Post The Book

Y/N

Y/N's house
Sunday, 15th September (2:45am)

I look down at the journal in my hands - my hand smudged with ink. My eyes are so heavy I can barely keep them open and I wonder if what I've written is even legible.

I'd tried to write in Bill's book itself - but the ink just wouldn't come off on the page, at all.

I'd read through, looked at the little doodles of himself - which I wonder if he'd drawn, and read the few recovered words. Including his chant, which I translated from Latin.

But now the blinding light from the lamp is hurting my eyes even more than they already do, luring me to shut it off and pass out.

With a sigh I shut both books - Bill's, and my journal. I hastily push them onto my nightstand. It must be incredibly late. This is my last sleep-in day, and I don't even get to sleep. I'm going to regret this, I know it.

With a click, my lamp is turned off and my room is submerged into the abyss of darkness, before I feel sleep take me away.

Grey walls stand on either side of me, and expand far ahead. The air is deathly cold reminding me of a dead winter, and the sky is a depressing grey - a sense of impending doom blooms in my chest. I look behind me, another continued expanse of high stone walls riding off far into the distance behind me, into a blurry fog.
Facing forward I advance towards a wall, running my fingers along the stone as I walk, it's cold and somewhat rough against my fingers - it feels real. Very real.
I come to a turn, a choice to go left or right, and dead in front of me is an etched symbol which I think I recognize. I turn to look left. I turn to look right. Both ways look the same. What does my gut tell me? I gotta get out of here.

I turn right, walking down - is it me, or is the way getting narrower? I turn back to go the other way - but that is no longer an option. Behind me is a tall, brooding wall, towering over me. For a moment the air seems thicker as I turn back and begin to walk forward, feeling slightly claustrophobic as I go.

Eyes on me. I feel gazes bore into me.

I shiver and look up at the sky as I walk, between the grey-ish clouds, an eye opens and gazes down at me. I feel my heart pound against my ribcage before shifting my gaze and advancing further forward - more turns. Literally more. One ahead, one left, one right. Each corner, each wall has a different symbol. What do these mean? I don't know what these mean.

I take a guess as my breath becomes heavier with the pressure of the atmosphere, which presses itself to the sides of my lungs, my alveoli feeling like they're swelling. I continue straight ahead with the burning in my chest - as if the air is made of fibre glass - and it seems the walls keep closing in. The more that I walk, I realize I feel them begin graze against my shoulders. But I can't panic. Breathing feels as easy as running in water. Useless. My brain is alight with panic as I feel my pulse double, I turn back again, but all I see is another massive wall barring any exit I have. It moves closer. It moves closer?! My lungs become heavy in my chest as I begin to supress heaving coughs, quickly making my way forward into the narrow alley, my only option. Is this going to crush me? Am I going to die?

I feel myself shake as I squeeze myself side-ways, the walls now practically hugging me in a stone grip. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I feel myself become lodged between the passageway. I'm going to die. My lungs feel swollen and my throat is closing up as I struggle to move. I'm going to die. I can't breathe. I'm going to die. I look up as much as I can, bearing the gaze of the merciless eye, begging it silently as I push sideways just a little more, praying to get to an exit.

I move sideways, my skin burning, and suddenly am hit with a freedom. A foolish one. I can't even gasp. I look to see that I'd found an exit. An exit to a box of eyes. A room with no entries nor exits. Eyes.