 of 3 is up. Sorry for the delay. Expect the final part of this story soon!


I don't know how much time had passed.

Days. Weeks. Months.

Perhaps when I opened my eyes this time, I'd be in a hospital having suffered from some sort of massive head trauma. My parents.. Eileen.. they all would be there. Everyone I loved..

Waking up, for lack of a better term, was a bitch. Pain had become a constant companion, but that wasn't what made my heart squeeze violently within my chest. I gasp, choking and sputtering for breath, every limb frozen with both pain and fear.

I was, in fact, in a hospital. A bloodied, torn-up, straight-out-of-hell hospital. I was lying in a dirtied bed underneath a once-white, heavy blanket. The blanket was so constricting, as if Walter had taken the time to tuck me in like a child.

I wanted to scream, to curse and cry all at the same time. Ignoring the pain, I kicked the filthy blanket away and sat up, legs swinging over the side to rest on the floor. The anger slowly began to subside, replaced by some form of rational thought. That was probably the only 'rational' thing about me. My body was wrecked, clothing torn. I looked like I just got in off of the street.

Shaky hands reached up and brushed the skin of my cheeks, a single finger running down the now scabbed knife wounds. "Damn it."

With my shirt torn, I gingerly pulled aside the fabric on the left side of my body, eyes trailing the deep purplish-yellow bruise that lined the skin above the tender rib. It even looked painful, and was a grim reminder that I was still merely human in this twisted world. I could die. Unable to look at it any longer, I gripped the injured area as carefully as I could and, grabbing a hold of the siderail on either side of the hospital bed, shakily stood.

In my mind, I tried to come up with some scenario, some idea that would leave me alive and Walter either dead or away from me. But.. he was nowhere to be found. I waited, listening for a sinister laugh or a mocking voice. There was nothing. This familiar hospital was extremely quiet. Unusually so. If this truly was the other world, then there had to be a hole somewhere and I wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of this place.

It was easy to ignore the mocking fact that I was injured and unarmed, the twisted steel pipe I'd used for protection before lying on the floor still in room 302, and it was easy to ignore how I could barely walk, let alone run if the need were to ever arise, and the little protection that my shirt provided against the nipping, artificial chill of the place had been snatched away as well replaced by the torn, bloodied bits of cloth Walter had left me with. A stripe of milky skin was exposed on my torso where Walter had used his knife in his impatience.

There was a synchronized pounded of my heart in both of my ears a I pushed open the door that was presumably the exit to the unbearably stark, cold room. As luck would have it, the entire warped, hell of a hospital was this way, perhaps a sadistic play on the typical coldness most hospitals possessed.

Limp. Limp. Limp.

I must have been a sight. An injured man in a hospital that would much rather watch him suffer than offer any assistance. I might have laughed if it didn't hurt so much to breathe.

The hallway, I realized, was eerie in its familiarity. Eileen. I hardly recognized the place without the occupant-less wheelchairs squeaking up and down the old wooden floors. It was, indeed, the world from which I'd rescued my neighbor, the very same hospital where I'd first met Walter as he dug violently through the abdomen of some murdered monster. A dreading chill danced down my spine as, but I tried to ignore it, concentrating instead on remembering what each room had held. Time had no hold here, so I did not know how long it'd been since I last visited this place, not that it seemed to matter. A tortured mind had blotted out all experience here and everywhere else I'd been, snuffing out the memories before they could permanently scar.

Uneasily, I tried the door closest to me, clammy palm slick against the cool metal knob. I turned it once, and felt the resistance of a lock. Eyebrows furrowing, I tried the next one, and the next, all of which producing the same result. This had to be the same place.. I recognized it, even without the monsters. But now.. all of the doors seemed to be locked.

Every footstep I took held its own echo, every ragged breath making me more and more paranoid.

God, why won't Walter simply show himself? I knew that he was watching my every move.. I could feel the icy stare of Death stroking my withered soul, waiting for a wrong move or turn. But as a harsh contrast, Walter's warm breath caressing my neck continued to play in my immediate memory.. his tongue, his teeth. I.. it had felt so good.. God.. it'd felt so good..

Your sanity won't last long here.

It was true. I could already feel it slipping away.. golden threads cascading through splayed fingers before I could close my fist.

Underneath my breath, I started the prayer again, wondering if God could hear me here.

Room after room.. all locked.

I paused near the end of the hallway—or what I assumed to be the end as past a certain point there was only an engulfing darkness, one that no light could penetrate. One hand still supported by the door knob of another fruitless room, I sank to the floor, too tired to continue on, too much in pain. Head tilted back, I stared up at the flickering, yellow lights, a hand rising to massage the no doubt bruised part of my neck Walter had claimed. Eyes lidding, my head lolled lazily off to one side.

"Take me home, Walter.." It was a plea, a plea of a broken and defeated man. I was fighting a useless battle; merely the hopeless, captured mouse resisting the playful grooming of the cat before it was killed. "I give up; you win. Please.. just take me home.."

Giving up meant death.

But, it seemed, I'd accepted this.

A hand print, bloodied and dripping fresh simply materialized on the door directly across from me. I perked, hazy eyes blinking to fight away the grey threatening to take over. Weary, I stood and stared at the handprinted door. What did this mean? I'd tried that door already; it'd been locked.

The door knob in my hand turned without so much as a warning, synchronizing with dozens of other identical clicks as other doors began to open as well. Immediately I released it and turned, watching the door creak open in muted horror.

Emerging like soldiers were tall, hulking creatures, all no shorter than seven foot tall, and all sporting melted, browned outfits that reminded me vaguely of nurses. I knew what they were. I'd fought them before. Like clockwork they all turned toward me, blank eyes holding a look of pure contempt and ill-will. The monsters were all around.. there was no escape. Except for in front.

I turned back to the door with the bloody hand print, and saw exactly what a grim part of me expected to. It'd creaked open just a little, but no monster had come out. Sparing no time for thought, I pushed open the door the rest of the way with my shoulder, breathing coming in short, greedy gasps. I shut the door behind me securely, praying that some sort of salvation: a hole, a key to what would draw me out of this hellish world, would be in his room.

And it was. Oh it was.

A hole in plain view, with no sign of the creatures that banged incessantly at the door behind my back. I didn't care if, as soon as I stepped forward, spikes would shoot from the ground or something equally as preposterous would happen, not when I was so close. Home was within reach.

I stumbled and fell, but caught myself on the edge of the hole, and pulled myself up into the crevice.

Salvation.