"Everything is wrong
This is not my home, is it?
Do I know your face?
Does my mind wish to forget?"
-Akira Yamaoka, "Hell Frozen Rain"

Chapter 10: Eileen

When I woke up, I nearly fell out of bed. I felt dizzy and there was a ringing in my ears. For a moment, the room appeared to be visibly rusted and bloodstained, but it faded into normalcy after a moment. I made it to my feet and grabbed the Chaos placard so that I could put it in the box with the other ones.

My radio was crackling in the living room, and as I mechanically went through the motions to store the plaque, it didn't surprise me at all that it had come on to let me hear the news about Braintree.

"Looks like another one, captain," the voice on the radio said. "1…9…121…on his head? It's just like that case from ten years ago…"

"Yeah, that Walter Sullivan case…"

"But Sullivan's dead; everyone knows that."

"Must be a crazy copycat."

You keep getting the numbers wrong, I thought irritably at whoever was on the radio. I looked into the box at my collection of placards, hoping I would not soon have one to represent Eileen's death. With that in mind, I pulled out my scripture scrap.

The Third Sign:
And God said,
Return to the Source through sin's Temptation.
Under the Watchful eye of the demon,
wander alone in the formless Chaos.
Only then will the Four Atonements be in alignment.

It didn't look like there was anything left for the remaining two victims. There had to be more of the scripture than what I had found, or the ritual would be the 19 Sacraments, and I wouldn't have to worry about Eileen. As it was, these "four atonements" were now in alignment. That didn't sound good, and it made me even more anxious to get to the bottom of this.

First, I went over to the hole in the wall and looked through into Eileen's apartment. She was lying on her bed, not moving. My breath caught at the thought that I was already too late. Then I saw just the slightest bit of motion as she breathed, and I relaxed. She was still alive. I could still make it in time to save her.

Without further delay, I ran into the bathroom, kept my eyes averted from the shower, and crawled into the tunnel.

xXx

My first impression of the new world was red. I was lying face down on some soft, red material that had the color of blood and a strange consistency that was hard to place. It wasn't carpet, but it wasn't any other flooring material, either. It seemed wet, without being slippery. Further along, I could see places where it was absent, revealing a rusty, grate-like floor beneath. When I stood up, I saw that the walls were also red, with an oddly fleshy appearance, as if I had been swallowed by some monstrous creature.

There was also a strange sense of familiarity to it, which puzzled and disturbed me until I saw that a door close to my right was labeled 301. This was what my apartment building looked like in the mind of a madman.

For a moment, I was paralyzed by my surroundings, but then I remembered that for once I was in a position to find the next victim and warn her. Better check on your neighbor soon… For some reason, the killer had given me a clue. Could it be that he wanted me to save Eileen Galvin? But no, that didn't make any sense.

I ran down the hall, a dull ache in the back of my head, noticing that the blood-colored surroundings vanished when I reached my own door. Here, the floor and walls were pristine, white, as normal as if this had been the real world. I could see the phantom image of a little boy, knocking on the door, but he faded when I approached. A shiver went down my spine, and I kept running.

When I reached the door to Room 303, I hesitated for a moment. What would I tell Eileen? What if she was like the others and saw only the real world here? Still, I had to try to warn her. Even if she didn't believe me, I could do my best to make sure we weren't separated. I lifted my hand and knocked. "Eileen!" I shouted, when there was no answer. I tried the door, but it was locked.

I prepared to knock again, but an inexplicable feeling of dread suffused me, and I turned to look down the hallway. Someone was coming. I knew they were, if not in reality then in a vision, for my head was pounding. My stomach dropped. Something bad was going to happen; every fiber of my being told me so. I took a deep breath, going very still when I saw someone turn the corner and head my way. Wearing a casual smirk that grew with each slow, deliberate step, the dead had come to find me, but in the form of one of the living rather than as a ghost.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Cynthia asked, arching one eyebrow when she reached me.

I was aware that my eyes were bulging, but I couldn't seem to form words. Alive? Not a ghost? The ambulance had taken her from the subway station in the real world. Had they been in time to save her after all? Was the killer aware that he had failed?

