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The black hooded child weakly opened his eyes. All he could see was a bland, wooden ceiling that covered his view. He thought to himself, feeling around the area as his eyes adjusted to the darkened room.
‘Let's see here… It’s not terribly hot in here and there’s a noticeable lack of spiderwebs that normally lace the walls. If I had to make my best guess, I’m probably in the basement. A nice change of pace, I was tired of that damn overheated oven of a floor anyhow’.
The boy grumbled to himself, his being still in the process of fully waking up. Racking his memories, he attempted to remember what exactly ended his last run. Of course he wouldn’t fully remember everything, he never did. Nobody ever did. It was one of the many rules that governed the pit they all flailed about in. Even so, he could remember the events before his death, and that was all he needed to paint the rest of the picture.
He continued to rest on the ground thinking back to what had happened. Unkempt dark brown hair rustled with the ground underneath with the shifting of his body, trying his best to get comfortable. Wasn’t he with someone last time? No one was here with him now. He was alone again like he had been many times before. But that last run, there was definitely a second person that time around. Who was it again? It was someone he didn’t like. A strong visceral hate bubbled in his stomach thinking about it. For a moment he wondered why he would even have such a strong reaction towards the mere thought of them. Sure he didn’t like anyone down here, but none of them were that bad.
Bethany.
It was that good for nothing Bethany he was traveling with. That cleared up any questions. Such an annoying, prissy, ‘holier than thou’ girl. All these new kids were annoying, not one of them enjoyable to be around. Bethany just happened to be the cream of the crop in terms of awfulness. He wouldn’t even be surprised if he had purposely let himself get killed to avoid spending any time in her presence. At least he was away from her now.
He has had enough of laying around doing nothing, it was time to start his next run. Calloused hands pushed the young boy off the ground. A couple stretches followed by a loud yawn got him as ready as he needed to to wander into the nearest room.
The run wasn’t exactly the strongest one he’s had. He has made a good few mistakes on the early floors so he didn’t even get the chance for any devil deals. Of course when one did show up it was some garbage full of nothing but useless red chests. The rest of the items ranged from mediocre to downright unusable. All he really had was ol’ reliable, The Book of Belial. The one item he always had and never let him down. Though that alone wasn’t enough to carry him through the later floors. Five floors down and nothing of note has shown themselves.
This floor’s treasure room was already a bust, there was no way he was taking Rosary and risking replacing a potentially good item with the Bible. If he didn’t get anything good soon all this effort he spent would have been for naught and he was way too pissed off to accept such a defeat now. He looked through the small makeshift matchbook he had and sorted through the pocket-sized bombs. Only around 4 of them, but he had a sneaking suspicion he knew where the secret room was. If he was lucky enough he could even find something of use. Given his current luck it was unlikely, but it was better than nothing.
He shifted around empty halls, occasionally placing his ear up against one of the walls and silently listening. If you had good enough ears you could hear small chatter from the creatures inside the walls, indicating that particular wall was thin and prime for entry. After a bit of looking about and a misplaced bomb he finally found the area where the room was. The jittering of bugs could be heard from inside as they scampered around for food scraps. Perfect. With the third of his last bombs in hand, he pressed the small button on top where the fuse was and the bomb rapidly expanded. Now it was roughly the size of his head and could really do some damage. The bomb was placed on the ground right up against the wall, lighting the fuse with the match attached to his matchbook. Immediately he runs back to take cover, holding his arms over his head and ears before the bomb goes off with a loud bang.
The wall crumbled into pieces, spiders and flies scurrying away from the source of the noise. Any bug that got to close got a good stomping, no way he was taking any risks with these little pests. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he walked in and was shocked to see an item laying in the middle of the room. At first he was excited at the revolution, until he took a closer look at and realized he didn’t actually know what the item even was.
A rocky pedestal held a off-white and baby blue sheet of paper. He walked further into the room, observing the object in curiosity. This is the first time he had seen anything like, whatever this was supposed to be. Circling around it brought no helpful information on what the item could be used for. It was as basic as something could get. A sturdy piece of paper propped up by a short stool. The paper was pretty wordy and neatly written. Must have been important, given the formal formatting and state seal that showed proud on the bottom left corner.
He took the paper from its pedestal, observing every angle. Still nothing interesting to get excited over. Was it yet another useless item? It better not have been, he was getting really upset at all the worthless junk he had been getting. Placing the paper back down onto its original place, he stared at it for a moment. Given he was actually able to put down the thing and it didn’t stick to his body like a parasite, it must have been an active item. He wasn’t willing to give up his book, especially not for some random item he had only now seen for the first time. Very few items were good enough to give up his book for in replacement. But it was new, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious as to what it did. Well one use of it wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like he had a good run worth saving.
