Screams of men echoed through the vast corridors, the sounds bouncing from each previously white wall to the other as if they were dancing with the aid of the ringing of an alarm.
Flashing red lights flickered on and off in an unsteady rhythm, revealing various puddles of blood and organs scattered along the walls.
Corpses of human men in white lab coats were hung up by their intestines to the ceiling like decorations.
Only a few were intact, with the ones nearest to the entrance of the corridor seemingly being devoured, with only parts of their legs and cracked bones visible.
At the end of the corridor, near a flashing yellow sign that read:
'EXIT'
Stood a child with short, light blonde hair drenched in blood from head to toe--- next to him stood another child.
He had dark brown hair and tan skin. He was holding the other child's hands while shaking profusely.
A hand brushed on the tan child's face, causing him to flinch until he noticed it was the blonde child.
The hand was cold, even though they were coated in fresh blood.
It was hard for the tan boy to pick his head up from the ground, but the hand guided him to face towards the blonde child.
A disturbing smile was plastered on the blonde child's face; his teeth were stained with blood.
"We're free."
The ringing didn't stop; it got louder as the tan child heard these words. He tried to look away from the other child's face, but he couldn't.
"What about mama?"
His voice was shaky and high-pitched as if he wasn't sure if he was allowed to ask that question.
The blonde child slightly looked away for but a moment, his false grin slightly giving out.
"She sacrificed herself to save us."
Tears gushed from the tan child's eyes, mixing with the puddle of blood beneath him.
"I'm all you need."
The blonde child paused before continuing.
"And you're all I need; we only have each other."
The tan child looked up at him, trying to hold back the tears that were forcing their way from his eyes earlier. He nodded in agreement.
"Let's go, Jericho."
Taking him by the hand, they opened the exit and walked into a world different from their own.
Jericho sprang up from his bed in a cold sweat, his body shaking and his breath uneven.
He frantically looked around the room he resided in; he wasn't used to the change of scenery.
The floors were clean and lined with nice, fuzzy carpet, and no grotesque bugs were running rampant along the walls and ground.
'Another one of those dreams.'
Ever since Jericho had made it to Jelliel Village, he's been having these recurring nightmares.
Sometimes he'd be getting tests run on him in a lab, other times he was frolicking in artificial grass with other children while looking at a wall with a painted sky and clouds.
He hated these dreams— they felt real.
Jericho gripped his forehead and massaged it in an attempt to soothe his mind.
He sat on the edge of his bed with his other hand gripping the ledge of the bedframe.
It was still dark outside, per usual.
'20-hour days and 20-hour nights, how fun.'
The nights found themselves growing longer ever since the plague.
Jericho got up from his bed and made his way to the bathroom.
In comparison to his old bathroom, this one was cleaned by angels themselves.
It was a plain white bathroom with a dingy sink that didn't spew out gunk, a toilet and a working, clean shower.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror; his face was clean, but still had a green undertone. The bush that used to reside on his face was cut down and shaven, leaving him with a clean chin and mouth.
His hair flowed down from his scalp; it was much shinier and well-kept than before, reaching his shoulders.
An attempt at a smile was made, but it came short; he glared at the reflection. Even though he was clean, he was still a shadow of his past self.
He brushed his teeth and left the bathroom to put on his clothes.
Taking his clothes from their hangers and putting them on, Jericho wore a dark green T-shirt with an odd critter plastered on the middle of it. His pants were baggy black sweats.
Jericho looked at the blindfold that lay at the bottom of the closet, sighing before putting it on with his hair hanging over the piece of cloth.
His eyes were different in ways other than colour; they could see things others couldn't and also see through small cloths.
Having gotten ready for the day, or well, the night.
Jericho left his little hut and ventured out onto the streets of Jelliel Village.
Outside, there were various huts lined along the street leading up to a hill with a spiralling staircase that led to the chief's headquarters.
The street lights were on, and the night was still; silence filled the empty street.
Traversing through the village, Jericho walked down the street towards a small hut similar to his own.
He knocked on it in a specific rhythm.
Bang, ba, bang, bang, ba, ba, bang.
For no reason at all, Jericho just liked this rhythm.