She was dressed the same as when we had met in the subway, and there was no sign of her injuries. The numbers her attacker had carved into her had been deep enough to scar, but I could see that the skin of her breast was smooth and clear.

Cynthia put her hands on her hips and leaned towards me. "Enjoying the view?"

"No n-numbers?" I stammered, looking into her face. I was aware that I sounded like an idiot, but my mind was still trying to catch up. "What… How… D-do you remember the subway? Who attacked you? W-was it…him?"

She frowned, her playful demeanor vanishing. "Attacked? What are you talking about?"

"At the subway station! I thought you were dead! But now…" I looked her up and down, unable to believe it. "There's not a mark on you!"

She stepped closer to me and put her hands on my arms. "So that's the game, is it?" She winked. "Want to go somewhere private to check me over for injuries?"

"This isn't a game!" I snapped, pulling away from her. She was alive, and she didn't remember what had happened? Maybe I really was going crazy. No. No, I couldn't have imagined all of that. "Cynthia, at the subway station, we got separated, and a man attacked you. You called me for help, remember?" I hesitated. "Well, you might have called me for help before the attack. That part's a little fuzzy…"

"Are you all right?"

I took a deep breath. No, I wasn't all right, but if I brought up my amnesia now, she wouldn't help me. "Look, I can't explain how I know this, but a serial killer is either here, or on his way. He's going to attack Eileen, the woman who lives in this apartment. I think she's in there, but her door's locked and she's not answering."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, waving a dismissive hand, "but you need to stop dreaming up wild fantasies and go somewhere to have some real fun."

"This is not a wild fantasy! I need to get inside that room to warn Eileen!" I looked around wildly. "The super's apartment. Maybe we can find the keys there!"

"We? You want me to help you break into another woman's apartment?"

"No, I—" I slumped, not knowing what to do.

"Come on," she said, putting her arm around my shoulders. "You need to get some fresh air."

I allowed her to guide me down the hallway, unable to work up the energy to do anything else. At least she would have to take me to the first floor if she intended for us to go outside—not that I believed we'd be able to leave any more than we had been able to leave the subway station—and that would take us closer to Frank Sunderland's apartment. I wanted to scream while pointing and the walls and floor, and demand to know how she could look at all this and think it was normal. I knew, however, that she would react the way George always had. Somehow, this was normal to her.

What if I'm the only one who sees this? I worried in a moment of panic. I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. No. Joseph saw it, too.

We reached the stairs, and my head started pounding. I tensed, preparing myself for the vision that was coming. Without warning, fear struck me with such intensity that I found myself choking, unable to breathe. I waved away Cynthia's frantic questions without knowing why, and my legs sprang into motion almost of their own power. The panic rising up inside of me was blinding, and I charged down the stairs at a frightening rate, taking them two at a time and then going faster. My mind was clouded by a sense of being hunted, cornered, in more danger than I had ever been before… Run, run, I just had to keep moving and get away from that spot…

I came back to myself on the second floor landing, bent over with my hands on my knees, panting for breath. My heart rate gradually slowed, and the last vestiges of panic faded. That left me feeling dazed, and I blinked around at the gruesome walls, trying to remember exactly what had happened.

A hand touched my shoulder, and I jumped away in alarm. Turning around, I saw Cynthia looking at me with a furrowed brow.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I don't know," I admitted. My skin was prickling with a cold sweat, and I still felt a little woozy. Nevertheless, I smiled, not wanting her to question me further. "It was just a passing moment; I'm fine now."

She furrowed her brow and walked past me. "Great. Now our dates are getting disrupted by psychotic episodes."

A number of angry responses rose up in me, but I squashed them and joined her in walking down the next set of stairs. "I'm sorry, Cynthia."

"I bet."

"What were our good, uh, dates like?"

She glanced at me sideways. "Not as bad as this one."

"You do remember meeting me in the subway station, right?" I asked, worrying that if she didn't remember the attack, she didn't remember my amnesia, either.

