The dark, shadowy, and empty corridor looms in front of you. Fear begins to fill your mind. A small knife that seems to be screaming at you blocking your path. You pick up the small knife and caress it in your hand. You see your reflection in the blade, your broken, corrupted reflection. Tears run down your cheeks as you bring the knife to your hand and drag the blade along, breaking skin without pain as fine droplets of blood stain the knife. You drop the blade when you see your reflection once more. You can't stand the broken sight.
You race down the corridor as fast as your feet can take you. Your blood pulsing, your mind racing, your breath getting sharper. Your foot gets caught and you stumble to the ground, buckling your knees to your chest as the ground tentacles consume you. You fall for what seems to be hours before you hit ground. You can't move, you can't feel anything, no one is there, no one will save you.
It's just black, droplets of blood emptily dripping from the small cut from earlier, the only colour in your life is the stain of your mistakes.