Placing his book down for a brief moment, he picked back up the paper and started to read its contents. That’s how most items of this type were used.
The top of the page stated the sheet was from some group called “Department of State Health”. He had never heard of such a place before. Must have been some government team, sure did sound like it. Begrudgingly he continued to read on, his eye catching his name in one of the many neatly organized boxes.
A nervous bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face, his voice reaching a stutter, “Name of.. d-deceased?”
Judas Iscariot Tchacos. That was his name alright, there was no mistaking it. Fully written out above a declaration of death.
“This couldn’t be right… I’m still here. Right here living and breathing.”
He hastily skimmed through the document, trying to find any kind of proof this was a scam of some kind. The day of his birth, his ethnicity, the town he lived in, his age, none of it was off the mark. And the day of death…
He tightened his grip, ready to tear the very paper he held apart, “No no, it’s wrong it’s all wrong! I can’t be dead, I couldn’t be! The dead don’t have feelings, the dead don’t have thoughts!”
The day of death was the very same day he had run away from home. The day he saw as free and liberating from the constrictive hell full of people who hated him. The day he woke up in an unknown basement confused and scared for his life.
Tears welled up in his eyes, slowly pouring down his face no matter how hard he tried to stay strong, “My blood still pumps through me. I see it all the time. My very way of life is powered by the blood that runs through my veins. The dead can’t bleed. I’ve seen it all before. The damn hellhole I’m stuck in proves to me I must be living!”
His head swelled, a massive migraine growing from the back of head taking its time to extend to the rest of his mind. The paper in front of him soon became too blurry to read, barely being able to see anything but vague shapes of color. Of what little he could see, there was one more thing that could be made out of the confusion that took him over.
Disease or condition directly leading to death: Asphyxiation due to the constriction of the ribs and lungs followed by a rush of blood to the head due to entrapment in a tight, enclosed space while upside down
A bright light filled Judas’s vision, his body seizing up before being knocked out cold.
Judas wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting to wake up to. He was ready to not wake up at all. But here he was, up and at them again like every other time he had died in this infernal place. Other than an uncharacteristic darkness, nothing was in immediate notice that was out of the ordinary. Out of habit he felt around the place he was at before attempting to get up again. He had thought that maybe he had simply lost his run again and had to restart, one of those stupid items that killed you in return for “benefits”.
His hands touched something damp and, wooden? No, that couldn’t be right. The only floors that have any water flow were caves and swear-like areas. The new sensation got a quick rise out of Judas, who hastily got up to get a better look at where he was. It was, a closet. Or what appeared to be a closet. Judas knew better than to trust his eyes. There was some sinister laying in wait. He looked around at his surroundings again. Okay, maybe not in this tiny cramped room he currently was in. The only thing that was in here was clothes and a door that laid at the end of the room.
That was the trick. Right outside that door must be the danger he had assumed would be there to begin with. A room of monsters, maybe even one of the few monsters that had the honor of being called a boss. Once the challenge was defeated he’d get his prize and he'd continue as normal. That was for sure what would happen. It’s what always happens. This living trap may be cruel, but it was predictable. He hesitated moving on to the next room, wanting some clue as to what he was going to be getting into. That endeavor was a fruitless one. It really was just a closet. Lots of clothes thrown about, a few scattered toys. A few toys he distinctly remembers. These were all his old things. Toys he used to play with when the kids at school refused to be involved with him. He took closer examination of the clothes that littered the floor and that were hung on the rack. These were his clothes. All his old shirts his parents hated and the ones Judas himself had torn up in rebellion. Each and every object in here, completely lacking any texture for his hands to latch onto. His own mind was barely able to even register anything he held other than the physical shape it took.
That door behind him, the one he had before assumed would lead to a room of monsters, it really was just a door. No comically large keyhole or broken frame. A normal sliding door like most closets had. He placed his hand on the door, feeling nothing but the faint sensation of wood. The sliding door was moved barely out of its position. No blood sacrifice was needed to open it, the last test of proof. Was this something he really wanted to do? Leave the room he was in and face whatever was outside? It was obvious this wasn’t a regular basement floor he was on, if he was on one. He swallowed the excess saliva that was building in his mouth. It wasn’t like he had a choice. This was the only way he was going to leave. Shakily, he built up all his courage and flung the door open. His stance went aggressive, ready to be charged by a horde.
