Day 55

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

"AUGHHH—!" I jerked so violently that all my bed sheets came flying off. My face was flushed red with blood, and I felt pain in unbound regions. I couldn't control my breathing, especially not after what I'd just experienced. In my previous loop, I was running from the man and his black mask, back and forth throughout the entirety of the manor, in attempt to outrun his pursuit. But I couldn't. He was always up to pace with me, and always directly behind me. There was even one point where I swore I only heard a single pair of feet running. He'd ran up to par with my speed so evenly that our footsteps had become synchronized. It was jaw-dropping, but also terrifying.

"Fuck!" I'd yell as I realize I wasn't gaining any distance on him. He never got further, nor closer, he was just always right on my tail. The only reason he caught up eventually was because I couldn't breathe anymore. It was his stamina that outran me. When I was caught by the wind, I dropped to the floor, heaving for more energy so I could escape his grasp, but it was too late. He grabbed my ankles as tried to pick myself up, and soon I was on my stomach being pulled towards him.

"NOO!!!" I'd scream as I saw the floor move away from me. Next thing I knew, I was impaled brutally into an untouched area between my legs.

"AGHHHHHH!!!" I shook my head and held my crotch with traumatic pain, squinting my eyes to avoid the sight of what I remembered, only for it to become more visualized in my mind. I wanted this all to end, so, so, badly. 55 loops and counting, and I was still stuck in this never-ending loop. I could barely even think of anything anymore. I've had numerous loops in attempt to hide from the man. I've hidden under my bed, in my closet, in the shower, in the kitchen drawers, even in the hidden attic, but he always comes and finds me no matter where I am, and no matter whether I make noise or not. I have three floors to the manor, and I've hidden in every single hiding spot possible, other than the basement. He'd always find me wherever I go. So I tried to flee from him, and escape him. But running away in a chase doesn't work, because I always end up too tired to continue running. Even having a head start would always end up with me getting caught. There were a few instances where I ran out to the backyard, but the winter cold air would make my muscles tense, and I'd freeze up on the spot. The rest of the story from there is obvious—a pool of red snow. So I chose to avoid leaving the manor entirely, because the outdoor freezing environment would always best me when I least expect it.

Tap.

The recognizable sound fell upon my window; a raven sat upon its still. It looked right into my irises with the same freezing glare that I always saw through that deep black mask. I felt that the two were somehow related.

Flap, flap, flap.

The raven took off, ascending into the chilly white sky from which snowflakes rained. Following the heavenly partition, a knock from hell pounded my bedroom door.

"He's here…"

The terrifying image of all my past deaths emerged from my mind, merging into an abomination of horror-gore reflections of each loop. I was struck with an unprecedented amount of fear, paralyzed by the urge to vomit if I moved a single muscle, and trembling from the cold air that constantly circulated my room, as if the ghosts of my past passings continued to roam my leftover sanctuary.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

It mattered not whether I locked my door. Either way the door was going to bust down, or the hinges would come flying off. There was no lesser more fortunate outcome, and that's because nothing stood between the man and I. No mere distance, nor sheer amount of walls could separate this apparent thread that connected the two of us. Wherever I went, he followed. If something were to obstruct our connection, it was to be immediately taken out of the way. My perpetrator prioritized our connection, ensuring there was never a severance between us two. It felt like severance was impossible anyways, because he'd always come face-to-face with me in the end. Those cold, cold hazel eyes. They were the same color as mine, which was a detail I'd nearly forgotten. My daily routine went from washing my face in the mirror to washing my face with blood in his gaze. He became my new reflection, which I abhorred with every inch of my remaining pride.

"I want to die…"

The door blew open, and from within the gust of dust, a sharp pair of scissors lunged forth.

SHANK—!

"No… No, I don't want to die—ack!" The pain struck me, and I remembered just how horrible the experience of death was all over again. I previously wished for death, but now that it came, I regretted everything, all of it. This was my cycle, a repetition of death and desire; desire to die, and regret by death.

SHULK—!

He interrupted my tragedy of thoughts with a stab to the stomach, and like always, I dropped to my knees. I'd been in this same pattern of injuries many times before already, so I knew what came next. A knee to the chin which would knock my face towards the ceiling—

THUK—!

—And a vertical slash downwards directly across my face, splitting my nose and each nostril into two perfectly symmetrical halves—

SHLLRK—!

My face peeled open like the first pages of a book, and my eyes fell outwards to the sides like a fish lost at sea; the serration tore the tension in my lips, and my mouth fell into a permanent frown. I sobbed with what remained to be shown, and the tears that fell from my eyes stung the exposing flesh from beneath my skin. This loop was over for me, and so was my will to live all over again. Through the time and time again of death by his mask, maybe I'll admit I've grown some faith in a god. But maybe that faith is nothing more than an illusion of desperation to hope there is a god out there; a god that is listening to the prayers I send out every moment before my death, wishing for my spirit to pass on past this purgatory.

To whichever god is listening to me out there, I plead to you, take me away from this unholy place. That's how they say it, right? Does it even matter anymore? My body is convulsing in a pool of blood as I pray, it'd be best to doubt that I'm part of those who are saved. Maybe I am a sinner atoning for his sins. But I can't even recall any wrong I've ever done.

What did I do to deserve this?

Death.