The Fallen (first 5 chapters)

The Fallen
Hell. That myth you learned about in Sunday school. The story you were told when you were young to keep you from “sinning.” They described it as the bottomless pit, the eternal flame, the place where transgressors were sent to pay for their wrongdoings. It's a punishment worse than death, pain without end, constantly burning. But what if there was something worse? What if there was a place like hell but on earth, a place where these “creatures” play these endless psychological games with unsuspecting victims. And what for, you may ask. For their own amusement, of course. Why else?
Chapter One
I awoke slowly from a sleep that I could not remember falling into. My mind crawling out of a thick fog, I tried to remember the events that had brought me here. Despite my attempts to prevent it, I had arrived at the perilous state of confusion (the first stage of panic.) With a deep breath, I went to open my eyes, only to realize that they were already open. I was laying in darkness so pitch black that it was almost impossible to tell the difference.
Although my senses were limited, I had the overwhelming feeling that the boundaries of my confinement were freakishly close. The need for me to know just how close seemed consuming. I went to put my hands out in front of me to find out, but I stopped short. I couldn’t seem to pull my hands from my sides. I twisted my wrists around to try to break my restraints. Rope, thick rope at that.
It was with my attempts to free my hands that I realized that there were also restraints around my ankles and also one across my forehead. Why had I not noticed these before? My senses seemed to be untrustworthy at this point. This realization was compiled on top of the fact that despite the entire ruckus I know I had been making it was deathly silent. I was aware but unable to sense anything at the same time.
I fought back the feeling of panic. My stomach twisted into unbearable knots. I felt my breath start to quicken as my heart rate sped up. The anxiety seemed to over take me. ‘I must get control of my self but how can I when the paranoia of how close my limitations are is telling me their closer,’ I thought to myself.
Twisting and turning so hard to free myself of the bondage, I imagine that I appeared as though I were having a violent seizure. I stopped momentarily, feeling breath on the back of my neck. How could I? I could have sworn that I was lying on some sort of bedding. This sent me into more violent attempts to free myself.
Suddenly, I heard this high-pitched sound. It’s so loud, almost like it’s on full blast surround sound in my ears. It hurt, making me cry out in pain as I attempted to cover my ears. The infernal ring was unbearable.
“Make it stop,” I cried out unsure who I was commanding. My cries were completely drowned out by the escalating noise. ‘It’s so loud’ I thought to myself. That’s the only coherent thought that I could sort out. It was hard to think of anything else.
I yelled out in surprise as everything lit up. The light was stunningly bright and white, making it impossible to see anything in the room. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for the darkness. The sudden change was painful. I went back to fighting my restraints, only to fall forward onto my knees as though they were never there.
My hands finally made it to my ears but they did little to soften the sound. I felt as though my eardrums were bleeding, about to burst. Hot tears started to stream down my face from how tightly I had my eyes closed.
I curled into a ball practically rocking back and forth, silently begging for it to stop. Then, all of a sudden, just as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

Chapter Two
I breathed deeply trying to regain my breath. The frantic panic I had been thrown into left me more confused than ever. With the constant changes my surroundings had been taking, I wasn’t sure if it was real or imaginary. It seemed more logical to think that it was a dream; a nightmare. I reached to think of a dream as real as this but my mind failed miserably at the task. Would it be a far stretch of the imagination to think I was under the influence of drugs? I’m pretty sure this would be considered a “bad trip.”
“Does that make me a figment of your imagination then,” inquired a voice that sounded stunningly close.
My eyes darted around the room looking for the man the words came from. I didn’t see anyone. I hugged my knees close. Maybe I was going insane.
“That’s exactly what you are; a figment of my imagination,” I muttered to myself.
“You must be a very creative person to make me up; genius really,” the man whispered what seemed to be right in my ear. A soft laugh echoed around me.
I squeezed my eyes shut tight as I tried to think myself logically through the situation. ‘If this is all in my head, what is my subconscious trying to tell me?’ I looked up trying to shake the uneasy feeling I had been harboring.