"Of course," she said with a laugh.

"So you remember my problem?"

"Problem? Singular?"

I looked over and frowned at her, but she only smirked and patted me on the arm. We reached the first floor, and she set off away from me towards the building's exit. I followed after a moment's pause. As much as I wanted to get the keys from the superintendent's room, I also wanted to see how she would explain away the fact that the doors wouldn't open.

Her slender hands closed around the door handles, but then she stopped and looked at me over her shoulder. "What's wrong? You're coming with me, aren't you?"

I folded my arms and leaned against the wall, not in the mood to argue any further. Go on. Try it.

She shook her head and opened the doors. A gust of cold air struck me, and I felt my eyes widening. She had opened the doors. Numbly, I made my way to her side and looked out. I saw the familiar trees that grew alongside the building, the brick walls of other sections, and the road that ran in front of it. Squinting across the street, since the entire area was shrouded by fog, I could see actual buildings and streets. It wasn't the building world out there.

The real world. The wind blowing through my hair had never felt so good. I leaned towards the doorway, trying to breathe in fresh air to remember what it was like. After so long of being trapped in my apartment and this nightmare, escape was so close that I could just about taste it.

"Well, come on," Cynthia said, walking outside.

I watched her go, her body swaying with each step. She didn't disappear, didn't get pushed back. Ice didn't swoop in to destroy the moment. She was standing outside, smiling at me, and when I reached forward, I found that I could put my own hand outside, as well. It seemed too good to be true. When I looked into her dark eyes, I found myself reeling with thoughts of a brighter future. I would not have to struggle through this horror story that had ensnared me. I would leave now, escape the nightmare, and be with Cynthia. She would help me remember everything I had forgotten. We'd be together, always. I started towards her.

Better check on your neighbor soon!

The memory of the bloody letters hit me like an anvil, and I froze in mid-step, still inside the apartment building. This wasn't just my nightmare anymore. Unless it was all just my imagination…but no, the ghastly walls of this otherworldly South Ashfield Heights were still around me. This was real.

You were always too late to save the other victims, part of my mind argued, but I drew away from the door, horrified that I had almost left Eileen to her fate.

Something was rising up inside of me again. Not quite the panic that had struck me on the stairs, but a different sort of fear. What was going on here? Was I making a mistake? What if this was my only chance to escape? And as an undercurrent to all those thoughts was a dark suspicion, a sudden concern that something was very wrong. There was something I wasn't seeing; my perception was somehow off…

"What's wrong with you?" Cynthia snapped, stomping back inside and slamming the doors closed.

I flinched as they sealed me inside this place once again. "Eileen Galvin," I whispered as an explanation, and then I turned and ran in the direction of the superintendent's room, throwing open the doors leading into the hall.

Cynthia hurried after me. "Of all the women in the world, you're ditching me for her?"

"It's not like that," I protested, reaching Room 105. "The murderer is going to get her!" I twisted the doorknob of the room and found to my dismay that it was locked. I jiggled it frantically and kicked the bottom of the door in frustration.

When I turned around, Cynthia was staring at me levelly. "Of course it's locked. What did you expect?"

My shoulders slumped. "A mysterious puzzle to help me get in, maybe…"

"What?"

"I don't know!" I cried, putting my head in my hands. "He's going to kill her… Even if I can't get in, he can… He might be there already…"

She let out a long sigh, and I looked up to see that her expression had softened. "There is no murderer… don't you see that?"

"But there is. He's dead, but he's still killing people!"

She stared at me for a moment and then shook her head. "All right, fine. If I help you get into Eileen's apartment, and it turns out that she's fine and there's no murderer, will you stop this nonsense and come with me?"

I nodded.

"Fine." Cynthia reached down into her shirt and pulled out a key.

My eyes widened again. First, I wasn't entirely sure how she had stored a key in there, and second, I didn't know why she would have it in the first place. "Is that Eileen's key?" I blurted hopefully.

