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Ba-thump... Ba-thump... Ba-thump

Chire’s heart beat like a drum against his rib cage. It was all he could hear. And all he could do to distract himself was close his eyes as the beating got louder and louder.

Ba-thump

Ba-thump

Ba-thump

It only took a few extra minutes of waiting for the woman to come back with a single glass bowl and a spoon on a tray in hand. The coldness of the bowl startled him when it touched the skin of his neck. Chire’s eyes widened in surprise, then wrinkled, when he realized it was the same brown liquid as before. He looked back up at her, “Don’t you have anything else?” he asked.

The woman smiled warmly again, the size of her pupils flickering “No.”

The bowl was now in Chire’s hands, and he was sniffing it doubtfully under the covers. Despite the room’s fluffy appearance, it was cold - probably below twenty degrees - and Chire had not one inch of covered skin. Save for the covers he hid in now.

Chire sat the bowl in his lap and adjusted the covers to create more breathing space. He lifted the bowl to his mouth and tentatively sipped a little.

An unfamiliar familiarity washed over him as a sour and sweet taste swept over his tongue. It tickled his brain to the point he laughed. “Why does this taste so…” he began.

Then he remembered.

“How long has it been?” Chire mumbled. He snatched the covers from off his head, stood up, and threw the bowl on the soft carpet with a muffled ‘bang.’ The liquid that would put him back to sleep soaked into the carpet, staining it a dark brown.

The woman was long gone, probably assuming he would be knocked out by now. Chire grabbed a sheet off of the bed and wrapped it around his waist. As the only piece of fabric that resembled clothing in the room, it’d have to do. For now at least.

Chire then treaded lightly across the room to the hung tapestry and pushed it to the side, revealing a broad and shiny mirror. A mirror that would’ve been revealed in grand flair after he’d been too long gone to save. He wasn’t surprised to see his brown eyes that seemed a few shades lighter staring back at him. His short, black hair lay soft with compliance on his head and had a greenish tinge to it, like he’d dyed it that way. Chire pulled up the cover that started the slip past his waist and strode towards the door that the woman exited from earlier. 

His fingers traced the outline of the door with practiced ease. When an almost imperceptible indent caught the tip of his nail, Chire tapped on it three times and the door opened like magic.

And magic it was because now the hallway looked completely different from before. He peeked from the crack and could barely see a thing. Not even his hand he had put in front of him in an attempt to feel what was outside. 

What he felt outside of the door was a different story. His finger glided over something cold and smooth, like cold metal. He let his hand span out and engulf the whole of whatever he touched. It was large and tough and it was moving.

Chire gasped and tried to snatch his hand back in surprise. He wasn’t fast enough.

Chire shuddered as he felt the cold slither of fingers grasp his wrist and pull it along with him into oblivion.