He staggered up from the bed, his steps feather-light. Moonlight spilled across his skin, bleaching him pale, almost translucent. He stared at his palms—he could see the floor faintly through them.
"I… I should call Kevin." His voice was a whisper swallowed by the cold.
He stomped toward the door. No sound. The floor gave no echo beneath his weight. He reached for the handle—missed.
His fingers slid through the metal like smoke. His breath hitched. He tried again, more forceful, but the knob dissolved around his hand.
"No… no, no, no…" His brows knitted, teeth grinding. He slammed his fist against the wood—only to watch it vanish through, leaving the door untouched.
A pulse of dread hollowed out his chest.
"Wait…" The word scraped out of his throat.
He leaned forward. The door engulfed him. His body stiffened as a cold pressure slithered through his chest, sliding over his ribs, brushing places that should never be touched.
He stumbled out the other side, shuddering. His arms clutched his torso as though to keep himself whole. "It felt like… something passed through me…" His voice cracked. "Inside me…"
He straightened with effort—one more door.
The next barrier swallowed him whole. Darkness thickened. A muffled sound broke the silence—soft, steady. Breathing. Snoring.
V's head snapped toward the bed. Kevin slept soundly, oblivious. V's body loomed over him, trembling.
"Sorry about this… Please… just let this work…" His fist drew back and drove forward.
Nothing.
His hand vanished through Kevin's body, skin fizzing with a slick, nauseating resistance. The hairs on his arms prickled upright.
"Ahhh—!" V staggered back, breath ragged, his chest heaving as though something clung to him still. His knees hit the floor.
The silence pressed in, and he could still feel it: the echo of warmth, soft and wet, clinging to his hand where there should have been nothing at all.
He stood alone in the hallway, eyes drifting toward Eve's door.
"...I'd rather not."As he shook his head and phased through his own door. His shoulders sank as he slid to the floor, knees pulled tight against his chest, and eyes pressed onto his kneecaps.
"Am I… stuck like this forever?"
A gust slammed through the window—curtains flailed, twisting in the wind.
The moonlight flared, blinding, hot as day. V threw an arm over his eyes.
"What the—"
The curtains fell still. He lowered his arm, blinking through the glare. Outside, the world was… off.
Cold.
The light outside burned blue. Streetlamps shimmered with a glassy glow, buildings painted in the same ghostly hue.
The warmth from before vanished.
No bark. No hum. No sound.
Just—nothing.
V swallowed—dry. He leaned out the window. Silence. Not even wind.
The air pressed in, hollow and thin.
He climbed out. His feet hit the ground—no crunch, no dust.
He crouched, brushing the pavement—A squeak.
He froze, glancing at the ground, then dragged his fingers—Another squeak.
"Is this… glass?"
He rose slowly, scanning the street. Every surface gleamed with a faint sheen. Even the bricks shimmered as if sealed under ice.
"Everything looks solid, but…" He pressed his palm to a wall—cold, real. "How am I touching all this?"
The hairs on his neck prickled.
Then—
A smell.
Rot crept in, faint at first. Sweet, metallic. Then it thickened—sharp sulfur, wet iron.
V staggered back, covering his nose. "Where's that—ugh—coming from?"
He gagged, choking on air that felt alive.
The stench crushed him. His knees hit the glass ground. His chest convulsed, bile climbing up his throat.
Tears streaked down his face as his palms clawed at his shirt.
The world swam.
"Guh—Ah—"
He dropped sideways, breath cut short. The air around him pulsed, cold and heavy.
Step…
Soft, bare feet tapped closer. Each step rippled through the silence.
They stopped beside him.
A voice—low and sweet, broken.
"...Liar."
V's eyes shot open. His lungs heaved, air stuttering in and out.
"Wha… what the hell is… going on…"
He coughed, gripping his trembling knees as he forced himself upright. The back of his hand wiped across his lips, smearing saliva and sweat.
A sharp tingle ran up his spine—like a centipede crawling beneath his skin.
He spun around.
Darkness.
The buildings—gone. The stench—gone. The moonlight—gone.
