4

The front was just as Pip remembered it, and still it bothered him, relentlessly. Damien reacted with agitation, scratching his arm and scowling at the features.

Upon seeing this, Pip asked him, "What's the matter?"

He scowled at an abandoned coach, but said naught and only shrugged.

The two traveled on the pavement, in between the coaches and close together. Barely comfortable and restless, Pip often shifted his arms from down at his sides to folded across his chest to his hands upon his hips to his hands within his pockets, never seeming to be quite satisfied by his posture. Damien, on the other hand, kept his arms folded across his chest, awkwardly itching as his elbow.

All was still dark and dreary. It had to be around two in the morning, Pip thought. He took his phone from his pocket and quickly checked the time for assurance, but grimaced with disbelief at the clock. With a firm shake of his head, he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

But then, Damien asked, "What time is it?"

"Oh, I don't know," Pip mumbled, "My phone's clock must be off."

"What did it say?"

"That it was three-forty-two in the afternoon."

Damien balled his fist, but let his go. He didn't say anything in return.

When they made it to the hospital at last, Pip was thrilled to see that the building was still standing tall and wide. Vines and rustic age climbed along the walls, the letters that made up the sign were old and faded. Some of the windows were smashed in, others were covered with pieces of wood and metal, but only a few of the windows sat unbroken, and still the glass was decayed and disgusting – it was seeable from the outside. Even the grass that carpeted the earth around it looked old and decayed, having turned yellow, or simply to dirt. It looked like a place out of a horror movie, a place no one could lucidly say they wanted to go. So much that Pip almost asked his companion why Estella should ever want to go there. He sucked in a breath, gazed at the building skeptically, but then gasped, and said, "There she is! Red was right!"

Estella stood before the tall door of the building, her back faced towards the two men as she touched her thin hands to it with care, as if it may evaporate if she be too rash.

"Estella!" cried Pip as he busted into a sprint after her.

She stealthily opened the door just enough for her to slither in, shutting it loudly behind her. Pip grabbed the door handle and tried to open the door, but it refused to open. He shook the door violently and screamed out with irritation. Lividly, he kicked the door and bashed his fist against the wood. He screamed out, "Estella, open the door!"

Damien grabbed him by the shoulders and pried him from the door. Evenly, he told him, "Relax, we can find another way in. Calm the hell down."

Shoving his hands into his pockets with a scowl, he calmed. But then, he gasped again and said, "I have a key! I don't know if it's for here, though."

"Try it anyways," said Damien as he stepped aside.

Pip took out the key from the apartment building. Taking in a deep breath, he attempted to use it. The key fit, much to their amazement. He turned it and bit his lip. The locks clicked, and the door unlocked, invoking a glad smile from them both. With the door unlocked, Pip put the key back into his pocket and opened the door and held it open for Damien.

The two entered hesitantly, closing the door behind them as gently as they may possibly do. The inside was lit dully by a single fluorescent light from the ceiling. However, it shone bright enough to expose the brutality and austerity of Hell's Pass. Paint began to peel off of the walls. The linoleum floors were destroyed and pulled up from the floor, thus exposing the concrete underneath it. Debris and other rubbish decayed upon the floors and the old, plastic chairs. The air reeked with a foul odor, that of piss and blood, strong enough to cause Damien cough violently.

Pip ignored the stench and inspected carefully. When Damien's coughing was hushed, he called out, "Estella, where are you?" There was no response, but as Pip's voice echoed in the room, underneath their feet, the earth began to rumble again from somewhere else in the hospital. They hushed and listened.

"It sounds like it's coming from the back," said Damien with wonder.

"I don't care," growled Pip, "I just want to find Estella and get the hell back to the real world."

"I think this is as real as it gets," replied Damien, "Even so, we have no idea how to get back to how things were."

The rumbling grew louder and closer. A loud bang sounded from down the hall, followed by a shrill scream. Pip turned to run in its direction, but Damien caught him by the shoulder and held him still. Pip attempted to pull away, but Damien was unyielding. He growled and kicked Damien, yelling at him, "Estella could be hurt, you ass!"

"Or it could be some bleeding psychopath," whispered the other harshly.

