You laid there in a puddle of hot, then warm, then cool, then ice-cold liquid. So this hadn't gone exactly how you'd planned. That was... That was ok. That was just fine. All you needed to do, you decided, was to try again. This place was a death trap; there had to be some way to kill yourself - and quickly. Now.
Very carefully, you brought your arms underneath you and pushed yourself up off the floor, turning yourself over until you were now only sitting in the puddle of what you hoped was at least fifty percent water. You flexed your hands, one at a time, hoping that this was the part of the dream where you suddenly woke up and realized that you had to spend one more day without the comforting embrace of a loving anime girl. No such luck. Well, on to killing yourself, you supposed.You fell the first time you stood up, your sneakers failing to find friction on the slick floor. You got a good look at it when you face-planted; it was dark and tasted just like the blood in your mouth. The second time, you stayed upright despite your shaky legs but you kept yourself hunched. (Did a hunch count as a stealth crouch?) You didn't want to attract attention, especially not if it meant coming face-to-face with that monster in the diving suit. You quietly picked your steps to the airlock, passing under the "Welcome to Rapture" sign, and you nearly fell over again when you did so.You saw... You saw... You saw... Well, you saw the sea. You'd already seen it, of course, but being surrounded on all sides by it made it really difficult to pretend you weren't hundreds of feet below water. You hunched over even more, feeling the pressure, the pressure that must be trying to crush you, the pressure that had to be out to turn you into a fine fish food paste, and walked on as steadily as you could. The other airlock felt miles away (Leagues?) but you made it with barely enough air in your lungs to sputter gently, your fingers tingling, as you turned opened the door.
You were enclosed again, and you took big gulping breaths. Here, there was a ceiling, a floor, walls! Yes, yes! You could pretend this was above water, above ground... if there'd been a zombie outbreak at a Great Gatsby themed hotel. You entered through an archway, the sides of which were smooth white stone, which led to a large lobby. There were frescos on the walls, picked out in tiny shards of tile with patches wiped off wholesale by wear, tear, and what looked like thick furry moss. Something piled up by the wall, damp and dull brown, suggested that there might've once been carpeting but the rest of the floor was bald, bare, and scored with lines and marred by blackened pits that you didn't want to think about too closely. There were a few items of furniture still left - couches without cushions, turned over on their sides and their upholstery slashed in long jagged cuts, an end table with a large circular burn scar in the center - but the focal point of the room only became apparent when you slunk further into the room and turned around.
This fresco was made of glittering glass, clouded by condensing water and cracks, but its subject was still mostly recognizable. It was a man in a suit with a knowing smile on his face. His eyes had once been set with stones but they'd been prized out. In a ribbon, starting a few inches from his left shoulder and swirling around and across his body to his right, read "I CHOSE RAPTURE" in large, elegant letters. A smaller figure whose face had been completely chipped away held his hand, wearing the sort of dress you'd only seen in old photographs. Along the bottom of what used to be her chin, you saw the faintest hint of a smile. You stepped away from the fresco, turned around, and looked up. There was a massive, empty shaft, possibly for an elevator, and when you stuck your head in to look, it stretched up so far into the darkness that you wondered if it actually went anywhere at all. You poked around a little, trying to find the controls but no such luck. You rocked back and forth on your heels for a moment before you realized you might slip and fall again.You hadn't really prepared for this. You hadn't really prepared at all. You just sort of assumed that when you woke up in your next life that you'd just, sort of, you know, be taken care of. Somebody would've come along and helped you out, leading you on the road to further adventure. But here, you were alone... or not as alone as you would've liked.
You stood there, muttering to yourself softly, for a minute or two before you heard the slightest of scratches coming your way. You froze, your heart stuck in your chest, and heard the scratching stop. Then it began again, a little softer this time, but you were paying attention now. They skittered around, excited but deliberate movements closing in on you. You looked around, trying not to betray your panic, for something, anything you could use as a weapon. There was a small length of what might've once been polished brass about a foot away, bent at a funny angle and with a little knot of red rope tied through a hole at the end. You fixed your eyes on it, trying to estimate just how long it'd take you to pick it up, turn around, and strike. You were never all that good at math, though.The scratching stopped just a few feet away, the only sound now the soft drip-drip-drop of water. Drip-drip-drop. Drip drip drop. Drip. Drip. Drop.
You picked up the brass post and turned around. No one, nothing. Then you felt something trickle onto your forehead.You looked up.
drip
drip
drop
