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damned_institute2012-02-13 06:58 pm
somesoulsearching) wrote in damned_institute2012-02-13 06:58 pm
Nightshift 61: West Wing, North Hall 1-B
[from here]
Had Brook taking his time a bit more, he might have noticed that he was the only one about in any of the hallways he crossed while heading for the second floor. He had always known his block to be a bit less populated than the others, yet had never questioned the matter as it was a good thing - the less people trapped here, the better! Still, it was strange, and on any other night would have warranted both a comment and the subsequent humming that accompanied his strolls whenever he was nervous.
Purpose drove him though, and save for keeping his eye out for any beasts that may come for him, Brook kept his focus trained on getting to the second floor and, he hoped, to his friend in time.
[gone here]
Had Brook taking his time a bit more, he might have noticed that he was the only one about in any of the hallways he crossed while heading for the second floor. He had always known his block to be a bit less populated than the others, yet had never questioned the matter as it was a good thing - the less people trapped here, the better! Still, it was strange, and on any other night would have warranted both a comment and the subsequent humming that accompanied his strolls whenever he was nervous.
Purpose drove him though, and save for keeping his eye out for any beasts that may come for him, Brook kept his focus trained on getting to the second floor and, he hoped, to his friend in time.
[gone here]
no subject
More darkness awaited him. Naturally. Hope swallowed thickly and peered down at his flashlight, drawing in another deep breath and secretly wishing he could draw in some strength along with it.
The door shut behind him, louder than he thought it would be, and the boy's heart was in his throat. All of the air in his lungs seemed to leave him at once, and he ran forward through a burst of fear-driven adrenaline. This corridor seemed wider than the last, and empty: he saw no doors before or beside him, only an endless path of black.
After several paces Hope calmed himself, reminded that it was he who had closed the door in the first place— but the noise was unsettling enough in the stark silence, and he didn't want to get caught. He already felt like he'd moved too far, and did not want to start again.
Light... I wish you were here.
His head whipped this way and that, casting careful glances over his shoulder as he hurried onward. The hand not busy with guiding the flashlight (and therefore, his path) met the flat of a wall and he huddled against it, grateful for some kind of solidity, something tangible. There was no sound but his own shuffling little footsteps, echoing impossibly loud in his own ears. Hope's heart was beating so solidly in his chest that he could practically hear it beneath the sound of his own breathing.
He hadn't been sure of just how much time had passed there, endlessly moving, not stopping once – not even to catch his own breath. In his mind, stopping meant getting caught, getting killed. If cornered, he would fight, but Hope wasn't sure how many guards he could take down on his own. And so he remained alert, checking behind him every so often, never wanting to be caught unaware in any direction. Past or before him.
Finally the hall seemed to come to an end, and there was another door, similar to the one he'd come across. A brief irrational fear that he somehow came back around to the same place took hold, but Hope shook it off, knowing it was his own mind playing tricks on him. They wanted him to feel powerless, afraid, surrounded with no future in sight. That was their game.
It had to be.
With a creak, the door was pushed open. Hope no longer felt surprised that it was unlocked, and simply moved onward. Cold trickled in and brushed his face, telling him there was something more beyond this one.
He entered, and did not look back.
[To here.]