The corridors seemed to grow longer with each step I took. The gray walls seemed to crush me a little more with their oppressive weight. I didn't care what was hidden in this cursed place. One thing was certain: I wasn't ready to conform. I wasn't ready to be trapped by its absurd rules and suffocating lies.
If I had to risk my life to understand what was happening here, then so be it.
As I passed by the library, I instinctively headed for the mythology section. Perhaps there were clues or hidden leads among those dusty pages.
I began to browse the titles when two boys burst in.
One of them had glowing skin and large, ash-colored eyes. He approached me with an enigmatic smile. The other, tall and chubby, clutched a bag of chips to his chest like a treasure.
"William Harvey," he said, holding out his hand. "This is George Big Ben. We're friends with Hugo. He's talked a lot about you."
I nodded suspiciously. But before I could answer or ask a question, William blurted out a sentence that exploded in my head like a bomb:
"Did Hugo warn you that whenever a new resident arrives in the middle of the night, it's because someone else was just released?...Someone who's six feet under?"
My muscles froze. I felt a cold wave run up my spine.
"Six feet under..." I whispered, almost to myself. The meaning was obvious, but hearing those words in such an oppressive place only made things worse. I forced myself to breathe slowly, trying to appear calm.
"Wait..." My voice was barely audible. "What do you mean by that? People are actually dying here, so it wasn't bullshit. How did they die?"
George shrugged with a nonchalance that sent a chill down my spine.
"Let's just say they tried to escape or did something they shouldn't have." He reached into his bag of chips and chewed quietly as if we were talking about the weather. "This isn't a place for the curious. You know what I mean? The rules here are strict. Those who try to mess around quickly learn their mistake."
Uncomfortable, Will took a step toward me and put a hand on my shoulder. His gaze was serious, almost sympathetic.
"Finn, this isn't a joke. This kind of thing happens more often than you think. The gods Simon talks about don't mess around. If you think you can escape them, think again. Once you're in their sights, it's over."
A heavy silence fell. The room seemed to close in around me and the air became stifling. My instincts told me to react, but a small voice inside whispered not to rush into anything. Not yet.
Finally, I broke the silence, my voice trembling with contained anger.
"How long have you been here?" Why are you here?"
George sat down on the floor with his legs crossed, still immersed in his bag of chips. His gaze seemed lost in a distant void.
"It's been two years for me. Hugo, a little less. Maybe a year and two months. Will's the new kid, though. Barely five months."
Will shook his head, his expression darkening.
"At first, we all think it's temporary; we think we'll get out of here. But time passes, and we begin to understand that nothing is that simple."
Those words echoed in my head. Nothing is that simple.
I clenched my fists, struggling not to explode. Every minute spent here added a new weight to my shoulders and a new shadow to my mind. But I knew this was only the beginning. Something far more sinister awaited me at the end of this maze.
I shook my head, my frustration growing with every passing second.
"This can't be happening! There must be a solution! They can't keep us here indefinitely!"
If you think there's a solution, then you don't understand. There's no point in fighting the inevitable. If you want to get out of this, you have to accept reality. Here, the rules are clear: Do what you're told, or disappear.
George's last words clung to me like invisible chains. The room was becoming stifling, and I felt fear wash over me as I realized the depth of the trap I had fallen into. It had nothing to do with the attic.
"I can't stay here. I have to get out," I whispered to myself, staring at an invisible point in the distance.
George looked away, avoiding my gaze. His silence spoke volumes, heavier than any answer he could have given me. Will seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then, with a slow gesture, he placed a firm hand on my shoulder.
"You're not the only one who thinks that, Finn. Many have had that intention. But believe me, some have tried. You don't want to know how it ended."
His voice trembled slightly at the end as if uttering those words had awakened a memory he would rather forget.
The room seemed to close in around me. The air became denser and harder to breathe as if their words had materialized into a leaden weight crushing my shoulders. I tried to stay calm, but my mind was racing. The words echoed in my head: "Six feet under."
How could I escape this place without ending up like them?
