"Sorry, kid. Nothin' personal."
Anshui is strapped to a chair. Tied to the chair is a block of cement and behind it, the sea. In front of Anshui are a group of men from the Ubique gang. His parents borrowed money from them before they died and now he had to pay their debts off.
"W-Wait!" he says, "Am- Am I not working enough? I'll do more! Please, let me go!"
One of the men shakes his head, taking a drag of his cigar before speaking, smoke blowing out of his mouth.
"Nah. The boss says you just aren't useful enough. So long, kid."
"Wait..!"
The man kicks the cement block, pushing both it and Anshui into the water. The boat drives away as Anshui sinks to the bottom of the ocean, struggling against the chains around him. He holds his breath for a minute before the nausea gets to him and instinctually, he breathes in, only for water to flood his lungs. He coughs and heaves, a heavy, burning sensation spreading through his chest.
'Fuck!' he thinks, vision darkening, 'What kind of shitty parents leave their child with so much debt!?'
His vision darkens even further and his mind blanks. He stops struggling, accepting his fate. Only a single thought is left in his mind.
'I don't wanna die...'
...
☆☆☆ [Survival Rights] ☆☆☆
With a gasp, Anshui sits up and begins vomiting water. Liquid gushes out of his mouth and nose, feeling as if it's pulling all his organs out with it.
'Where am I..? [Survival Rights]..?'
He looks around, finding himself in a tiled room with a rusty, metal trapdoor and dim, yet harsh fluorescent lighting. Sitting a few feet from him is a knife and near the trapdoor is a television while the wall opposing it holds a mirror.
'Could it be..? Am I in a [Scenario]?'
He learnt about this through the many pamphlets and ads the government sent out. Sometimes, when falling asleep, people may become a [Lucid] and get transported to a dimension, known as a [Scenario]. These [Scenarios] are split into two, [Dreams] and [Nightmares]. [Dreams] are peaceful and purely beneficial, while [Nightmares] are dangerous, but provide [Lucids] with rewards if they survive.
The television comes to life, static playing for a few seconds before a figure appears. The figure has black hair reaching to their neck and rosy cheeks with hollow eye sockets leaking a black goo.
'Is that... me?'
"PRoVE YouR wiLL. A keY haS BEen PlACed iNsIDe yOuR BoDy."
The television shuts off.
'Prove my will? What?'
*Creak!*
A groan rings through the room. Looking up, Anshui notices the ceiling begin to descend. He runs to the door and attempts to turn the doorknob, which refuses to budge.
'No use! I need- I need a key...'
Turning around, Anshui spots the knife left on the ground and dashes over, picking it up. He takes a deep breath, before jamming the knife into his thigh.
"Argh!"
Crimson red spills from the wound, accompanying a searing pain. Anshui drags it across his flesh, each second of movement hurting more than the last. Once his legs have been cut open, he pulls them apart. The exposure to air heightens the pain, causing him to immediately close the wound. Tears well in his eyes, but he quickly blinks them away.
'Shit! It's not in there!'
He turns and stabs his other leg, repeating the process. Nothing. Then, he begjns carving into his left hand. Nothing. Lifting his shirt, he turns the knife to his chest, stabbing. The pain he feels is especially intense and he feels his heart begin to fail, but apart from pain, nothing happens.
'I haven't died..? Do I have to search my organs as well!?'
*Creak!*
A groan from above reminded him of his limited time. In a panic, he clumsily drags the knife down, the knife's path now jagged in his stomach and causing more pain. Even more tears well up in his eye and he uses his sleeve to wipe them away, but the salty water comes.into contact with the crevice in his shouldler and causes a searing hot pain.
'Fuck it!'
Anshui begins carving through his torso and its organs, red dying the room's tiles as the ceiling above continues lowering.
Stomach? Nothing.
Liver? Nothing.
Intestines? Nothing.
Lungs? Nothing.
Heart? Nothing.
'Where else could this key be!?'
A moment passes, then a thought hits him. He turns around, facing the mirror. Using his one good hand, he crawls over and stares at his own face. He brings the knife in front of him, aiming at his forehead. He takes a deep breath, then...
"AARGHAA!"
A searing pain tears into his skull, but he continues. The ceiling descends, forcing him into a crawl as he drags the knife down to his nose. In the midst of his brain matter, he sees something glimmer like gold. His hand shoots in, prying his skull apart. Ignoring the pain that burns like lava, he grabs the key and crawls back to the trapdoor, blood trailing and tears streaming, and shoves the metal into the hole, twisting and falling through.