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The clang of the fifth door shutting was like a gunshot in the silence, reverberating through the blood-stained air. Your hands trembled as you gripped the crude weapon tighter, your gaze fixed on the figure slumped in front of you. Mr. Scarletella’s body flickered and glitched, his ghostly silhouette marred by static, blood pooling at his feet.
His crimson coat hung in tatters, barely clinging to his broad shoulders. His head lolled forward, crimson eyes dim but still burning faintly with life, or whatever twisted version of it he had left.
Behind you, Cosmic Lady chuckled, her voice wrapping around “Oh, look at him..” she cooed, her words dripping with faux sympathy.
“He barely even looks like a threat anymore. You’re doing so well, my dear. Just five more doors to go, and then you’re free.”
Free. That word rang in your mind like a cruel joke. You tightened your grip, ignoring the ache in your arm and the sting of guilt gnawing at your chest. The blood splattered across your clothes wasn’t yours, it was his.
Mr. Scarletella hadn’t fought back once. Not when you drove the jagged blade into his side, not when you struck him again and again to open the last door. He just stood there, taking it all, his silence heavy and oppressive.
You knew why. Cosmic Lady had explained it from the start. He was the one who dragged you into this hell. He was the reason you were trapped in the spirit world, forced to fight and suffer for every step closer to freedom. He was the monster in the red coat.
But was he?
Cosmic Lady’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Don’t hesitate now, sweet one. Remember who’s really on your side here.” Her tone was warm, affectionate. It made your skin crawl.
She stepped closer, her ethereal form radiating light that felt more like a spotlight than a comfort. “We’ve come so far together, haven’t we? Just think, five more doors, and you’ll finally be free. I’ll make sure of it.”
You nodded numbly, stepping toward the sixth door. As it creaked open, the dim room revealed yet another horrifying setup. Mr. Scarletella was bound to a jagged metal pillar, chains coiled tightly around his arms and legs. His head hung low, and his broad chest rose and fell unevenly.
He didn’t look up as you entered, but his presence was suffocating. He wasn’t pleading, wasn’t fighting, he simply existed, waiting for the inevitable..
Cosmic Lady’s smile widened. “See? He knows what’s coming. He’s the monster, after all. He deserves it.”
You swallowed hard, stepping closer. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you raised the weapon again. The thought of hurting him churned your stomach, but you reminded yourself of the deal.
Every time you hurt him, a door opened. Ten doors to escape. Ten acts of cruelty you never thought yourself capable of.
You hesitated. The weapon shook in your grasp.
“What’s wrong?” Cosmic Lady’s voice dripped with concern. “Don’t let him manipulate you. He’s a danger to you, to me, to everyone.”
You nodded, steeling yourself. One strike. Another. The weapon met his flesh with sickening force, and the room filled with the sound of chains rattling and blood splattering.
The door glowed faintly, its patterns shifting to signal your progress. Five doors down. Five more to go.
Cosmic Lady clapped her hands in delight. “Wonderful! See? You’re stronger than he ever gave you credit for.”
You glanced back at her, her radiant smile sending a shiver down your spine. She felt so familiar, so comforting. She was your childhood friend, your guide through this nightmare. She wouldn’t lie to you.. would she?
You turned back to Mr. Scarletella. His body twitched and glitched, blood pooling at his feet. His silence pierced deeper than any scream could, and as you prepared for the next round of torment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this was terribly wrong.
The sixth door slammed shut behind you, the echo ricocheting through your skull. You stumbled forward, gasping for air, the weight of the weapon in your hand feeling heavier with each step. The glowing symbol of the next door seemed to taunt you, reminding you that you were only halfway there. Only, HALFWAY there.
But halfway to what?
Your chest tightened as unease curled in the pit of your stomach. Cosmic Lady’s voice floated through the room like honey, soothing and reassuring. “You’re doing so well. Just four more to go, sweet one. Think about it.. freedom. A life without him. You deserve this..”
Her words should’ve been comforting. But they weren’t.
Your gaze drifted to your reflection in a cracked, grime-streaked mirror hanging on the wall. You barely recognized the person staring back at you. Hollow eyes. Shaking hands. Blood smeared across your face like war paint.