I scrutinized the faces of the other inmates in the room, one by one, looking for clues. Their fake joy. Their fake laughter. It was all a façade. They were marked by months, perhaps years of captivity. Each of them bore invisible scars from this place, a resignation mixed with dull, omnipresent fear.
"So, this Ares block... Is it just an illusion? A facade to keep us here until we disappear?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
Will exchanged a quick glance with George before answering.
"Yes, that's right. We're experiments to them. They observe us and manipulate us. When the time comes for the tryouts, some are released and others are eliminated."
"Released... like for real ?" I repeated, a hint of suspicion in my voice.
George, who had been silent until then, slowly sat up, his expression devoid of emotion.
"Basically, they get killed or kill each other. Death is the key to freedom," he said, his tone as cold as ice.
His words echoed in the heavy air of the room, amplifying the unease. George stood up, his shoulders tense, his entire body seeming ready to face something invisible yet terrifying.
"What kind of test is it?" I asked, despite the fear rising within me.
George exchanged a dark look with Will before continuing.
"They call it the Tryouts. Only the cruelest and most selfish people pass it. Some say the winners are sent to a center to learn how to be perfect and return to civilization. Others say it's bullshit and that only death awaits us."
My throat tightened.
"What a mess we're in!"
George looked away. Will took over, his voice low as if he were afraid of being heard.
"These tests are beyond comprehension. They're things we don't even want to imagine."
A knot of anxiety formed in my stomach. This was beyond my worst fears. It wasn't just a center; it was a prison in disguise. It was something much darker. Everyone here seemed to be a piece of a cruel puzzle, a life-size experiment in which we were the lab rats.
"So, if I understand correctly... The 'Tryout' is just a pretext to eliminate us one by one, right?"
Will nodded slowly, his features drawn with a fatigue I understood all too well.
"Exactly. To eliminate the rebels, those who don't want to fall in line and accept their fate."
I could feel the anger rising within me. It was all a charade. An absurd play written by invisible beings toying with our lives.
"Why not tell anyone? Why keep it all a secret?" I said, my tone aggressive and my voice trembling with indignation.
That's when Hugo slowly stepped forward from the shadows of the room. His deep, calm voice cut through the electric atmosphere.
"Because they have total control over us, Finn. They isolate us. They watch us. Every attempt at rebellion is crushed before it can take shape. They make us believe it's for our own good, but we all know it's because they hate us for being imperfect."
I stood motionless, unable to respond, as the weight of their revelations sank into my mind like sharp fangs:
The Tryout, the corpses... everything blurred into a whirlwind of horror. I felt trapped in a trap I could never escape, a labyrinth whose walls were invisible yet just as real.
"And how did you survive until now?" I asked, my voice hoarse and choked with anxiety.
Elio, sitting in the background, looked up at me. A bitter smile stretched his lips, but it never reached his eyes.
"We've adapted," he whispered. "We've learned to be invisible. We play the game as Simon taught us. But we can't live like this forever. This isn't living, Finn. We're all waiting for a miracle, but deep down, we know the longer we wait, the closer we are to our own end."
His words sank into me like knives. A life of waiting and fear? No, that couldn't be my reality.
"What about Simon? If he knows all this, why doesn't he warn the others? Why doesn't he do anything to help us?"
Will looked away, staring at an invisible point. His jaw clenched slightly as if my question had rekindled a pain he was trying to stifle.
"Simon... He's like everyone else. The gods have power over him, just as they do over all of us. They've given him a role, a mission. He wants to believe in it, you know? He wants to believe that everything is for the best. But deep down, he doesn't know any more than we do. He's just learned to play the game to be accepted."
Each word echoed in my head, forming an invisible chain that imprisoned me further. I needed to understand. If this place was a lie, a cleverly constructed illusion, then I had to know why. Most of all, I needed to know how to get out of it.
"What about the other residents ? The ones on the restricted floors... Are they being manipulated, too?"
A heavy silence fell. George and Will exchanged glances, then Will sighed deeply before answering.
"Those who have accepted it, like Simon, no longer ask questions. They live in their own little worlds, convinced that everything is fine. They obey and conform. But the others, those on the restricted floors... That's another story."