“Did that shadow just move,” I asked myself out loud.
“Oh so now I’m just a shadow? That’s not very creative,” replied the man stepping out from his hiding spot.
‘How had I not seen him there?’ I looked the man over, taking every aspect in. He didn’t appear to be very old, late twenties, early thirties maybe. His hair was shaggy and blonde, slicked back and from what I could tell he was sporting some five o’clock shadow.
He made his way slowly toward me, looking me over as well. I felt like he was circling me. I wanted nothing more than for this to all be my imagination. I clenched my eyes shut letting my forehead rest on my knees. I attempted to ignore the feeling of his looming presence over me. I didn’t need to look up to know he was standing right in front of me. Despite my qualms I had this overwhelming feeling to look up at him anyway. Something in the back of my mind was telling me to look up over and over again. So with reluctance I looked up just as he was squatting down to my level.
“So are you going to stay here by yourself, or shall we do some exploring,” he smirked standing to his feet with a bit of a bounce.
Chapter Three
I followed the strange man through what seemed to be a maze of halls. His stride was long and slightly difficult to keep up with but he kept it with little effort. ‘Where is he taking me,’ I asked myself still trying to discern my surroundings.
“Taking implies that I’m using force, leading seems like a more appropriate term,” he said as though reading my mind.
Maybe he was reading my mind. Maybe he could hear every thought that passed through my mind. I laughed softly at my conclusion. I must be crazy to think a person could read minds. No human being can hear what a person is thinking. Then again, this is assuming that the person I’m following is even human. He looks human, at least from what I can tell. I heard a soft snicker from in front of me.
“Okay then, where are you leading me,” I asked with slight irritation in my voice.
The man didn’t bother to so much as glance back at me. I got the sense that if he would have responded to my statement he would have said something to the effect of ‘why do I need to tell you, when I can simply show you.” With this thought in mind, I determined that now was not the proper time for questions.
His pace seemed to quicken as he rounded a corner and before too long I realized that the man had disappeared. I had yet to decide whether or not this was a good or bad thing. I was left to rely on my senses which seemed to be working just fine once more. Stopped in the middle of the hallway, I took a moment to gather my surroundings. It was dimly lit but from what I could see it seemed like some sort of storage facility; a warehouse maybe? At this point, where I was didn’t seem quite as important as how I was going to escape. Questions like who, where, and why could be answered later.
I took a step forward but stopped suddenly. ‘Music,’ I questioned myself as I strained to hear what sounded to be a piano. The sound was drawing me backwards to where I had come from. Slowly, I started back in that direction, the music becoming clearer and defined as I neared a door. ‘I don’t remember seeing a door,’ I thought to myself, my face scrunched up in confusion. Maybe my eyes aren’t as trustworthy as I thought, but then again I was following that man so intently, I could have missed it. Couldn’t I?
The music drifted out into the hallway, much clearer now that I was standing in front of the door. I placed my hands on the wood of the door, pressing my ear against it to get a better listen. Maybe the person on the other side could help me?
I recognized the tune they were playing, “Piet Chein.” I had never heard it played so fluently. It was one of my favorite classical pieces, but I was never sure enough of the notes to play it the whole way through at the proper speed.
I grasped the cold brass knob in my hand, waiting for the piece to end before I would interrupt. I turned the knob, slipping quietly into the room, closing the door behind me. The room was slightly larger than the room I had been in earlier, but it looked practically identical. In the far corner was a large grand piano, at which sat a woman.
Her back was turned to me, as she took a break from her beautiful playing, to sip at a small china cup. Possibly filled with tea, I would assume. The woman was tall and slender, her hair piled in a fancy bun atop her head. It was a light chocolate brown that curled slightly at the ends. She appeared dainty, but she was not in the least. Having not even spoken to her yet, I could feel her aura of strength. Her presence was prominent and she came off as a strong individual.
“You play beautifully,” I complimented, unsure how else to go about speaking to her.
