Friendship Lasts Forever

Spoilers for 'Book of Shadows'; Chapter 4 「Purgatory」 ahead. You have been warned.  Declamier, I do not own Corpse Party or any of the characters. 

She paced down the dark, muddy corridors as the sound of a hard, heavy object being dragged across the dirt haunted her thoughts. The only thing she could hear was the loud clinging of steel being dragged, and bodies being throw to the ground with tremendous force. She couldn't walk any longer. Her knees gave way beneath her. She collapse to the ground in a heap as dirt and dust filled the air. She coughed as she brushed away the dirt on her matted skirt.

There was no way she could get up, not in the condition she was in. She pushed herself against the nearest mud slicked wall. The tightly packed mud stuck easily to her beat uniform. She basically clung to the wall, scared for someone to find her. Hurt her. But it wouldn't really matter. She was already dead.

xxx

She awoke from her unconscious dreaming to the pitch black room with a horrid smell to it. She rubbed the side of her head, looking around the room. Scattered things from spare futons to sharp objects that decorated the ground was what eye sight was able to see. Dim light shimmered through beneath the large door, giving in the tiniest of light. She followed the beaming streak, avoiding any sharp object. Her feet dragged her to the large, wooden door. She placed her hands on the splintery wood, feeling for the exact place to pull.

"Ah!"

She pulled on the rough handle, letting in the still light. She cautiously headed out of the storage room and into the damp corridors. The air was musky, cold and held an awful odor of rotting meat from a distance. She gazed around the halls as she paced on. Creaking from above filled the eerie halls along with faint sounds of flickering lights. She pulled out her phone from her skirt pocket, glimpsing at the time. "T-that can't be right," she stuttered. "This time reads 25:45." She slid her phone back into her pocket, shrugging off the situation and began foreword once again.

She approached large structured, wooden doors, covered in dried blood, concealing a rancid aroma. She gripped the handles, and pulled with effortless strength. With a wave of horrid, nauseating odors, the doors swung open. She cautiously walked into the darkened room, gagging at the growth of aromas. She headed foreword, grazing buckets, and other objects with her exposed skin. She stopped in her tracks as the tingles in her thigh shot up. "I haven't realized how itchy my thigh was until now," she mumbled, reaching down to scratch her irritating thigh.

She brought her fingers to her face, examining the slimy, cold solid in her fingers. She rolled the object around in her fingers. The soft texture triggered her gag reflexes as she continued. "I-is this...skin," she choked as she brought the item closer to her eyes. "Is..this my skin," she questioned herself, anxiously rubbing her thighs. "Unngh!"

Small pieces of skin covered her thighs and knees. She screeched in horror, brushing her legs vigorously as the tiny pieces began to fall off. Her shaken scream echoed through the room as she fell back, hitting the rough dirt wall. The lights flickered on, filling the room with glistening light. Buckets and buckets of a dark, syrupy like substance filled to the top decorated the room. Dried blood drenched the floors, and walls, giving off the rancid, rotting meat stench. Tools from axes, to small sewing scissors laid on one lone blood soaked, decrepitude table In the far corner of the filthy room laid a disorderly cabinet, trenched in dried blood from the hinges to the handles. But the masterpiece of the room was the bloody table in the center on the room. Bloody straps for holding something or someone down covered the four corners of the table. Small beads of blood dripped off the wooden table as if something had just been murdered there.

She covered her mouth, screaming into her hands as tears soaked her eyes. This must be a slaughter house. Yeah, nothing more than a slaughter house, she thought as her thoughts began to wander. She uncovered her mouth, wiping away the tears rolling down her soft cheeks. She stumbled foreword, looking into a decomposing bucket. She gazed into the bucked in horror. It was loitered with maggots and blood soaked hands of unfortunate victims. Hands from large innocent high school subjects to small junior high children hands. She backed away until her back hit the wall. Her yelps filled the room as footsteps approached the room. She covered her mouth, and shook herself out of her daze. I-I need someplace to hide! But where? She examined the room, quaking in fear while stumbling foreword. Ah! The cabinet! Perfect!