Panic briefly took over when he went for his book that wasn’t with him, which upon looking at the thing he was defending against, a completely different fear took over. He had found himself in his old room. His body stiffened. No, this wasn’t right. First he ended up in his closet and now his room? He wasn’t supposed to be here. For crying out loud, the reason he ever ended up in this situation was because he didn’t want to end up back here. It was an old, run down mess. Judas never claimed to be a clean kid, but this was a whole new level. Bedsheets were eaten up by bugs, the carpets covered in various unknown stains, floorboards were creaking with each step, it was like this place had been sitting around and rotting for years. There were items scattered everywhere in his room too. Items he had gotten used to seeing on a daily basis. Many of the items here he avoided for personal reasons, things that had taken form from the basement’s tendency to take your life’s worst attributes and give them a physical presence. This room made him uncomfortable. Unbearably so.
Old painful memories reared their heads out from the part of him that did everything to hide from it. All of the times he was shunned, laughed at, and ignored. There was another basic house door at the end of his room. He rushed over and forced himself to leave into the next area. The memories didn’t fade, but they held less potency. Another migraine was starting to take hold. He held the back of his head in discomfort. Thankfully it was a rather small one, something he could easily ignore.
He ended up in a hallway, if he remembered correctly if he kept on moving upwards he would end up in his living room. There should be a couch in there and he can take a nice long rest. Get a good mental refresh before starting again. Better that than staying in his rather unsettling bedroom. The hallway was filled with items just like his own room, though with items that were much less personal to him. The hallway had plenty of doors that lead to different parts of his house, but the only door he was interested in was the archway that led to his desired location. His parents room was right next to his own, only a few rooms down. He peeked inside, mostly so he could confirm nothing else had changed. His memory was right, other than the extra numerous items that laid about the floor. The room’s condition wasn’t any better than his. Disheveled and rotting from years of neglect.
He left the room without a second thought. There was no interest in looking through his parents' things. Couldn’t care less about what they were hiding. What he wanted was to confirm everything was still the same. Everything was still familiar. He knew all the items, all the rooms, the layout. He could figure out what to do given previous knowledge. The archway that led to the living room didn’t want to make life easy for Judas. Much to his dismay, it wasn’t the living room he was hoping to find. Instead he was in another hallway.
‘What a bunch of bullshit’, his inner thoughts angrily remarked. Right after he had convinced himself he knew what he was doing. The living room was stretched out farther away. It was the same hallway as the one he was in. Same layout, different items. He peered into the location where his parents room normally would be, and lo and behold, it’s the same exact room filled with an assortment of different items. Even the very objects he had been used to seeing all this time we’re starting to grow unfamiliar.
Walking into the room replica, he did a bit of personal investigation. His parents room wasn’t something he was well acquainted with, but he knew it well enough to tell if anything was particularly off. Each floorboard creaked with the slightest change in pressure. He had to sidestep the many items that littered the floor to make it to his parents bed. Holding up one of the bedsheets that sloppily laid off the side of the bed, he tried to feel the cloth. His hands still felt barren. It was as though he was grabbing onto air. A sensation exclusively for his eyes. The faded color gives a dreary feeling to what was meant to be a comforting place.
Glancing over to the left of the bed was a small brown bag full of marbles on the usual stone pedestal. It was only one of the many items that rested around the rooms. He hadn’t given them much thought before, but maybe he could try and grab one. There was no reason not to try, they were absolutely everywhere.
He reached out to it, with a bit more hesitation than usual. His headache was growing in intensity, the world spinning around, his vision growing brighter with white light. Stronger and brighter, more painful, the closer he got the heavier the pain got. Before a finger could even scrape the outside bag he violently retracted his hand. Falling back onto the ground, panting for the air he didn’t know he needed so badly. The migraine went back to a light shimmer. He put ‘avoid touching items’ on his mental list of things to not to do while in here.
He sighed and left the room, he may have learned something but he was still as lost as he was before. With no other options, he continued to the next archway. This time he actually ended up in the living room. While traveling around the scattered items was still a pain, he saw the loving embrace of the couch mere steps away. Tiptoeing around the last of the few items he jumped into the couch with all the vigor he had in him. The expectation of a soft, fluffy couch was met with emptiness. A disappointment, but not a surprise.
He snuggled up into the comforters, twisting around to face the tv. It was off and chances are this abandoned maze didn’t have any electricity. Turning back around he face planted into the pillows. His eyes shut, hoping to get some sleep and wake up with a clearer mind, with some luck he’ll wake up somewhere else entirely. One of the pillows was pulled off the end of the couch so he could hug it tight to his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept, the thought of it was a dreamy enough to put him to sleep on its own. Until his stomach started to rumble, forcing him to stay awake. Damn it, more time must have passed than he thought.
