Chapter Text
Chapter one: Burning, aching, burning, aching in his throat and burning in his chest. Michael felt as if his whole body was on fire, even though he could feel the wetness of the pool around him. He managed to pull his head out of the water, his long blond hair now stained red, gasping for breath.
As he opened his eyes with some effort, he noticed two things: The pool was made of blood. It wasn’t even the worst thing he’d woken up in. And it was shallow enough for a toddler to swim in. Huh. He was face down, so maybe that's why he didn't notice. Where was he now, anyway? If he hadn't known better, Michael would have thought that this was another corridor that he got stuck in. He'd been wandering the corridors, alone, for what felt like forever, so why would this be any different? But this room felt normal. Not contorted, distorted, or wrong, but just a normal butchery, with fresh dead animals hanging from the ceiling, a small window, and a single warm lightbulb in the middle. If it wasn't for the blood that filled the room, one would be able to walk in here and not think of anything but a butcher doing their work.
Michael pulled himself off the floor and looked around, and to his confusion, the small window looked outside to a street, with small shops around the roads. Despite the darkness of the night, Michael could make out a sign near the end of the road, where he was. Hill top road. It rang a bell, but he couldn't remember what.
Michael stepped through the door, letting a flood of fresh blood out onto the street. There was an old man standing a couple meters away from him, wearing a janitor uniform, broom in hand. Before Michael could ask him anything, he fled, leaving the broom. Understandable, seeing someone exit a building with blood streaming out would be distressing. Or would it? Michael couldn't really remember what was scary anymore. The first couple of years he was trapped in the spiral, he felt terrified all the time. Now, as he stood alone on this empty street, covered in sticky blood, faint pained groaning sounds coming from some building nearby, he didn't feel anything but vague confusion and mild irritation. He should probably clean off first, it would be difficult to ask anyone any questions when you look like a saw trap victim.
He went back inside and looked around for any signs of human life. None. The only thing that indicated someone was there was the meat hanging from the ceiling, which only could have been there for less than half an hour. He went past the counter and into the room behind. A normal butcher kitchen. He opened a door near a counter and went up a set of used and abused stairs. There was a bedroom, a small kitchen and a bathroom. A normal upstairs flat. But still no sign of any human life. The bed was cold and covered in dust, the curtains closed, and not a single personal belonging as far as Michael could tell.
Michael stumbled into the shower fully clothed and turned the water on, getting sprayed with freezing water. He couldn't make sense of this. Where was he? Where was the institute? How did he get out of the corridors? Why was there so much blood? How long has he been gone? Was Gertrude okay? He pushed the last thought out of his mind quickly. No. No more of her. He wouldn't even think of her name from now on. Michael stumbled out of the shower after a while, his clothes and skin somehow miraculously free of blood. He went downstairs, dripping with cold water, when he stopped in his tracks.
There was someone sitting on the butchering counter.