This pulled Pip back to his senses, invoking him to drop his stressing fists down at his sides. It was then that he realised the subtle infuriation and terror written in his companion's features. His brows pulled together with horror, and his nose wrinkled with disgust. His eyes looked at everything except for Pip, and had a fire burning within them. Pip could feel every bit of anxious hatred that radiated off his fellow man, and suddenly he had figured out why he deduced such a thing.

"You're scared, aren't you?" asked Pip, a hint of taunting within his voice.

The other hesitated before answering, "Why aren't you?"

"I don't know," said Pip, "But we really do need to find Estella. Please, let me look."

He hesitated again, then shook his head and sighed with a defeated demeanor. He said, "Fine, but it's your fault if we die."

Pip snorted and said, "I'd prefer it no other way."

The two went down one of the two hallways, the one that led to a corridor for different patient rooms. The hallway was much longer than either of them could exactly recall, and still, rubbish collected on the floor. The white paint peeled, aging to a very nasty, very slimy looking yellow. They reminded him of a woman he used to know, one of whom was so untouched by development, only making acquaintance with decay. The thought of that woman made his head throb again. He held his head in his hand and tried to stop thinking of her as they continued down the hall, but the memory of her yellowing dress, her whitening skin, haunted him from his memory.

They walked slowly and carefully. They stood close enough to each other that their arms rubbed together as they walked, but no one dared recoil away. As they walked, Pip could not help but notice the sound from underneath the earth grew louder and louder, just as loud as it was when they found Karen.

At the end of the hall, there was a single door. It was left open, thus revealing a much wider, darker room. Peeking out from the room, however, was Estella. She stood tall, twisting her curls within her hands as her fringe covered her eyes. She stared down at her feet, tapping the toes of her shoes together. Her left stocking, white and unstained, were torn from the inner thigh to her knee, and a small gash on her right arm, bleeding lightly.

Pip's expression turned hopeful and yearning. He smiled at his love's form, his shoulders rose as he took in a delighted breath of air. "That's her," whispered he, tugging on Damien's arm.

Estella threw her arms down roughly, tossing a small splash of blood from her wound onto her feet, which instantly stopped tapping together. Her fists were balled, but she said naught and motioned no more.

Eagerly, her admirer called out softly to her, "Estella, what happened to you? You're bleeding."

"Don't even ask!" she bellowed, her voice strong and ear-shattering, her accent thickly English and posh. Her volume caused the two men to back away with fright; she even shook her own frame with such a cry. Without saying another word, she turned away and vanished into the dark room. Pip hurried to chase after her, but the door shut in his face before he could slither inside. He threw himself at the door, desperate for it to open. He jiggled the knob, he smashed his fist against it, but he could not get it to open. After countless tries, he slumped down onto the floor and cried out, "Estella, what is the matter with you?"

Damien watched him with pity. He grabbed his other by the arm and gently pulled him up to his feet. He jiggled the knob, and it opened. Pip wasted no time and pushed his companion to the side to get inside, calling out for his lover, "Estella! Estella?" Damien followed him inside, but was then horrified by what awaited them.

People they recognised, people they were friends with, sat within the room. Damien distinctly saw the face of Kyle Broflovski, who had once been his neighbor, Tweek Tweak, who owned South Park's only coffee shop, and 5 others, all surrounding a single person who sat with their head in their hands in the middle of the room. No one was specifically deformed, but they were not at all the same, neither of them were normal. Their faces were unsightly pale, their eyes were dreadfully empty, and their figures were starved and lightly bloody. The person in the middle was the only one who was not abnormal, and looked merely miserable. They had bright red hair, a womanly figure, and held a jar upon their lap. Immediately, the two men knew it was the person from the music store. Yes, they even had the same ankle-length skirt coloured the same blue, and the same navy blue cardigan. They even sat the same as in the movie store.

"Red?" asked Damien.

The use of their name caused them to look up in horror. They quickly grabbed the jar and pressed it tightly to their chest, protectively. The other people looked up, too, but with a much different emotion than fear.

"You need to get out right now," whispered Red.