George interjected, his voice deeper and tinged with anger and fascination.
"Those on the restricted floors hate this place. They hate the gods, but they also hate everyone here. Even the gods fear them. They're crazy. They see the cracks in the walls. They know that all of this is an illusion, a trap. That's why we lock them up. They're dangerous to the system. They see the truth.
He paused, his eyes taking on a dark gleam.
"Some of them are criminals, that's true. They're the kind of people you wouldn't want to run into outside. But here... What frightens the gods is their ability to question everything, their hatred, and their determination. They could turn everything upside down."
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to calm the chaos in my mind. But anger and fear swirled inside me, pulling me into a downward spiral. And that fear... That insidious, muffled fear whispered that there might be no way out.
"So, there's really nothing we can do?" I whispered, my voice barely audible and almost broken.
Hugo, who had been silent until then, stepped forward slowly. A sad smile, marked by an almost painful resignation, appeared on his lips.
"There's always something to do, Finn." Always. But you have to understand that every attempt, every question, and every move to escape comes at a price. Some have even paid with their lives. Sometimes, that price is higher than what we're willing to sacrifice."
His gaze lingered on me, piercing, as if to ensure that I understood the full meaning of his words.
I clenched my fists. It was all a charade, a cruel game orchestrated by invisible beings who toyed with our lives as if they were worthless. But I couldn't just stand there waiting for my end to catch up with me.
"I want to find a way out of here," I declared, my voice firmer. "I don't care what the cost is. I've been caged up long enough."
A heavy silence fell over the room. George and Will looked at me in disbelief. Hugo nodded slightly, as if he had anticipated my response.
"Then get ready! What you're about to discover could break you long before you find a way out."
I nodded, although part of me trembled with apprehension. No matter what danger lay ahead, it was better than dying here, in this cursed place, without having tried my luck. I pulled myself together and became determined. Whatever happened, I had to take risks. George, Will, and Hugo left without a word. Their heavy gazes reminded me of the gravity of my choices. Their silence spoke louder than a thousand warnings.
I knew I had no choice. The game had begun, and I was just a pawn in this cruel game.
To calm my tormented thoughts, I went to the library. I picked up a book at random: The Odyssey of Ulysses. It's a tale of journeys, battles, and cunning. Perhaps immersing myself in another struggle would calm my mind. My eyes scanned the words, but my concentration wavered. The pages blurred and my eyelids grew heavy. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.
When I woke up, I did so with a start. An oppressive feeling crushed my chest as if an invisible hand were trying to hold me down. My breathing was short and irregular. The library was empty and deserted, bathed in dim light. The shadows had changed; they were elongated and menacing. How long had I been asleep?
My heart pounding, I sat up and glanced around me. A strange, heavy feeling hung in the air, unlike anything I had felt before. It was a kind of intangible pressure that seemed to want to crush me. My instincts screamed that something was deeply wrong.
A loud thud echoed through the hallway, freezing me in my tracks. My heart skipped a beat. I wasn't alone.
I slowly approached the door and listened intently. The footsteps were slow and measured but were getting closer. Was it another inmate?
After making sure that no one was right in front of me, I stepped out into the hallway. My goal was clear: to get back to my room. But the further I walked, the heavier the air seemed to become, as if breathing were an effort. The atmosphere was so thick that I felt like I was being hunted.
The stairs were blocked. The doors were locked. Wherever I turned, it seemed as if the building had closed in around me. My agitation grew, fueled by the feeling of being watched again.
That's when I stumbled upon them.
About twenty residents were standing facing me. They were lined up in the hallway as if waiting for me. Their uniforms were identical to mine, except theirs were black and red.
"Well, well... What do we have here?" one of them drawled.
"A new toy," replied another with a wicked smile stretching his lips.
I froze, unable to respond. My stomach knotted, and a dull fear rose within me. The looks they gave me were anything but friendly.
Their leader, a boy with an angular face and eyes shining with malice, slowly stepped forward. His smile was too wide and fixed, and his gaze pierced my soul.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asked, his voice soft yet laden with implicit menace.
