The Next Life (?? ?? ???)

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13. Ȩ̴̤̼̄͋v̸̦́̀͘ẹ̵͖̱̬̈̒̈͆͘r̴͙̊y̶̡̞̣͕̖͐̓ţ̵͍̝̍h̷̪̻̮͑̓́̃͐i̴̡̚͠n̵̥̣̝̲̟͌̊g̸̰͊ͅ ̴̦͖̥̝̔̅̿i̷̴͕̤͂͗̐̃͂̃s̸͍̳̠̆̿ ḁ̷̮̘͎͔̑̇̒ ̸̖̥͠l̶͇͕̈i̷̞̻̠̮̮͐͑͐͛̈́e̸͚̠͖͕͔̓̚.

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Any hope that the note might've held answers or cleared the situation up died as I read through the list. The pounding in my head stayed ever so loud, which made my attempts to comprehend the new gravity of the situation even more futile.

I didn't have many options. I had no memory of who I was or how I'd ended up in that place. My best option was to leave the room and look around to try and make sense of it all. However difficult that seemed, I would perhaps stand a better chance at receiving answers than if I stayed in here.

Plus, there was Rule 8.

The studio's door opened into a corridor, barely lit with only emergency lights. It meant I didn't need to use my phone's flashlight, and seeing as I couldn't tell how much juice it had left, I wasn't taking any chances.

I picked a direction and walked through the corridor. I figured either it was a dead end and I could turn around, or it would lead to answers. Or more questions.

As I walked, noises came from somewhere else in... whatever building this was. They were muffled, but I could just make out a few screams, though I didn't know if they were human. For a minute I could've sworn I'd heard words. Probably my mind playing tricks on me.

The doors I passed were identical to the one I'd left through, with absolutely no distinguishing features. So when I came across the basement door, it stood out like a sore thumb. While the others were wooden, painted white, this one was cold metal. Embedded into the metal was the word "Basement". Couldn't have been more obvious than that.

I checked the list of rules, which I'd folded and tucked into my jacket pocket.

Rule 2. The basement contains several supplies which you may need, but also contains a being of pure hatred. Don't let it hear you.

Gulping, I made my decision. As much as I didn't want to see what was down there, I was walking around with nothing but my near-useless phone. Supplies would probably be necessary, especially since how long I would have to hold out was anyone's guess.

The handle was cold to touch, and the door screamed in protest as it opened, the metallic creak filling the corridor and piercing deeper into my skull. Beyond the door frame was a set of stairs going downwards. Though, only the first three steps were visible, as the rest were swallowed by that same unholy darkness I'd woken up to. I took a deep breath before stepping forward, pointing my phone's light to just barely see the next step each time.

After an excruciatingly long trip down the stairs, painfully aware of the way my shoes hit each step and the sound they made, an unexpected scent hit my nose. Not that I knew what to expect at all, but it definitely wasn't... cinnamon. That didn't make sense. I shouldn't remember what cinnamon was if I didn't even remember my own name. It felt... like I'd only smelled that scent recently, within hours maybe? It didn't help much, given my memory only spanned the past few minutes.

As I pointed my light, looking around the basement, I looked for any apparent source of the scent. And find it I did. My heart leapt into my throat as I turned the light away from the thing in the basement, yelling silent gratitudes to myself for having not shone it directly at it.

In front of the far wall, emitting a red glow, was something shaped like a human. But it sure as hell wasn't. Bathed in a faint scarlet hue, I saw deep black scales covering its skin. I couldn't tell if it was the lighting, but they seemed to dig into its flesh, staining the surrounding skin in angry pink. The creature stood, its back facing me, a pair of dark scrawny wings sticking out of its bare back. They looked somewhere in between bones and metal framing, the skin between the joints tattered like rags. The glow itself seemed to encompass its body, like a thin layer of smoke over his skin.