Who were you?
The question sent a sharp pang through your chest, and your knees buckled. You clutched at the wall for support, your mind swirling with fragments of thoughts you couldn’t piece together. Something was wrong. Something had always been wrong, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.
Cosmic Lady’s light enveloped you as she crouched beside you, her gentle hand brushing your shoulder. “Oh, poor thing… This has been so hard on you, hasn’t it?” Her tone was a blend of pity and warmth.
You nodded, unable to speak, the words caught in your throat.
“But you’ve come so far,” she continued, her fingers tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. “Don’t let doubt creep in now. You’re almost free.”
Free. That word again. It tasted bitter.
Your gaze flicked to Mr. Scarletella, slumped against the far wall, barely holding himself upright. His crimson coat was gone, leaving him exposed in that ridiculous crop top and thong. But his body, scarred, bloodied, and glitching, still radiated power.
His silence felt like a scream.
Why wasn’t he fighting back? Why wasn’t he pleading for mercy, for his life? His eyes, dim but steady, locked onto yours for a moment, and something flickered inside you.
A memory?
No, it couldn’t be. Cosmic Lady’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts. “Don’t look at him. He’s nothing but a trickster, a liar. He’s the reason you’re here, remember?”
But did you remember?
The image of her radiant smile twisted in your mind. She was your childhood friend, wasn’t she? The one who stood by your side through everything. The one who promised to protect you.
But.. why couldn’t you recall her name?
Your head throbbed as fragments of blurry images surfaced. A boy’s laughter. An umbrella twirling in the rain. A warmth you couldn’t place.
You gripped your head, panic rising. “Who… who am I? Why am I here?”
Cosmic Lady’s expression darkened for a split second before softening again. “Oh, sweet one, you’ve been through so much. Your mind is just playing tricks on you. Focus on what’s real, on me. I’ll get you out of here.”
Her words soothed the edge of your panic, but deep inside, the nagging feeling wouldn’t go away. Something was wrong, and the further you walked through these doors, the less you felt like yourself.
The seventh door loomed ahead, its ominous aura pressing down on you like a physical weight. The system’s voice crackled to life, announcing the rules of the next trial.
“Seventh door: Bleed the sinner. To proceed, make the red one beg for release. Pain levels must reach critical. Timing starts now.”
You gritted your teeth, gripping the barbed whip provided by the system. The handle felt foreign and wrong in your hands, but you pushed the discomfort down. It was him or you. It had to be.
Mr. Scarletella knelt in the center of the room, his glitching form barely holding together. Blood streaked his skin, already torn and bruised from previous rounds. His eyes locked onto yours, steady and silent, as if daring you to act.
You hesitated.
“Oh, don’t falter now,”
You swung the whip.
It cracked against his exposed back, tearing into his already mangled flesh. He flinched but didn’t cry out, his lips pressed into a tight line. You struck again, harder this time, the sound echoing like thunder.
Still, he said nothing.
The system buzzed angrily.
“Insufficient pain. Increase force or fail the trial.”
Failing wasn’t an option. Not with Cosmic Lady watching. Not with freedom so close. You raised the whip again, your arm trembling, and lashed out, the barbs slicing deep.
“Just scream!” you shouted, frustration boiling over. “Why won’t you fight back? Why won’t you say anything?”
His eyes flickered to yours, something unspoken in their depths.
“He’s trying to manipulate you,” Cosmic Lady hissed, stepping closer. Her voice was no longer gentle but sharp, cutting. “Don’t let him get in your head. Focus on the task.”
The room spun as your grip tightened around the whip. Your chest heaved with labored breaths, the weight of your actions pressing down like lead. You hated this. Hated him. Hated yourself.
But the eighth door awaited.
The eighth trial was colder, both physically and emotionally. A room filled with jagged ice pillars surrounded you, the system’s voice dictating the next task.
“Eighth door: Freeze the parasite. Lower his body temperature to near death to proceed.”
You stared at the icy pool in the room's center, the water swirling with an unnatural, bone-chilling energy. Scarletella stood at its edge, his glitching form casting a warped reflection in the frozen surface.
You shoved him forward.
