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The day started as any other; as mall breakfast, some coffee, and I head off to work. Nothing was out of the ordinary and I didn't feel like it should be. I was driving at my usual precaution of not giving a damn, but at the expense of being early, I stopped by the gas station on the way, got a drink, and walked out. As I stood there, sort of slowly making my way to the car, I saw three different homeless men with cups. The first man had, by far, the most money. Written on his cup was the word 'wish.'
The man with the second most had a cup with the word 'end.' And last with certainly least, (seeing he had no money) was a man with the word 'repeat' written on his cup. I was feeling generous, and helpful, and put a ten dollar bill in his cup. The man stood up, sort of smiled, and thanked me with every gesture he knew. He took the ten dollars and bought some food and some water. I, of course, felt really nice knowing he didn't use it to buy something like alcohol or cigarettes. I went on my way to work, surprisingly still getting there a few minutes early. I made a face, shrugged, and went to my office. I put in my ear buds and went to work. I guess working at what I do is some what of an advantage; I can listen to my music and not be bothered.
I sometimes feel like every day is the same, and others are different. My day seemed to be going fine until I was smacked upside the head and woke up in my bed; entirely like I restarted the whole day.
The only difference was that the amount of people seemed to decrease by so much. The worst part is that no one seemed to realize I exist. They'd grunt or something, and some of them jumped, but I hadn't had a decent conversation with anyone in a long time. When I got home, my stuff was being moved out, but the TV was still in, and it was on the news. The were talking about a missing person's report... MY missing person's report... Apparently it's been a month since anyone's seen me. I felt confused and misguided... I went ahead and took it upon myself to take a nap, seeing as I didn't have work and I was exhausted.
When I woke up, well, everything was dark. I could smell wood and dirt. As quickly as I woke up, I passed back out and woke up in what seemed like a hospital, and there were people ogling my like a mere infant child. I felt another rush and I blacked out, coming to in a strange place, some what similar to my house that I'm unaware if I even own anymore. I'm wearing pajamas similar to my previous ones, in the room similar to my previous one, and in the bed similarly decorated to my previous one. Things felt wrong, but I got up, turned the TV on, and said hello to my... Wife? I was unaware I had one of those, as well.
As I was walking out, I tripped, went unconscious, and started the vicious cycle again, except I ended in what I could only Assume was the fiery pits of hell... This all seems so... Generic? Of one of those terrible horror stories. I didn't know what to do, or where to go... I walked and walked and walked, finally arriving to an (of course) out of place house.
As I knocked, the door was ajar, and I made my way in. The air conditioning felt nice, but the house was empty. I sat down and relaxed, surprisingly easy to do. As I leaned back, I noticed how familiar the room I was in was... It sort of reminds me of the house I grew up in as a child. All the wholes in the walls, even the door. The only difference is the walls, the walls are a red colour. Not like blood, but more like a rose colour. I heard something in another room, and I walked to investigate.
In the dinning room was my step mum, my father, and my step mum's brats. I hated the two older ones, but I love the baby. My step mum stood up, walked to the baby, and picked him up. In one swift movement, she threw the baby across the room, and everyone joined in clapping as she kind of bowed, proud of what she did. I was on the verge of tears.
See, even though I was a young teenager when they moved in, I loved that baby as if he was my blood. I had to sit there and witness them pick him apart and eat his insides. I stood there, perfectly still, partially because I was so shocked I couldn't move, partially because I feel like if I move I would be brutally murdered. I slowly tried to make my way out, but blood from my nose dripped on the floor and they immediately turned to me, and at that point, I ran. I ran faster and harder than I ever have. I ran until my lungs felt like they were on fire.
I finally collapsed and vomited, and eventually blacking out. When I came to, I was in the same spot in hell as I was the first time, and I found the house again, and I went through everything again and again, damned to repeat that moment until the hellish representation of my old family catches me and tears my lungs out through my rib cage and leaves me to die.