The world that her mind built (Redo)

Chapter 7

-Rorel's POV-

The man helped me up, lifting me off the ground as he walked through the maze with ease, dodging all the arrows that shot at me (I could tell by looking down at the maze below and was astonished to see myself floating above ground), jumping over small traps that were clearly hard to even notice and he made it halfway through. He set me down on the ground at the middle way mark, looking back at the 1 mile we just walked. Well, he walked and carried.

I looked up to stare into his eyes that somehow I couldn't pull away from, but before I could thank him, he shot a deathly glare at me.

"Well? What're you looking at. I'm in a crap mood today and we still have another half a mile to go." He stared at me for a few seconds before looking away again, angry with himself for having even said that.

"Sorry." I muttered as I pulled my knees to my chest.

"What? It's not your fault-" he reached out his hand before I flinched.

"S-sorry." I clung onto my jeans, pulling at the skin.

"Hey look don't-"

I started to shiver as I brought my hands above my head, expecting blows of some sort or at least a punishment. Memories flooded my mind, making me tremble.

I shivered in fear as thought of a pair of coarse hands yanking me by my hair, throwing me against a concrete wall before the burly man started aiming at my skull, making it seemingly dent with each hardening blow.

Just like what happened then. Just like what is happening now. Just constant torment.

"Rorel! Snap out of it!" The man yelled as he saw me being dragged by pure nothingness across the traps, being hurt both mentally and physically in two ways - my mind and what was going on below me in the maze.

"Rorel!" I heard the man shout in desperation as I felt thick hands choking me. I started to feel my throat being clenched tighter and tighter, and my eyes tightening harder and harder.

"H-help." I managed to choke out as the fists seemed to tighten around my neck, leaving marks on my throat.

The familiar feeling of ice cold metal revisited me as the shiny tip of the dagger was plunged into my stomach. Slick and slow, the blood from the wound started to trickle down and soon my jacket was damp and stained a deep, dark red.

"Stop thinking!" He sprinted at full speed towards my marred self in fluster.

I saw him dashing across the room, skidding on the slippery panes, before my mind tossed me effortlessly into a wall of rose thorns.

I cried in agony as my imagination tossed me into a pit of quicksand and a ravenous cluster of snakes.

The man rushed to my side, carrying me up again before sprinting cautiously and with hurried pacing.

"What happened? Rorel? You can still hear me right? Right?" The man started to fuss over me like I was some child about to die.

"I'm ok...I think..." I whispered.

"Yeah, just think that you're being healed." He panted as he darted across numerous traps, taking care not to step on any of them.

"We're almost to the end." He chanted as he whizzed past numerous trick doors and glided away from deadly traps. Whenever his feet hit the ground, a thump that resounded throughout the room could be heard.

Soon he fell front, still carrying me and yanked the door knob of an iron door. The door was old and rustic and didn't have much details except for the chipped walls and slight dents.

"We're out..." He panted, as he stepped through the area into a new room.

The room had concrete walls, a 1 metre long iron table and a wooden box placed on it. The wooden box was not special, it was made out of spruce wood and it was locked with it's key nowhere to be seen.

"Thanks..." I coughed up as I notice the man's perspiration drenching his shirt.

He set me down on the concrete floor before slowly fading into nothing.