He stumbled into the icy depths, the water swallowing him whole. Steam rose as his body fought to regenerate against the freezing cold, his sharp inhalations the only sign of his pain.
“Keep going,” the system prompted.
You plunged a metal rod into the water, amplifying the cold. Scarletella’s body jerked violently as frost crept up his skin, but still, he refused to scream. His silence gnawed at you, each second dragging like an eternity.
The ninth door was fire.
“Ninth door: Burn the heretic. Ash must cover the floor before entry is granted.”
This time, you didn’t hesitate. The system provided a flamethrower, its weight foreign but solid in your hands. Scarletella stood in the center, his once-powerful form trembling but still upright.
You lit the flames.
They engulfed him instantly, the room filling with the acrid scent of burning flesh. He staggered, his body breaking apart in glitching chunks, but his eyes never left yours.
Why wasn’t he fighting back? Why wasn’t he stopping you?
“He’s letting you do this,” Cosmic Lady whispered. “He wants you to feel sorry for him. Don’t fall for it.”
By the time the tenth door loomed ahead, you could barely stand. Your hands shook violently, your legs felt like lead, and your mind was a whirlwind of confusion and guilt.
Scarletella’s form was a mess of static and torn flesh, barely recognizable as the ghost who first stood before you. His crimson coat was long gone, leaving him exposed in his black turtleneck, now scorched and torn from the trials.
The system crackled to life one final time. “Tenth door: Choose.”
The words hung heavy in the air as the final challenge awaited. Cosmic Lady’s hand rested on your shoulder, her presence both reassuring and suffocating.
“This is it, darling. You’ve done so well. Just one more choice, and you’re free. It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”
Was it?
As the tenth door loomed ahead, you staggered, each step feeling heavier than the last. The silence of the room pressed against your skull, amplifying the suffocating weight in your chest. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, but you couldn’t articulate it.
Your thoughts swirled in broken fragments, shards of a puzzle that refused to fit together. Why did you feel like you were walking a path not meant for you? Why did each lash of the whip, each shove into the ice, each flame that burned his body, feel like a betrayal, not of him but of yourself?
You tried to breathe, but the air felt thick, like trying to inhale through water.
"Who.. am I?"
The question echoed in your mind, but it carried no weight, no clarity. It was a question thrown into the void, swallowed whole without an answer.
“Don’t falter now,” Cosmic Lady’s voice purred, cutting through the haze. Her hand on your shoulder felt cold, even colder than the ice of the eighth trial. “You’ve done so much to get here. You’re so close. Don’t let doubt cloud your judgment.”
Her words should’ve been reassuring, but they felt wrong, like a melody played out of tune.
You clutched your head, sinking to your knees.
Who am I?
The thought screamed louder, bouncing around your skull like a trapped animal. The images of the trials flashed before your eyes, the bloodied whip, the icy pool, the scorching flames, all of it blurred, interwoven with flashes of something else. Something older.
A laugh. Warm and unrestrained.
A hand, reaching out.
A voice calling a name.. your name, but not.
Was it his?
Your gaze snapped to Scarletella. His broken body twitched on the ground, regenerating slowly, each movement pained but deliberate. He wasn’t looking at you. His head hung low, but even from here, you could feel it, the weight of his silence, the weight of something unsaid.
The pressure in your chest grew, twisting into something unbearable. You clawed at it, metaphorically tearing through layers of suffocating fog, but the harder you tried, the more Cosmic Lady’s voice filled the gaps.
“Focus, darling. You’re stronger than this. You know what he is. What he’s done. Don’t let him break you now.”
But was she right? Was any of this right?
The world around you blurred, shifting into abstract shapes and colors. The ground beneath your feet felt unstable, like it could crumble at any moment. You were falling, not physically, but mentally, deeper into a pit of uncertainty and fear.
“You’re mine, remember?” Cosmic Lady’s voice slithered into your ears. “I’ve always been there for you. Always protected you.”
Protected me from what?
The words were meant to soothe, but they only tightened the invisible grip around your lungs. You doubled over, gasping for air, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
A distant memory flickered again, a hand reaching out, a warm voice calling your name.
Was it his hand?