Jericho stood in front of the door, awaiting an answer.
A loud groan invaded Jericho's ears, startling him due to the previous silence.
The door opened, revealing Etsy, who was yawning and rubbing her eyes as if she'd just woken up.
She wore a baggy white T-shirt with her tail sticking out of it, and shorts that were covered by the shirt.
"Why ya always up so early?"
Jericho hesitated before opening his mouth and looking away
Etsy quickly caught on; her expression softened as she examined Jericho.
"Ah, alright, come in."
She yawned as she spoke, stretching her arms out while turning around, inviting Jericho inside.
"Sit here while I get ready."
Jericho plopped down on the couch near a TV, patiently waiting for Etsy to finish up in the bathroom.
The TV was off, leaving the room as silent as the desolate streets, with the only sound breaking the silence being the sounds of water smacking against the floor from Etsy's shower.
It was a restless wait. Jericho was lost in his thoughts, pondering on the recurring dreams that he'd been having.
'Who was that blonde child? Why were they in a facility? Why had all the men been killed?'
He had so many questions but no answers.
Etsy burst out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head. She had a toothbrush hanging from her mouth and was wearing a different white tee than from earlier; it was partially damp.
"Ya ready?"
Jericho nodded before scooting over, inviting her to sit.
She leapt onto the couch, almost breaking it from the impact.
"So you've been having those same dreams, huh?"
Etsy inquired, looking at Jericho with a worried expression on her face.
Jericho averted his eyes from hers before answering.
"Yeah."
She inched closer to Jericho and took his hand. Her scaly hands were rough and cold, of course, but they also felt warm, as if the hands used for bashing in the heads of foes also had the power to soothe and comfort.
"Tell me what you dreamed about this time?"
His mouth hesitantly opened as sweat trickled from his forehead.
"I was at an exit. It looked like some sort of facility, and—"
He stopped before finishing, looking choked up as if his tongue were cut out of his mouth.
"The hallway was covered in blood and riddled with bodies of men in suits throughout it…"
The room grew silent for a few seconds, and Etsy was attentively listening to him, staring at him with her brows curled downwards.
Jericho opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, but again it felt as if something was pulling on his heart, preventing his voice from escaping his body.
"Was that all?"
Etsy asked with her hand still resting on Jericho's.
His eyes shot towards Etsy for but a second, then instantly looked away back down at the floor.
"Yes."
It became increasingly hard to breathe; the air felt solid, as if it had thorns that would cut his throat whenever he tried to inhale.
"Well, do you think that maybe these dreams are memories?"
There it was, the thing Jericho never wanted to hear. He knew it was a possibility, a very likely possibility, but he didn't want to acknowledge that.
"No way."
Etsy's eyebrows raised before looking around the room, thinking.
"Why not?"
Jericho's head began to move while looking down in sporadic intervals.
"Just no."
"Last time 'ya told me that you couldn't remember anything about 'yer childhood, then 'ya come and tell me that you've been having dreams about you as a child that all link together don't 'ya th—"
"They are just dreams!"
Jericho's sudden interjection left Etsys eyes wide open and her the corner of her cheek raised.
Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at Jericho with confusion and a small bit of anger.
"What the hell is wrong with ya, I'm just tryna help!"
Jericho got up from the couch and trotted out of the house without another word, slamming the door behind him, leaving Etsy on the couch in disbelief of the sudden outburst.
"Why was Mister so mad?"
Tsuki was tugging on Etsy's shirt; it seemed the commotion had woken her up.
Etsy looked down at her with a wistful expression; the corners of her mouth seemed to be fighting not to be pulled down.
"I dunno, Tsuki."
The sun peeked out from the east of the skyline, a glimpse of light brightened the dark ever so slightly.
At a bench atop one of the hills within the village, there was a nice, cold breeze that brushed against Jericho's face— he flinched, remembering what a gust of wind meant last time.
The sunrise illuminated the sky, meshing with the darkness to paint the sky in a soft amber colour.
'I hate it here.'
Jericho sat on the bench, ignoring his dreams and their meaning in fear of the realisation that his past could be even more bloodstained than it already was.