Only void. A thick, swallowing black.
"I… I need to—"
His voice caught. His eyes widened as his trembling fingers brushed his throat.
He pushed the air out again, harder this time, veins straining across his neck. Nothing.
"Why… why can't I hear myself?"
Sweat beaded and rolled down his face. He pressed a palm to his chest. The rhythm thumped beneath his skin—yet he couldn't feel it.
The beat pounded faster, echoing against his ribs like a fist.
Slap.
His palm cracked against his cheek, leaving a red sting behind.
"Keep your head cool," he muttered—silent words, visible only in the tremor of his lips.
He stared into the black ahead. Even without light, he could make out the faint outline of his own body. His right foot shifted forward.
No sound.
He walked.
Each step vanished into the silence, his only company the cold that clung to his skin.
"How long has it been?... How far have I walked?..."
Pain pricked under his feet, sharp as thorns. His toes curled, then straightened under will alone.
From time to time, a warm breath clouded the air before fading away.
"Is it cold?... I can't even tell."
His voice still made no sound.
"I don't even know where I'm going. My feet hurt… my back hurts…"
His knees buckled. He collapsed, the pop of his toe joints breaking the silence inside his mind. The pain eased for a heartbeat—but not enough.
Half-lidded eyes drifted forward.
Then widened.
The streetlamp cast its warmth over the pavement.
V lunged forward, snapping the last two nails on his toes. He staggered to a stop—right at the edge where the light touched the ground.
His chest heaved. Then, a step forward. Another. He entered the light.
His smile faltered.
Lowering his head, he stared at his trembling fingers. They had turned pale—drained, ghostly.
His knees buckled. "I… can't feel anything."
Tears fell, pattering onto the warm pavement. He didn't even feel them leave his eyes. The edges of his vision blurred.
Liar.
The hairs on his nape rose.
V's head jerked left.
A centipede.
Crawling into the light before coming to a halt. Its antennas waved around before turning forward, heading into the dark abyss. V's eyes follow it like a hawk.
The centipede crept into the alleyway dressed in red light. V's eyes remained locked on it. "This wasn't here before…"
He gripped his knee, just as he tried to stand—Snap
His big toe snapped, planting his face on the pavement. He tilted his head, gazing into the alleyway as his hand reached out—" Damn it…"
The scene shifts.
Hardwood floor—chipped planks.
V squirmed under the spotlight. He glanced up—SLAM!
His head snapped forward, staring into the dark. Silence seeped back in. His eyes twitched at the sight of a boom stand, the mic's cord vanishing into the void.
A whisper grazed his ear—"Are you there?"
The skin on his nape crawled. His head jerked side to side, chasing voices that slipped through the dark.
Chains clattered.
"This is… so unfair"
"Is he there?"
"Why is this happening to me?"
"M-Mom?... Where are you?"
"He's abandoned us, hasn't he?"
"You're there… right?"
The whispers bled together—growing louder, desperate. His veins pulsed, his eyes heavy as he scanned the black.
A whimper broke through the noise.
The chains fell still.
"Wh-who is it—"
A barrage of screams tore through his ears. He clutched them tight as his knees slammed against the ground. His body vibrated, the shrieks pressing him down like a storm.
"ACK—"
His fingertips—drenched in blood.
V's ears rang, yet beneath the ringing, he swore he could hear a broken-down piano from afar, playing along with the screams.
His pupils jittered like trapped insects, too afraid to look anywhere but the ground. He pressed his palms harder against his head—like a vice crushing in.
"You lied… promised… our home. Lied—killed—sewed and torn… faces together. Killer… why. In Hell—pay us back—promised protection. Fed—nurtured—lied—used. Flesh… used. Loved?—skinned. Look at—us."
You lied.
The voices slashed at him like sharpened daggers, digging deep into his flesh—yet no blood spilled. He bashed his head against the wooden floor again and again—just a moment of relie—no.
His body curled in, pressed against the hardwood—cold and heavy. The blood from his ears mixed with his tears as they stained the floor. A lump rose in his throat—
"P… please… make it stop…"