Scarletella’s body jolted, his head finally lifting to meet your gaze. Despite his mangled state, there was something raw in his eyes. Something that screamed at you, begged you to see through the fog.
But you couldn’t.
You could only fall deeper into the spiral, your identity slipping further from your grasp as the tenth door waited for your choice.
The air felt heavier than before, like it was pressing down on your chest, forcing the breath from your lungs. Your thoughts, if they were even yours, buzzed and fizzled, like static in a television set turned up too loud. Every step you took felt disconnected, as though your body wasn’t yours to control.
Who were you?
The question throbbed at the back of your mind like a wound that wouldn’t heal. But the answer wouldn’t come. Each time you tried to grasp it, it slipped through your fingers like sand, falling endlessly into a pit you couldn’t see the bottom of.
Your head was a balloon, overfilled with too much air, stretched too thin, threatening to pop at any second. But when it burst, there was no sound, only the suffocating silence of empty space where your thoughts used to be.
“Don’t stop now,” Cosmic Lady’s voice cooed, warm and honeyed, but it only added to the cacophony inside your skull. “You’re doing so well. You’re so close to being free."
Free. The word twisted in your mind, warping and expanding like something alive, a swollen bubble ready to burst. Was it even freedom you wanted? Or was it something else?
You tried to breathe, but the air was thick and heavy, like trying to inhale syrup. Your limbs moved, but they weren’t yours, not really. Each motion felt alien, like a puppet pulled by strings you couldn’t see.
Your thoughts tangled and knotted, a thousand voices shouting at once, none of them yours.
The whip. The ice. The flames.
Laughter, distant but sharp, slicing through the fog.
A hand, reaching out, but from where?
Your vision blurred, and the world around you felt like it was spinning out of control, shattering into pieces that didn’t fit. The door ahead pulsed like a heartbeat, its glow too bright, too harsh. Behind you, Cosmic Lady’s light swirled like a kaleidoscope, colors bleeding together in patterns you couldn’t follow.
You tried to speak, but the words stuck in your throat, forming a lump that refused to move. Who were you trying to speak to? Her? Him? Yourself?
A balloon popped, somewhere in the mess of your mind, releasing a rush of air that only made the pressure worse. You stumbled, your hands clawing at your head, trying to hold it together as if your thoughts might leak out.
The laughter grew louder, closer, but whose was it? It wasn’t hers. It wasn’t yours.
It was his.
Scarletella.
He didn’t speak, he couldn’t. But the sound of him was there, faint and glitching, like a broken recording playing over and over again. It didn’t make sense, none of it made sense, but it felt like it should.
Your legs moved forward, but you didn’t tell them to. Your arm lifted, but it wasn’t your choice. You reached for the door, but it wasn’t your hand.
Everything inside you screamed to stop, to turn back, to find whatever piece of you was still you.
But the balloon popped again. Another burst, another fracture, another empty space where a part of you used to be.
You couldn’t stop.
You couldn’t think.
You couldn’t breathe.
The door ahead pulsed again, waiting for you to make a choice. But were you the one making it? Or had the strings been pulled too tight, the balloon stretched too far, the fragments of who you were scattered too widely to ever put back together?
You didn’t know. You couldn’t know.
You only moved forward.
You stopped.
The air thickened, suffocating and heavy, but you stood still. For the first time, your body didn’t move on its own. Your hand, once trembling and twitching like it was on marionette strings, dropped to your side.
Cosmic Lady turned, her swirling aura of light casting shadows that danced on the walls. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice syrupy and sweet, yet carrying the edge of impatience. “We’re almost there. Just one more step, and you’ll be free.”
You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you stared at her, really looked at her. The glow, the shimmer, it felt wrong. Not like sunlight or warmth, but like a neon sign flickering on the verge of burning out. Artificial. Forced.
Her head tilted, her smile curving in a way that no longer felt friendly. “What is it?” she asked again, softer this time, almost like a mother coaxing a child.
“I…” Your voice cracked, raw from the shouting and crying you couldn’t remember doing. “I think I understand something now.”
Her light pulsed, and her expression wavered, just for a moment. The mask slipped, a fracture in the perfect, glowing facade. “Understand what?” she asked, her tone sharp beneath the honeyed exterior.
"That..."