She smacked her forehead and muttered, "I'm going to regret this…" She looked me in the eye. "Why would I have Eileen Galvin's key? Right now you're trying to get into the superintendent's room to get his keys, and I happen to know that the key to this door is in Room 301. This key is for that room."

I frowned, trying to remember who lived in Room 301. "Why is the key there?"

She shrugged. "I assume Sunderland left it there after opening it up so that the police could investigate the murder victim's room."

"Murder victim?!"

Cynthia held her hands out in a placating gesture. "Relax. That pervert Mike was killed by Richard Braintree? Don't you remember?"

I stared at her, not knowing what to say. I remembered George telling me that Braintree had been executed, but… that was impossible…

She grimaced. "You know, you better just stay here. I don't need you having a fit on the stairs again. You just wait here, and I'll be back as soon as I have the key." She turned and walked back the way we had come, body swaying again. A distant part of my mind wondered how she moved that way all the time.

More than happy to not have to climb all the way back up to the third floor again, I sat down against the wall and leaned my head back. What was real, and what wasn't? Had Richard Braintree been executed for murder years ago, or had he been alive until a few days ago?

I frowned. No, she couldn't possibly be talking about the murder that tied in with the execution George had mentioned. That had been years ago, and if the superintendent's key was still misplaced in the victim's room, the investigation had to have been recently. That meant it was possible that she was right—though how would she know about the key?—but had I had a neighbor named Mike?

Mike…?

My head started pounding, and I looked around. Something had happened…here, in this apartment building…

"How do you like that, you sick little freak?" a man snarled. It was Richard Braintree, his voice distorted with contempt. "You had it comin' to you! These clothes are disgusting! Get 'em outta my sight!"

"I know…" It was a woman's voice. "It'll be perfect to wrap his body in."

"Hold it," a man interjected, his words slurring as he tried to speak over Braintree, who had begun shouting again.

"You!"

"Hold it…"

"You snoopin' around again?!"

"Think I'll keep that one for myself… hold it…"

"Get your ass outta here before you really piss me off!" Braintree yelled, those words echoing in my mind as I returned to reality.

I felt dizzy. Had that been the murder? But that was impossible, because Richard Braintree hadn't been executed. He had been one of the twenty-one victims: number 19, Chaos. What was it, then?

"All right, here's the key." Cynthia's voice made me jerk, and I scrambled to my feet. "Let's get this over with."

I took the cold metal key from her, searching her face as I did so for any sign that she was lying about not knowing what was going on. But that was crazy. Why would she lie to me?

The superintendent's apartment was not very different from mine in structure, although the disturbing nature of this other world had infected it as well. Vein-like intrusions marred the walls, and rusted bars and cages had taken the place of walls and entire rooms. Almost immediately, my eye was drawn to a piece of bright red paper. It was the same shade as the ones Joseph wrote on. I ran over to it right away, but to my dismay, it was blank.

A note beside it was written clearly on white paper.

Found by Nurse Rachael.
Return it to Room 302…
together with the part her boyfriend (Mike?) tore off…

I sighed and shook my head. Now I could see that there was a torn scrap of red paper, as well. Apparently the distinctive paper was known to belong to Joseph, and Sunderland had intended to return the pages to him. I frowned. So, Mike had lived here before Joseph disappeared…

Cynthia cleared her throat loudly from the doorway.

Turning away from the notes, I found the keys lying nearby and picked them up. With the immediate problem solved, I was ready to head back upstairs, but I found myself looking around, instead. Something about this apartment felt off. Something about it seemed to call to me to explore it deeper, making the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

"Where are you going?" Cynthia cried, as I wandered down the hall.

Two of the other rooms were blocked off by bars, but one was open. I walked inside and saw that it was a bedroom. Unlike the rest of the place, this room still seemed fairly normal, only slightly affected. There was a diary lying open on the nightstand. Compelled to read it even though I felt like the ultimate snoop, I drifted over to see it.

The red box seems even stranger today.
It's giving off a terrible smell. It's disgusting, but I just can't throw it away.
It must have been around 30 years ago. That young couple was living in the apartment but one day they just suddenly disappeared. Ran off just like thieves in the night. I don't know why. It must have been money troubles, or maybe they got themselves into some kind of danger.

