Page 3 of Death Trap

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As I start to walk in the direction of the loudest voices, my energy seems to build. Small wisps of smoke pull from the void around me and build the light that flared to life moments ago. My exhaustion fades and strength fills me. For the first time since arriving at this limbo, I feel like I can truly function.

The fog reflects off of my light until it’s harder to see my surroundings, or lack thereof, than before. My footsteps are slow and measured as I make my way through the fog. There has to be at least one person who can explain what the hell is happening.

If there are voices, there must be people...right?

The voices shift to something far more sinister. Low, feral growls fill the air now and the fog deepens in response. Every alarm bell in my brain is blasting loudly as fear pulses through me. It was peaceful here before, but now, I’m terrified. Despite my better judgment I call out into the void. Desperation isn’t the most logical state to be in.

“Hello?” I pause to listen for an answering voice, barely breathing so I don’t miss a thing. All at once the noises around me stop, leaving a deafening silence that stops me in my tracks.

This time the unsettling quiet is far more disturbing than the growls. Does it mean something’s out there, watching me now, waiting to see what I’ll do next? In my mind I conjure up images of faceless shadows and demons waiting to strike.

Fight or flight had never meant anything to me until now. A cold breath wafts over the back of my neck and on instinct I swirl around, fists swinging. Of course nothing connects and I nearly topple forward. This place seems to have layers so that I’m on one and the invisible creature is on another.

“What are you?” I growl out in annoyance, breathing wildly as I stand with my fists ready to strike again. When no answer comes, I let out a loud yell of frustration, falling to my knees.

I’ve been good in life, haven’t I? What did I do to deserve this?

My next thought is of volunteering at the… shelter? Wait. No. It was a pantry, right? I can’t quite remember. The vision of the place is just a fuzzy blank like I’m looking at it through a foggy window. I can’t even remember enough of what the building looks like to conjure the rest of the image.

The harder I try to tug the memory forward, to force it to come into focus, just pushes it away.

Frustration. Panic. Worry. Fear. They all war within me but I push them down. I nearly died so whatever is going on isn’t that surprising. Freaking out will only make it take longer to recall my memories. Amnesia after trauma is normal… all of those doctor shows I loved told me that.

I don’t dwell on the fact I can somehow remember a show but not a real place.

Struggling to pull myself together, I close my eyes, inhale a deep breath and hold it, willing my body to calm down.

“You can do this,”a voice echoes in my head. My eyes snap open and I jump to my feet and turn in a circle, trying to identify it.

What the fuck? What the hell is happening to me? What have I landed in?

“Who said that?” I say out loud, before realizing that the voice was directly in my mind. This time, I repeat the question in my head, desperately hoping I get a reply this time, but silence is the only one I receive. “Of fucking, course you won’t answer.”

Fighting with creepy, intangible voices won’t get me anywhere though. Focusing on waking up has to be my first goal.

My eyes flutter closed as I try to calm my breathing and my mind again. The voices are quiet enough now that I can truly think. Except I have no fucking clue how to actually get out of this. When I open my eyes I just see the fog. There’s a twinge of something, a connection, but it’s shaky at best, unable to be grasped. Somehow I know my body is on the other side of it but the information does little to help me.

Not to mention the mindfuck of my body and soul being separated. Like how can I breathe here? Move? But I can’t fall into that rabbit hole, not here, not now.

No matter how hard I focus on opening my eyes and trying to hone in on any noise surrounding me, nothing seems to work. I feel alive here in the darkness but can’t seem to separate it from reality. The urgency of my situation weighs down on me, I hate the thought of lying defenseless among men I don’t know.

“Take a deep breath and stop overthinking. You haven’t closed off your fear.”Oh great, creepy voice is back. That’s not at all scary while surrounded by fog and darkness. My inner sarcasm comes out to keep my sheer terror and panic at bay and this time I embrace it, use it as armor to strengthen my resolve.

I ignore the voice and instead regulate my breathing. If my body is out there then I need to connect with it. Despite my attempts at remembering what it felt like to touch, to see, to feel, my brain can’t separate this place from the real one.

When that fails, I try focusing on the voices I heard earlier. As I go over what they were saying in my head, I can almost hear them again. They steadily grow louder until I’m slowly able to blink open my actual eyelids. Just like that I’m out of the darkness. My body feels heavier and the change is disorienting.

A pair of hazel eyes meet mine and it takes a moment to catch my brain up.

“Am I in heaven?” I ask stupidly. The owner of the eyes backs away as I sit up and attempt to take a look at my surroundings, but everything is still blurry.

“Welcome to the City of Souls, I’m Arianna. I can give you more details after you shower and dress.” She has humor in her voice and I push past my grogginess toattempt to sit up.

Of course that’s the moment I realize I’m completely naked and covered in blood. I look almost like I would have expected for a gunshot victim, minus the lack of injuries, especially an actual bullet hole amidst the gore.

Why am I not hurt? I felt the pain…

I peer up at Arianna, giving her a questioning look. Her only response is to hand me a pile of black clothing and a small bag of products. “Shower is through that door. I’ll be waiting in the next room,” she says in lieu of a real answer, giving me an encouraging smile before walking out.


Tags: Jarica James Paranormal