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Summary
Damon could barely keep his eyes open. He would shield himself from the nothingness if he had the strength to move from where he stood. On what? Was there even a floor here? Where was here? He still hadn't figured that out.
Everything's a blur, just lumps of colors behind his eyelids, distant voices, and a dull ache in his stomach. Damon's tongue darted out over his bottom lip, but his mouth had gone completely sour, deprived of any moisture.
He… what was he doing?
'I died.'
It's a bitter, dreadful whisper in the back of his mind, one that's all too familiar.
'I died again.'
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Or: Damon's stuck in a time loop, forced to relive the killing game over and over again. He's tried everything to end it, but now there's only one possible solution left: keep everyone alive long enough to escape. Right. Sure.