She spun around calmly. It appeared as though she was not startled at all, almost as if she were expecting me. She smiled slightly, inviting me to come closer. Her eyes were a dark green, very penetrating, intimidating.
“Piet Chein,” I inquired confidently as I moved closer.
“Was it,” she volleyed back in her strong British accent, standing to her feet.
“Maybe I was mistaken,” I felt compelled to say, correcting myself, considering the possibility that I could have been mistaken. Doubtful, but it occasionally happens.
The woman circled around me; it was if she was studying me. Her eyes like swords piercing right through me. After a few moments it gave me this overwhelming feeling of self consciousness. Was there something wrong? I subtly looked around to see if she was possibly looking at something else. When that attempt came up dry, I started to try to pick out what it was that she seemed so fixated on. Was there something about me that bothered her? This only brought more frustration.
“Do you know how I got here…where I’m at,” I asked hoping for some clue that could help.
“Don’t you,” she inquired scrunching her face up in mock confusion. I contemplated the question for a moment surprised.
“Why would I ask if I already knew the answer to the question?”
“You asked about the song I was playing. You seemed quite certain about that when you asked,” She snapped in a way that sort of reminded me of how a nanny would reprimand a child.
She had a made a valid point. I had started off our interaction with a question that I obviously knew the answer to. But I had no idea how I had gotten here. I definitely didn’t know where I was. At least, I didn’t believe I did. All I could remember was waking up in that darkness trapped. I thought back to that moment, remembering how untrustworthy my senses had been. Is it possible that I do in fact know?
“Why won’t you tell me,” I ask pushing for an answer despite the conflict that had been created in my head.
“You shouldn’t assume things dear. I don’t believe I ever said I wouldn’t tell you the answers to your questions,” she replied straightening out the few wrinkles in her skirt, not even bothering to look up.
I had never seen someone so calm and collected. Nothing seemed to faze her. Most people might have gotten defensive but she continued to interact with me as though I was a child; the entire time, keeping her “prim and proper” composure.
“Look. I need your help. If I ever plan on getting out,”
“How will knowing where you are or how you got here help you at all,” she interrupted.
This question made me freeze in place. Maybe she was right. I was concerning myself with irrelevant matters. Or was I? Maybe it’s all just a run-around tactic. I was having a hard time fighting the urge to doubt every thought that crossed my mind. Why did I keep second guessing myself?
“Maybe you should start asking the right questions, if you wish to get the right answers.”
Chapter Four
It had been several hours since the woman and I had exchanged words. I still had yet to leave the room. I felt kept there by something. She intrigued me and I was determined to get the answers that I wanted from her.
She had since returned to playing the piano. From my seat on the far wall, I watched her. I don’t know what I was expecting to see. My gut told me to wait and see that I’m not wasting my time, but I found it hard not to question the instinct.
I rose from my spot on the floor and made my way over to the piano. I opened my mouth to speak but quickly retracted the action as her words echoed back in my head. What did she mean by the right questions? It was then that I realized that I had skipped over the most obvious question.
“Who are you,” I asked, feeling confident that that is what she meant by the right questions, but my confidence soon faded once more as she gave her response.
“Do you really want to know who I am? Because an answer like that requires much detail, explanation. To know who a person is, you must know them from beginning to end. That sort of catching up could take a while…” she paused, “would you like to reconsider your question?”
I clenched my fists in frustration, an attempt to contain my anger.
“I meant what is your name?”
“Did you? If that’s what you meant, that’s what you should have asked. It’s not my job to read between the lines deary,” she paused, leaned closer and whispered, “that’s yours.”
I slammed my fist into the wall next to me, feeling the anger start to boil over. I couldn’t stand the constant questioning. Why could she not just answer my questions? The woman stood up, her face scrunched up into a scowl of disapproval. I spun around, looking her dead in the eye. They had changed. They still had flecks of green but they were turning black. They looked cold and dark like the peak of a storm.
“Your outrage is a sign of weakness,” she said taking a step towards me. I stepped back towards the corner, increasingly intimidated by what seemed to be her growing stature.
