Amnesiac (part 2)

You’re in a decaying room decorated in the style of the 1950s. Aged and water damaged floral wallpaper line the moldy walls. The lights that work are dim and flicker at times. All the windows are boarded up or blocked by something keeping all outside light from entering. The only thing you hear is odd, almost inaudible music and occasional unidentifiable sounds. You wander the living room to find the old tube tv still on playing static, you think of sitting down on the old couch. You’re tired. Too tired. It feels like you’ve been here for hours. How long *have* you been here anyway? Minutes? Hours? Days? You *know* it couldn’t have been that long but how can you be sure? This isn’t the first time you’ve asked that question you know.

Now you find yourself wandering the seemingly endless hallways, some of which don’t have any doors for what feels like miles, while others leave no space between them. Maybe you should check inside some; your friend might in one of those rooms. That’s right you entered with someone else. What was her name? Doesn’t matter much now, she’s clearly gone; but when did she leave? You don’t remember her but she was with you when you first entered. What was her name? You keep walking the halls and eventually find yourself in what looks to be a basement despite never going down any stairs. Or did you? It’s getting harder to remember the details, isn’t it?

The walls here are made of moist and moldy stone. You pass large steel doors and you can faintly hear sobbing behind one of them. You try to open it but it’s locked and when you pull harder you hear screaming from within. You call out and the screaming continues intermixed with tear choked cries for you to go away.

The walls here are made of moist and moldy stone. You pass several large steel doors but they’re all locked and quiet so you keep walking. How long have you been down here? How did you get here? Weren’t you in an a house? You don’t remember so you keep walking.

You’re in a decaying room decorated in the style of the 1950s. Aged and water damaged floral wallpaper line the moldy walls. The lights that work are dim and flicker at times. All the windows are boarded up or blocked by something keeping all outside light from entering. You take notice of the music again. Has it been playing the whole time? Where is it coming from? How did you get here?

You walk up the stairs to the second floor and enter the first room you find. Inside is a small bed stained with old blood, someone is sitting in a chair facing the eastern corner. They don’t react to you entering. You move closer and place a hand on their shoulder hoping it’s your friend. They jerk violently and scream at your touch, spasming and contorting all while pulling at the straps holding their wrists and ankles in place. They let loose a blood choked cry before becoming still.

You walk up the stairs to the second floor and enter the first room. It’s empty so you try the next only to find every room oddly clean and devoid of furniture. You go back down stairs and remember that you had a friend. You weren’t always alone. Where did she go? What was her name? How many times have you asked that already? Do you remember asking it before?

You find yourself in what looks to be a basement despite never going down any stairs. Or did you? It’s getting harder to remember the details, isn’t it? You pass several steel doors and open one. Inside is your friend, she’s sobbing and chained to the wall. There’s blood stains around her and you can hear whispers from the room next to this one but can’t make out what they’re saying. You walk closer to her and she turns to face you.

You’re in a decaying room decorated in the style of the 1950s. Aged and water damaged floral wallpaper line the moldy walls. The light from the outside fills the room and you notice that it must be around 5 giving the way the sun lingers just above the horizon. What time did you enter? Do you remember if the sun was rising or setting then? Maybe it was midday. Where’s your friend?