I took a step back; my instincts screamed at me to run. But my legs were frozen, as if nailed to the ground.
"What do you want from me?" I whispered, my voice trembling.
Another man, smaller but more nervous, stepped forward. He absentmindedly played with a fork, his eyes shining with an almost frenzied gleam.
"We just want to get to know you," he replied with a twisted grin. "Maybe we can help you. Or maybe you can help us. Who knows?" Every word, every smile oozed menace.
Every word and smile oozed menace. I knew these people weren't just residents. There was something deeply broken and dangerous about them. Their madness was palpable and made my blood run cold.
Without thinking, I turned on my heel and rushed into the hallway. My footsteps echoed loudly, each one hitting my ears with unbearable intensity. I could feel their eyes on me behind me. They were there, invisible, but their presence suffocated me. The distorted laughter started out discreet and grew louder and louder, like mocking specters. It wasn't just a threat. No, it was a promise. They didn't follow me immediately, as if they knew I had nowhere to go, that every door behind me was a dead end and every hallway corner a condemnation. The building itself seemed to conspire against me, like a treacherous, devouring machine.
I threw myself against the first door I found. Locked. My trembling fingers slid over the metal handle, to no avail. Panic gripped my throat. I spun around, desperately searching for an escape route. But there was none. Every staircase seemed to be part of their hunt, every access point was closed off. My breath was short and ragged, and every heartbeat seemed to echo in the emptiness. It was as if the walls themselves were closing in on me, suffocating me.
I glanced behind me. At the end of the corridor, there they were. They were deliberately not hurrying. Their slowness made it all the more terrifying. They were enjoying themselves; I could almost hear them reveling in my fear.
I knew I was trapped, and yet my mind refused to accept it. These inmates... they weren't like me. Part of me knew it, but it was a truth I wasn't ready to face. No, they were something else. What if all this was part of the Tryout? The test that George and Will had mentioned? What if this was the true face of this place, a place where people like me were nothing but meat, fresh flesh for their amusement?
I ran, my legs reacting to the overwhelming panic, but one thought haunted me: They knew. They knew I was trapped with no way out. No way to escape.
"You can't do this," I protested, my voice trembling like a desperate whisper.
Their laughter intensified, filling the hallway with a cacophony of madness. Gavin leaned in too close, his face contorted with a hatred I had never seen before. His eyes glowed with a cruel, almost insane light.
"We make the rules here," he said in an icy whisper. "And you're going to learn to respect them, whether you like it or not. But don't worry. You'll get your share of suffering. Everyone here has already had theirs. Now it's your turn."
His breath brushed against my skin, and I could almost feel his madness spreading and invading my insides. I forced myself to stand up straight, refusing to give in to fear. The truth was relentless, however. I already knew what awaited me: The blows, the screams, the pain. It was a macabre symphony, a spectacle for them and I was just an unwilling actor.
In a final act of desperation, I started to run, my feet pounding the ground like hammer blows. The sinister, endless corridor stretched out before me. The sound of their footsteps grew closer, like an impending sentence. I could hear them laughing, feeding on my terror. Gavin and the others... They weren't normal people. No, they were predators. And I was just prey. I was just prey.
Adrenaline pulsed through my veins with every heartbeat, drowning me in an uncontrollable frenzy. Thoughts collided in my head, creating a cacophony that made every second harder to bear. I didn't know where I was running. It was no longer a question of direction but of survival, of pure animal instinct. I had to escape.
I turned sharply around a corner and saw an even darker corridor looming ahead. The walls seemed to close in around me as if the entire place were trying to devour me. The neon lights flickered, casting twisted and distorted shadows that clouded my mind further. I felt trapped in a spider's web, each movement bringing me closer to the center.
"I have to get out of here," I thought, but the words seemed empty. How could I escape when every corner of the building was a dead end and every door was double-locked? My eyes frantically searched for an exit, but I only saw walls, doors, and barred windows. It was as if the building itself had trapped me, preventing me from escaping.