Without much of a choice, he propped himself up and off the couch. There was rarely any food down in the basement, which meant if you don’t keep moving through your hunger all you’ll do is die a slow, painful death rather than a quick one from the jaws of a monster. Even with the memory loss, most preferred to not suffer in the moment. He had to find an exit now, he has heard starvation is one of the more extricating ways to go.
God why in the world was he starving? He hadn’t felt a sting of hunger before now, but out of nowhere his stomach was screaming at him to eat something. The room, despite all the items within it, didn’t have a single food item. What are the chances, the one time he would enjoy seeing it? He gripped his stomach, staggering his way into the next room. The living room had multiple different doors to choose from, one of them had to have something he could eat.
He busted through the closest door, desperately searching for something to eat. His hunger was starting to subside but strong enough to keep him moving. Eventually his eyes laid on a slab of rotten meat. A sickly green color that was all but appetizing. Must have been enough to snap him out of his trance as his hunger had all but left him by the time he found it. Judas was grateful for it, he was about to consider actually eating such repulsive meat. It’s not like he hasn’t before, but sometimes when you're in a bad mood you want something better than literal rotten food. Given that this place must be bigger than how he remembers it, surely there was something more satisfying around here.
He looked around for the next door to take, wondering if he should either go back around or continue on the other direction. Suppose it doesn’t matter either way, there didn't seem to be any real danger other than the random burst of hunger and, and…
Judas rubbed the base of his neck, something was on it. There was no real feeling to it other than the pressure that claimed something there. It wasn’t tight, but it kept a firm grip. He wanted it off of him, no fucking way was feeling an invisible force wrap around your neck a good sign. The force was getting stronger, making its way up to the base of the head right where his neck ended. He rushed as fast as he could out to whatever door he could make it to. A string of energy and primal instincts took control of his body until the force tightened around his neck trapping the air around him from getting to his lungs. He pulled and pulled at his neck but there was nothing there to grab. Wheezing filled the silent rooms with ungodly noise. He couldn’t accept his death here. Not like this, not given what’s happened. What if he really did die here? If he died here, would he?
Sprawled by the doorway back out into the living room, he trudged his body as best he could. He had no idea where he was going, no plans no-
As soon as the end of his foot left the previous room all of the air that missed his lungs returned to him. Taking in so much at once he started coughing his heart out. While trying to get his stability back, the hunger struck him again, with even more ferocity than the last. Double down back onto the floor, he forced himself to move again to the next room.
The next nearest hallway was barged into, followed by Judas coughing up blood all over his hoodie. He had to keep moving. Whatever in the name of hell was going on here wasn’t going to be stopped. There had to be an exit here, somewhere.
Blood filled his mouth continuously as he spitting buckets of it out to avoid choking on it. He ran into the next room, the splintering pain of broken bones up his left leg and head took over. Another room, now a wave of unimaginable pain ripped through his chest and side as though his very insides were pulled out. Yet another room, a cigarette burn on the back of his head and the agonizing heat of fire burning every little inch of him.
This was too much. Too much for him to handle. Too much for anyone to handle. He wanted out. He wanted out so badly. To be with someone, to tell him everything was okay. That it was all just a terrible dream. The caring embrace of his mother brushing out his hair after the shower he was so adamant on not taking. Any one of the good for nothings that wanders these pits like he did. Bethany would have been better company than being left alone here for another second.
Barely able to keep himself standing, he looked up at the item on the pedestal right in front of him. A big, blue head with X’s over its eyes.
“Fate, good enough” Judas muttered, before forcefully grabbing the item and pulling it as close to him as possible. The world was shaking and spinning, all he could see was a bright white light. He could feel two wings sprout out of his back before he was knocked out cold yet again.
He woke up in a cold sweat. His eyes were peeled wide open as he stared at the rocky cave walls above.
He looked around, his hands feeling the ground underneath. It was rocky and rough. Not only that but he could fully feel it. That fuzziness was gone. His favorite book laid right beside him where he left it, right where that cursed piece of paper was. His hands where empty, the item must of disappeared upon use. Everything was familiar again. Nothing had changed from where he left it. The only noticeable difference was the new pair of wings he now had behind him. That was all he got out of such a miserable experience?
He sighed and slumped on the pedestal that held his book. Sitting for a moment, he took the book back and hugged it to himself before resting his head and closing his eyes for a quick rest.