Bidding only enough time for him to suck in a breath, one person ran at them, the other followed. Damien and Pip retreated out the room, shutting the door behind them and running as fast as they could down the hall. The sound of earthed machinery grew ear-splittingly loud as the townsfolk chased them down to the waiting room. But, as they reached the waiting room, they discovered three more people – Richard Tweak, Stan Marsh, and Ike Broflovski. They, too, lunged themselves at the two men, chasing them up the second hallway. The ten of their attackers screamed and howled, one of them even screeched inhumanly. Pip almost found himself in tears, and he swore he saw a tear or two from Damien's eyes.

Eventually, Damien made an act of quick thinking, and turned sharply into a room, pulling Pip with him. Faster than it felt, he shut the door and locked it. The two men backed into the room fearfully as twenty hands clawed, smacked, and rubbed loudly against the door, wishing to break inside. The two men clung to each other in agonizing fear; they held their breath in their lungs and told themselves it was over. But then, the unbelievable happened – they stopped attacking the door. The sound of machinery underneath the earth faded into the distance, and when it was gone out of their line of hearing, Pip finally breathed again.

Damien, on the other hand, was not so easily at rest. He scrutinized the room, checking every corner. The room was narrow with tall shelves on both sides. The shelves were stocked with boxes, bags, and strange medical equipment. Dirty needles sat in a pile on the middlemost shelf, dirty bandages sat in their packages sat unopened, and much, much more. When he was absolutely sure that nothing resided with them, he breathed out in relief. He looked over to Pip, who looked back with an adrenaline-flushed grin. Damien smiled back at him and laughed stupidly as they crashed into a hug. "I can't believe we're alive," chuckled he, lowly, as he squeezed his companion.

"I've never felt so happy to be in a closet," laughed the other as his face squished against Damien's chest.

The two tore apart and fell into a lazy sit upon the floor. He was still winded and wheezing as he ran his hands through his hair and continued to tell himself he was still alive. He threw his head back and set his hands down in his lap. He fell calm, but just as he did, an old, boxy thing fell unto his face from the uppermost shelf on his side. He panicked, throwing it off of his face and standing up from his seat. When it didn't move or make a sound, he picked it back up with caution. It was a small, dark rectangle, covered in dust and dirt. It had six buttons, all the same colour black, except for one red button. It had a small slot for a tape, empty and full of dust. Quietly, he said, "It's a cassette player."

"That's coincidental," said Pip, "I hope it still works."

"I didn't throw it that hard," muttered Damien, taking the tape that Red had given to him and putting it gently into the slot. Hesitantly, he pressed the play button.

At first, the only sound from the speaker was static. It played for almost a minute before a soft, insecure laugh faded in, followed by a young, masculine voice saying quietly, "I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that," said a low, curt voice, one easily recognizable as Damien's, "You know I hate it when you apologise for things you don't need to."

"I know," said the first voice, "I didn't know what else to say. You know I'm bad with words."

Damien's recorded voice sighed and replied, "I know. You shouldn't be though."

"If I could help my flaws, I would. At least I'm looking for help, right?" they paused and laughed slightly, "I bet I'm getting in the way of you and him, aren't I?"

"No," said he, curtly, "You know there's absolutely nothing in his part."

"You're both just as lonely as the other,"

"What?"

For a small moment, the voices cut out and a small spit of static washed over them. When the static was gone, the first voice said quietly, "told me this town is for lonely people."

The static filled the tape again. It played for a minute or so, and then the tape ended.

Pip looked to Damien with a teasing grin. Humorously, he said, "And you said you don't know Kenny. And who 'him'?"

Damien glowered, offended. Quickly, he said, "I don't know Kenny! I don't remember this conversation! And I don't know what 'him' he's talking about!"

"Well you obviously knew him at some point," said Pip, "Because that is most definitely his and your voices."

"That makes no sense," muttered he.

"Nothing makes sense, here," sighed the other.

Damien thought for a moment, and then said, "I kind of want to find out, though."

Pip looked at him like he was mad for a moment. Then, he laughed, "I just want to find Estella and assure everyone back home she's safe. Maybe I could even ask her why she left to begin with."

"You really like her, don't you?"

"More than anything,"

Damien sighed and said no more.

((Sorry this took so long, my brain was in happier places.

Anyhow, I'd really love to know what you guys think is happening. I have no idea how obvious everything is.))