It Will Always Be A Game

16: Stygian

Your torment is my eternal pleasure

The rough, unyielding hand nearly crushes my face, pressing hard against my mouth. My hands claw at it, desperation fuelling my struggle. My head trashes uncontrollably, trying to break free. My nails dig violently into the flesh as my muffled screams vibrate against the palm. A guttural roar erupts behind me, filling the tiny, dark room. The hand recoils. Seizing the moment, I bolt toward the door, but a forceful yank pulls me back, dragging me into the abyss.
My body slams forcefully into the wall, the rough switches and cables digging into my back. Darkness swallows my sight. A massive hand closes around my throat, knocking the breath from my lungs. Panic surges through me. The hand tightens relentlessly, its crushing grip blurring my vision. My breath comes in ragged, desperate gasps. I claw at the hand, my nails dig against the rough skin, but the grip remains strong. Black spots dance before my eyes. My lungs burn with the desperate need for air. My pulse thunders in my ears, drowning out everything else. The world narrows to the agonising pressure around my throat. Darkness creeps in from the edges of my sight, spreading like a shroud. The room spins uncontrollably as my legs grow weaker and weaker, buckling beneath me as my strength fades.

No...

No.

Not over so soon.

„Ein Leben für uns beide."

Her last words gnaw into my head.

No, I made a vow.

Desperation claws at my chest as my trembling hands struggle to focus. I close my eyes, summoning every last ounce of energy I have left. My entire body burns with effort, and my hands grow weaker by the second. Every fibre in my body is strained, desperate to hold on. My hand successfully finds its way into my pocket. With the last bit of strength I can muster, I click the switch.

My hand flails wildly, swinging into flesh. The pressure around my neck releases abruptly. A piercing scream fills my ears. My vision is clouded.

I collapse to the floor.

Gasping for precious air, I clutch my throat, drawing in ragged breaths. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. My eyes strain to see through the enveloping darkness. I hear frantic footsteps scrambling to get away.

No no no no no no no no no no.

I scream, but my throat feels as if it's been crushed. Instead, a strangled gasp escapes my lips when I try to move my neck. Adrenaline surges through me, fuelling my frantic movements. My trembling hand searches for the pocketknife on the floor. I grasp the cold metal, its surface slick with warm liquid.
Using both hands, I push myself off the ground, my breaths coming in wild, uneven bursts.

In the darkness, the narrow corridor stretches out—the only way.

Summoning every last bit of strength left in my legs, I stagger, driven by a desire to find the one who tried to take me down.

I run like never before. The crash of a heavy rack hitting the floor echoes throughout the hallway. My head snaps to the right, the pain excruciating, tears blurring my vision. Sound is my only guide. My boots thud against the ground, echoing my frantic pace. I chase the sound of footsteps ahead of me, turning right and left. I can't scream—my throat feels like it's been crushed by an unimaginable force.

My body taps into its last reserves of strength. A raw scream tears from my throat. I keep running, blind to everything around me. All I see is the dark. My entire body is trembling with rage and agony and misery. I can't see where I'm going, but I don't stop. My breath is knocked out of my lungs as I collide into something. White spots explode in my blurred vision.