“You should learn to control it,” she whispered leaning in toward my ear.
It made me shiver. The sheer tone of her voice was intimidating. I started to feel like I had made a terrible mistake by showing my anger. My attempts to respond came out in a sputtered jumble of words. She leaned in making intense eye contact with me, her hands on either side of me, her arms confined me to the place she had me cornered.
I grew silent, unable to form a complete sentence in my head. She intimidated me to the point where I wasn’t sure of anything I could say. Every word I could think of brought the possibility of retaliation from the woman.
As I attempted to bring my mind down from the frantic overdrive that it was currently in, the woman backed up a step giving me a small smile. It was slightly creepy. Not the smile itself but the fact that her demeanor could change so quickly. I questioned whether or not I could let my guard back down. I stared deep into her eyes. Had my eyes been playing tricks on me? I could have sworn her eyes had turned into a stormy black but they were now the deep green they had been when I met her.
“What’s your name,” I just barely whispered. My eyes were wide with fear. But it wasn’t the kind of fear you would think. It was a fear of being wrong. It was a fear of whether or not every decision I made was the right one. It was new to me. I had never been one to doubt myself, but the longer I stayed in the presence of this woman the more I increasingly doubted myself. She made me feel the need to carefully select every word I uttered.
“Juliana,” she said without hesitation gazing down at the piano keys, her fingers softly hitting a few stray notes.
“Why couldn’t you tell me that before,” I asked wincing at my own words regretting that I didn’t word it more respectfully as to not anger her again.
“You didn’t ask,” she replied, a hint of a mocking tone in her voice.
I didn’t even bother to argue despite the fact that the comment made me livid. I had indeed asked her. Hadn’t I? I told her that I meant that I was asking her name. But then again I had phrased that as a statement. Was she really going to be that technical? She was a very straightforward person. I guess to her it was only logical to want me to be just as specific.
I started to get the feeling that maybe it was time for me to make an exit and move on in my journey to escape. I glanced over at the door wondering if Juliana would run after me if I bolted for the door. Why did it seem so far away? I could remember the room being so much smaller. Was it because of it being white? Maybe it was just appearing larger because of that. But then why did it seem so small when I had arrived?
As she sat back down on the bench and began to play once more, I backed slowly towards the door. Then, I sprinted full speed towards the door, but something stopped me. Something in my head told me to stop, a voice saying it softly. It was almost like a whisper in my head. Was it Juliana? It sounded like her. I went to turn but she was still at the piano playing away.
‘Sleep,’ I could hear her voice whisper but there was no way I would have heard a whisper that soft over the music. I tried to push it out of my head as I grabbed for the door knob. My eye lids felt so heavy. Why couldn’t I fight the sensation? I struggled to keep my eyes opened but soon I collapsed to the floor. I don’t even remember hitting the ground.
Chapter Five
I had to have been knocked out for at least a good couple hours. You know how when you sleep and it seems like the time went so quickly, the sleep that I experienced was nothing like that. It felt like it took an eternity, but I strangely had no desire to wake up from it. I feared that I would wake up back in that dreadful place I had last time. The notion was not appealing in the least.
Almost the entire time I saw nothing but black. It was darkness similar to what I had woken up in at the beginning of my time in this hell hole. This darkness was slightly different though. I oddly did not fear the possibilities of what could be around me. It was an odd feeling of peace, like I was beginning to touch the tip of the iceberg on an impenetrable truth.
I didn’t understand it. What was it that I was supposed to get from this experience? What was the intent of those who had put me here? For some reason, I didn’t get the impression that they meant me harm. While their will may not be entirely good, something in the back of my mind told me that it was for a greater purpose. I hesitated to trust this notion. I couldn’t trust anything at this point. Every sense I possessed seemed to be unreliable.
“Is it your senses, or is it you,” a voice questioned. I couldn’t differentiate who it was. Was it that strange man? Was it Juliana? Maybe it was just my own subconscious. Either way, I didn’t like the mere suggestion of the statement.