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Oh God.
Something’s wrong.
Something is very, very wrong.
You are so unbelievably sure of it as the frightening darkness of the MacMillan Estate materializes around you as your weary eyes open, looking left and right.
An almost unbearable sense of dread hangs so heavily above you, you feel as if you may suffocate at any moment. Sure these trials are usually still and silent, especially in the beginning.
But you can’t help but notice that this time, the silence is… definite.
Yes, its too silent, too still, its unnerving to say the least, and by this point you are already scrambling to your feet with scraped and bloodied hands, pushing yourself out of your initially vulnerable position as quickly as possible.
You can’t help but feel so horribly alone in this place, this hell that you have visited countless times, sometimes escaping it victorious, and sometimes never getting the chance to leave at all.
The chilly air unpleasantly embraces you, accompanying you as you traverse your way slowly across the barren map and towards the faded form of a generator in the distance, far away. And once again you can’t help but take note of how alone you truly feel, as if…
Your eyes widen with new terror at the realization. As silly as it sounds, you know, somewhere you just know that you are not wrong this time, and that somehow, someway, the Entity has punished you immeasurably this time.
For it has sent you to a trial, completely and utterly alone.
As moments pass your denial of this conclusion slowly recedes, as you find no traces of any auras, no traces of tampered hooks or totems, no open chests, no broken pallets.
No horrible screams piercing the night air.
No.
You are alone.
And you are shaking, now, of course. From fear, sheer terror overwhelming you as the endless possibilities of uninterrupted torture fill your mind. With no other targets, the beast that has entered the trial with you will focus on you alone.
Only one mystery remains. The identity of said beast is still entirely unknown to you, as you realize you have not heard any telltale signs that would have revealed them. This serves to only heighten your anxiety, your hands trembling uncontrollably now, causing you to wonder how on earth you expect to successfully fix a generator with such tremors.
But it isn’t questions that have gotten you out of hopeless situations where you were sure you were dead. It was the answers, and the confidence that came with them. Overthinking wouldn’t help you right now, it would only bring you closer to the edge of panic, and the moment you slipped over would be the moment you sealed your own doom.
Taking a deep breath, you focus on the situation at hand. Perhaps it would be wiser to hide behind the barrels or the wooden walls that littered the estate, listening for a heartbeat or a bell, or maniacal laughter. Or perhaps it would be easier to just end the trial prematurely and to foolishly work on the generator, allowing the killer to find you and hopefully free you quicker from this hell.
The possibilities of agony that came with the second option were unappealing, to be sure, but you feel that you substantially lack the sheer patience and control that are required for the first. So without a second thought, you try your best to slow your racing heart, and carefully approach the generator.
At last, you reach it on unsteady feet, and kneel down before the sleeping machine. Raising your hands, you attempt to ease the trembling before reaching inside and cautiously connecting and dismantling wires. You do not let your mind wander, as one simple mistake could mean life or death.
You pause at that thought.
No. One simple mistake would mean life or death. There wasn’t exactly anywhere to run, as the hatch, an alternate means of escape that wouldn’t require all of the generators being powered, is not yet available.
Tremendously focused on the task at hand, you fail to notice the slight shimmer in the air to your left, and the only warning of the presence behind you is a quiet but menacing growl. Freezing, you abruptly stop your progress on the machine in front of you. You refuse even to breath, hoping with all of your might that the sound had come from your imagination, and not from reality.
To your dismay, another muffled snarl sounds behind you, and this time you can’t help but to let out a panicked breath.
The killer is right behind you, and in your current position, you are hopelessly trapped. The only solace you can find is your knowing it would take the cloaked killer time to manifest himself into the real world before chasing after you.
However, just before you can convince your frozen limbs to break out into a run, another thought occurs to you. So far, no hostile action has been taken by the Wraith behind you. If he had only murderous intent, he would not have approached you silently and remained cloaked once he was notified of your awareness to his presence by your frightened body language. Perhaps running would not be the smartest way out of this scenario.
Flexing your hands, you let out a sigh before very slowly moving, ready to bolt at the slightest hint of hostility. The figure behind you doesn’t move an inch as you turn your head, lifting your gaze to where you presume the eyes of the invisible killer stare intently down at you.
You can’t be sure, of course, but you imagine now that as you match the gaze of the Wraith, you are making some sort of temporary truce. You become keenly aware of another game you have entered, one akin to chess. You have made your move.
Now it is the Wraith’s turn.
You wait silently; you are careful not to make any sudden movements and break the tranquil peace that has settled upon the both of you.
You can’t help but jump when the sudden sound of the wailing bell pierces your ears, reverberating within your mind. Freezing up once more, you stare as the tall, dark figure appears before your very eyes, orange streaks of light disappearing as the Wraith fully enters the realm of visibility.
To your relief, he remains unmoving, shining orbs observing your every move. Tilting his head to the side, he lets out another growl. Another move.
Your turn.
