The Limbus

Ch. 6- Free, But Can't Escape

As I enter back into the underground, my soul seems brighter than what it was last time. Maybe it's just my eyes haven't adjusted from the from the outside to the more intense light. There wasn't really much time to think, I just need to act fast. I walk up to the chains, and take a look around, seeing if a link appears slightly open or thinner than others. As I circle around, up near the top I notice a single link that's dented and bent slightly out of shape. It's shaking too. I don't know if it's a trap from Death or if it's actually just a part that he can't control. Yet, he owns it so I don't know why that one would be so different. I don't even know how I would get up to it. I was able to go inside my soul before, maybe I can swim inside of it and get to the top. Am I even going to be able to breath in there? Well, nothing a quick test can't solve. I take my hand and grab the chain, but let go quickly just as the cold burns my hands. I take a few rags and wrap them around the chain. As I grab the rags I see that they're slightly cold but easily tolerable. With a grip to easily pull myself out, I lean back, take a deep breath and plunge my head directly into the soul.

I open my eyes, and it's completely clear inside. No colors waving around, but there is something else in here. The living room in my house. As I open my mouth I don't feel anything flow inside of it. I take a small breath and realize I can actually breath in here. I look behind me and see I happen to be coming in through the window. I wonder if that's coincidence, or that's just the marked entrance. I let go of the rags on the chains and crawl in. It's an almost exact replica too, down to the last stain on the carpet. I walk around, inspecting everything. There's no corridors that lead to the kitchen or lounge room like it should, but just 4 walls with the single window, further proving me of the entrance theory.

"Why is this here?" I say, thinking out loud. I go over to the couch, and press my hand against it. It's cold, but solid. I go to the lamp, and it's cold too. I guess everything in here is, seeing as my soul itself is. Maybe it's just the binds that make it so cold, like when Death put his grip on me I lost all heat like it was winter. I go over the wall and press up against it. It's solid, but warmer than other parts of the room. Perhaps warmth is on the other side, the side that's free. Death sure does love his analogies now that I think of it. A thought comes to my mind. I take the hammer out of my back pocket, and hit the wall. I double over from a pain in my stomach the second I collide. The hammer falls out of my hands, and I fall to the ground, moaning in pain. After a few minutes of calming down, I get back up. I take the hammer and hit my own arm. No pain. Again I hit myself, yet this time in the same spot my gut was in pain. I can feel my gut sink in, but no pain at all. I look at the wall and see that not even the paint was scratched. I decide not to do that again, or I might not be able to recover from another blow like that.

After a few minutes of inspecting the room, I didn't find anything important or possibly useful to get the lock off. I go to the window and crawl out, my head first to leave the soul-room. As I look around, nothing seemed changed. The same link is still twitching, and I remember why I went in there in the first place, too see if I can crawl up to that. I get distracted way too easily. I poke my head back in and look at the ceiling. There's a duct that I might be able to crawl through that I never noticed before. I grab the couch and move it under the vent. Next, the coffee table and stack them on top of each other to reach. Being just tall enough, I grab the side of the vent and somehow manage to pull myself up enough to crawl out.

My head pops out of the soul, at the very top of it. The link is only a few feet away, and could reach it with the hammer. I crawl out a bit more and balance myself better. With a few more rags in my pocket, I wrap the link, still jittering. I pull on it, and even with me grabbing it it's still moving. It even seems to get more sporadic the longer I hold on. I let go, and the rag falls off into the soul. I reach my hand around to where it fell, but I don't feel it anywhere. It must have fallen to the ground out of the vent. I take out the hammer I put back in my back pocket and lift up my arms to get ready for a swing. I hit the link, and my arm stings massively, like someone took a fork that harnessed the power of a lightning bolt and stabbed me with it while injecting voltage into my arm and just held it there. I almost drop the hammer, but the flinch caused me to tighten my grip too, saving it from falling. The chain looks affected from it, the shaking more noticeable like when I held it. Why does it hurt when I do this, but pain is nothing in the Limbus. So why then? Why now! Then, something mortifying comes to my mind, opening my eyes to how horrid this world is and the meaning holds.