Adrian sat up, gasping, his chest heaving. The air in the Dimensional wasn't air at all—it was thick and electric, filling his lungs like smoke. Every breath scalded.
He tried to stand, but the ground pitched beneath him, folding inward like the surface of a drum being struck. He stumbled and fell to his knees. The surface was slick, wet, and when he pulled his hand away, it gleamed black with static that clung to his skin like oil.
It whispered against his fingertips.
You are not whole.
Adrian shook his hand violently, but the stain didn't vanish. It crawled upward, threading into his arm, pulsing with each heartbeat.
"No—stop—" His voice cracked. His own words came back to him in chorus, whispered by unseen mouths.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
---
He walked, though he didn't know where. The Dimensional didn't have direction—it was all corridors folding into corridors, spirals looping back into themselves, doors that led to hallways that opened into the same doors.
Time fractured. Sometimes it felt like days passed. Other times like only seconds. His stomach growled, but he never starved. His eyes burned, but he never blinked. Sleep never came, though exhaustion pressed on him like lead.
The Dimensional wanted him awake.
It wanted him unraveling.
---
At one turn, Adrian found himself staring at a mirror.
It was massive, stretching floor to ceiling, its surface shimmering like mercury. He staggered closer, drawn to it, desperate for some sign of himself.
And he saw… him.
Not warped. Not spiraled. Just him. Adrian. Pale. Exhausted. But still him.
He nearly wept with relief.
"Please," he whispered. "Please tell me I'm still me."
The reflection nodded. Smiled.
And then didn't stop smiling.
Its lips tore wider, splitting its face into a spiral of teeth. The smile grew and grew until the reflection collapsed inward like a whirlpool, sucking the entire mirror into darkness.
Adrian staggered back, heart slamming against his ribs, but the whisper followed:
You will not be one thing. You will be many.
---
He fled.
But the torment followed him. The spirals bled into everything—walls, floors, even the air. He couldn't look anywhere without seeing the curves, the endless patterns. They wormed into his thoughts, twisting his memories until he couldn't remember what his own mother's voice sounded like, only the whispers.
Adrian. Adrian. Adrian.
Sometimes, he swore the spirals shifted when he wasn't watching. That they were writing themselves into him.
He clawed at his arms, at his chest, but the skin only peeled back to reveal more spirals beneath, carved into his flesh like veins.
He screamed until his throat tore raw, but his scream echoed wrong.
It wasn't a human scream anymore.
---
Eventually, Adrian collapsed, curling on the ground. The surface beneath him rose and fell, as though cradling him, rocking him like a child. He sobbed into the static, shaking, his body twitching as though the Dimensional itself was learning the rhythm of his tears.
And for the first time, he realized the truth.
It didn't want to kill him.
It wanted to keep him.
---