You wonder if he is aware of it. The fact that you are the sole survivor he has been sent to hunt down. Something tells you he wouldn’t have approached you so innocuously otherwise.
But if he has not attacked you yet that could perhaps mean he has… other ideas. Ones that you may not find particularly pleasant. This sudden thought leaves you feeling horribly anxious once again, and you feel your heartbeat spike unpleasantly within your chest.
The things he may do next might leave you wishing you were dead.
The silent tilt of his head in the opposite direction reminds you that you have not yet made your move.
Your racing mind attempts to find a way to properly continue this truce. Your next move must come quickly, lest he lose patience, but it must communicate your desire to remain unharmed.
With a racing heart and a frightened mind, you resort to something that has saved your life again and again. You give in to instinct.
And apparently, your instinct has decided to make a complete fool you. Before you can comprehend your own actions, you feel your arms fly out and wrap around the tall figure before you. With him being at least twice your height, your arms only reach up to circle around his waist.
It is only after you have comprehended this unprecedented action that you feel your cheeks begin to burn with heavy embarrassment. The man that stands before you has scared you senseless more times than you can count, has carried you from hook to agonizing hook, has broken your spine and torn apart the final shreds of dignity you have managed to maintain here in this Nightmare. And in one frightening moment, you have thrown all of this out the window, and given him an honest-to-god hug.
You can feel the stiffness of his body, the honest surprise. You hear the sound of the bell and weapon falling to the ground as he releases his hold on them. With your head buried in his bandages stomach, you feel something crack inside of you. A tidal wave of emotions rushes through you at a pace far too fast for your liking, and you are unable to contain the tears that spill from your eyes and onto your cheeks.
How long has it been since you had hugged someone? Hell, how long has it been since you had the chance to obtain any pleasant physical contact? As horrible and ironic as it is, it is so satisfying to finally be able to hold someone. To cling on to something in this god-forsaken nightmare. You begin to shake silently, never having been a noisy crier, as the now unstoppable emotions crush you.
Mysteriously, the Wraith senses your distress. It is his turn. And he is determined to surprise you as well.
The overwhelming relief you feel when the monster before you kneels down and returns the embrace is shameful, and yet you cannot find the will to care as you bury your wet face within his dirty cloak, hiding it within the fabric.
You feel slender arms circle your back, pulling you closer towards him, not hard enough to crush you but enough to hold you in place. You can’t help but hold him closer as the barrage of unpleasant emotions continue, and yet again, to your surprise, he squeezes you gently back.
Some sick part of you feels that this is all part of the game, a moment to drag the prey back from the brink of insanity in order to begin the chase anew. A broken survivor cannot function and follow the Entity’s rules, and must therefore be replaced. So perhaps it is necessary that in this one moment, the Wraith is responsible for bringing you back from the edge in order to avoid the annoying venture of replacing you, and has chosen to do so by mockingly replicating the tender action of a reassuring embrace.
Yet some part of you fails to really believe this as the Wraith holds you only closer the more violent your sobbing becomes. There is something so… genuine about the way he has chosen to return the hug. As if he truly means it.
You feel weightless in his arms, completely purposeless. Here, time has lost meaning, and the world stands still as you remain trapped within the embrace. You don’t mind, of course. With no desire to fight or flee, you realize just how tired you really are. How badly you want everything to just… end. To stop.
To be free.
Whether that be permanent death or permanent escape you do not care any longer. Only that this nightmare comes to a stop. You can’t take more of this.
The pain, the humiliation.
The horrific torture, the regret, the guilt, the suffering-
A gentle hand suddenly cradles your head, and magically, your thoughts are silenced. As if the Wraith had known of your mental struggle, he took to putting an abrupt stop to it. Like a predator calming its overworked prey.
And just as suddenly, you return.
There is an aching but pleasant emptiness in your chest, and your shoulders have stopped shaking. With closed eyes, you breathe in the scent of his cloak, head still buried in his chest. He sits silently with you, the hand on your head now carefully stroking your hair.
It is a gesture that calms you considerably, and before you know it, you feel as if you are being lulled to sleep.
Here in the arms of a killer, you can’t recall the last time you have felt so safe and content. A soft growl close to your ear allows you to open your eyes once more and to regain your senses.
The time has come to get your bearings straight.
With a deep breath, you relax, and is if on queue, the Wraith releases his hold on you, sitting back to look over your face. You are sure that it is not a pretty sight, most obviously stained in tears and dirt, and yet this does not bother you in the slightest.
Glancing up, you allow the smallest hints of a smile to adorn your face. It might be your imagination, but you think you see something along the same lines ghost his face in return. At that, he is standing once more, but this time, offers an empty hand in your direction.
Glancing down, you observe it for a moment before carefully taking it, allowing the killer to lead you to the generator only a few feet away.
Something tells you that pain and suffering isn’t something you’ll feel in this initially hopeless seeming trial, and the glint in his eye as he turns to look at you does nothing but make you feel more certain of it.