The problem came after that. They left their newborn baby when they took off. I even found the umbilical cord. I called the ambulance right away and I heard the baby survived, but I don't know what happened to him. Although a few years later, I often saw a young kid hanging around the apartment. One day he just stopped coming by. But now that I think of it, I'll bet he was that abandoned baby.

It's a horrible story. Abandoning a newborn baby... That all happened in Room 302... And the umbilical cord I found there... Well, I still can't get myself to throw it away.

The superintendent's words bothered me. I reeled backwards, head pounding but no hallucination coming in response to the pain. I felt like I was looking out at the world from the end of a long tunnel, or like I was falling forward from a great height, unable to stop myself.

"What's wrong?" Cynthia asked, grabbing my arm.

"Nothing," I gasped, feeling faintly surprised that she had followed me. "I just…feel…"

Her hand waved in front of my face, and I blinked, trying to focus on it. Slowly, I grounded myself in the real world again.

"I'm better now." I gave myself a quick shake to be sure, then forced a smile. "Come on, we have to get to Eileen's room."

She threw her hands up in the air, but she didn't argue.

We made it back up to the third floor without incident. I ran up the stairs, just in case another panic attack struck me. Nothing happened, although I did catch a glimpse of something lying on one of the steps in the final stretch. The third floor was quiet and undisturbed. There was no sign that the killer had arrived yet, and I let out a sigh of relief. My room still stood in marked contrast to the others, and when I looked carefully, I still thought I could see the little boy knocking on my door. I wondered if he was the same boy the superintendent had written about. Why had he stopped coming around? Was he dead, too?

I shivered and hurried over to Room 303, keys tight in my grip. I began looking through them, searching for the right one. I couldn't find it. With a frown, I went back to the first key and started looking through them again.

Cynthia groaned and walked away from me, going past Room 302 to pace at the end of the hall.

I ignored her exasperation, starting to feel panicked. I went through the entire set of keys without seeing the one for Room 303. I checked them two more times, feeling cold dread uncurling itself in my stomach. Somehow, the superintendent's set of keys was missing the very one I needed. Was it a coincidence? Or…

Or is the killer orchestrating all of these events? Is he stringing me along, playing mind games with me while remaining one step ahead? He was a cultist; these are his worlds. His power here must be great…

The thought of the man who had imprisoned me having the ability to manipulate these worlds at a whim chilled me to the bone. If that was the case, then I had no chance of ever stopping him. It would explain why I was always too late to save the victims, and why contrived coincidences were once against conspiring to delay me. Were all my attempts worthless?

Part of me wanted to simply give up and accept whatever fate awaited me. Another part wanted me to return to the first floor and leave South Ashfield Heights behind—to go outside and run, and never stop running until I was so far away that even these memories felt like they belonged to someone else. It could be a trap, but if he had somehow overlooked a way to escape his worlds, it could be my only chance.

But a determined part of my mind shouted that I had to try to save Eileen. Even if it was impossible, I couldn't turn my back on her when she needed help. If I did… then I was no better a person than he was.

I took a deep breath and nodded to myself. I had the keys to the rest of the rooms. Somewhere, Eileen's key had gotten lost. All I had to do was search the building from top to bottom until I found it. The hardest part would be convincing Cynthia to have a little more patience with me.

Preparing my arguments, I turned around. Nothing she could say or do would talk me out of this. "Cynthia, I…" The words died on my lips when I looked at the woman pacing down by Room 302. Once again, I felt as though the world was crashing in upon me. She turned to look at me, and everything I had planned to say flew out of my mind.

It was Eileen.

Author's note: It's been quite surprising to realize that my reviewers might know my writing better than I do. I suppose that's a good thing! It's nice to see so much interest. Now, if your theory about this story really is correct, this must have been a very interesting chapter for you... Also, classes are starting up for me again, so my chapter uploads might be delayed or moved to a different day of the week. We'll just have to see.