Peering out of the doorway, I spot Sherri and that director lady walking farther down the hall. 

I can’t believe that worked, I think to myself as I remember simply knocking on the wall for the door to expand and unlock. I’ve watched everyone else do it, so I just tried it to see if it would work for me. And, lo and behold, that was all it required. Two simple knocks. 

This place needs better security…

Once I see that they’re a safe distance away, I dash down the hallway to the right, in the opposite direction, and turn the corner.

Not feeling the utmost confidence in the way this place is run, I decided to try to escape and find my way back to the land of the living myself. After all, they don’t have the correct file and they are very insistent on the finality of it all. 

// You feel as if your heart starts to race— even though it can’t… || “You can’t think you’d have a heartbeat if you're dead now…” \

Ever since I woke up here my heart has been a nonstop beat-fest. 

I reach for my calm heart, hoping that so many heart-skips and jolts don’t result in a heart attack that’ll actually kill me.

What else am I supposed to do? Those papers are wrong. Their security is lax. And, I would hate to see what they do when they clearly see that I’m still alive. 

Not only that but I shutter at the thought of what they’d do to me when they find out that I’m the one who was always saving people from their early deaths. 

My heart skips a beat. I quickly dash into a room labeled “well” and watch from the small window in the door as another one of those people in black walks by.

That woman with the bowtie who came in, who was she? She was clearly someone far up the chain holding the title of director…

I try to recall what I know about the Divine 9 from my history and legends class. Out of the 9 Hosts that “uphold” the universe, only the Host of the End and the Host of the Beginning are never given descriptions beyond vague nightmarish retellings. Because most people would never been able to live after meeting them or have no clear memory of their encounters, only a few ancient writers have said, “...death was a man out of flesh, a ghoulish sort, with a black covering which rides the wind and a crescent blade which carries the moon.” Or a “decrepit sort, shaggy in appearance, living in a landscape of torture—  longing for rest.”

Based on the description that was given, I don’t think that woman was any of the Hosts themselves, but must work for the Host of the End. 

Poking my head out of the “well”, I look left and right to see if the coast is clear. While looking, I take notice of how clean and tidy the halls are. They aren’t decrepit or something I’d consider looking torturous. In fact, this place looks awe inspiring now that I’m actually looking at it. 

The floors are marble with a wooden inlay and the dark mahogany walls are pristine without a single mark on them. The crown molding at the top of the walls is a foot's width and sits in the shape of skulls, meanwhile the trim at the base of the wall is in the shape of continuous gates. It looks like some seriously gifted interior designer and molder designed this place. 

After sucking in enough of a gaze at the interior design I close the door having noticed my heart skip another beat. 

Turning around, I quickly head into the “well,” already deducing that this must be the stairs, but something above me catches my eye. I look up as I keep walking, reading and wondering why there’s writing for each floor on the ceiling instead of on the walls… and wondering why I can see higher floor numbers above me. Something is missing from this picturAhhhhhhh

“OH CRAP!” I hear my words echo off the walls.

I immediately plummet down. 

This is no stairwell, it’s a platform well— WITH NO STAIRS!

After free falling down 6 flights of stairs I reach out and grab a hold of a flat platform labeled 7 in the exact same place that it’s written underneath. To my surprise I didn’t feel much weight on my arm when I caught myself. I pull myself up to the platform and try to steal back my nerves and my blood pressure.

That was close. 

As I get up I get a good look down. I can see what the architect of this mad house was going for. On each floor, there’s an opposite platform that someone could stand on and hop down to with a railing connecting each of the platforms. It’s set up to look just like a normal stairwell just with zero stairs. No wonder this was simply called a “well,” not a ‘stairwell’.

But what would they do if they wanted to go up?

Before I could think of an answer, I hear the door to the platform-well open somewhere below me. I sneakily peer down to see a person standing on the platform of level 5. I watch intently as the person leaps from the 5th floor to a floor above me in an instant.

That. Is. Too. Cool!

I don’t move until I hear the door open and shut above me. Once I do, I look up at the 8th floor platform and mentally measure the distance to make it up there. Then I immediately check under it to measure the drop to the 6th in case this doesn’t work out.

I prepare myself and test a small jump out on my current platform but as soon as I jump I almost collide with the cieling above me. 

I’m lighter here… so that's how that guy was able to do that.

Invigorated to test this, I get ready to jump, this time with about the same force as my light jump before. 

Here goes nothing…

I hop up to the 8th floor with ease. 

This is so fun!

I take the time to hop to a couple of different floors for my amusement. I could get used to this.

Stealing myself away from my fun, I focus myself. I need to get out of here and find a portal or whatever kind of exit they have here. If I had to be brought here, then the others would need to leave here some way. 

I check for the writing on the ceiling to see what floor I’m on and it reads 4th Floor . I recall something from earlier.

// …It wasn’t on the 4th like usual. \

On second thought, this may be a good place to start.