As I'm walking down the neverending hallway, I only now realize how far I've strayed from my initial plans. I haven't gone to meet Cat, let alone greet my neighbors. Though, now that I think about it, there's probably a rule connected to a Stigma that's influencing them. If I were to take a shot in the dark, I'd say that they're not allowed to attack a neighbor that greets them. As for the reason this system is in place, I can't really say. Maybe the manager of this hotel only wants the loyal to survive? What's his plan anyway? Why did he build this place? Did he even build it? How strong must one be to rule over this place like a king? Whatever the case, the fact of the matter is that I have no choice but to give up on my original plan. All I can do now is act on my feet, and try my best to work with Roland. I have no idea whether or not he will betray me, and he's definitely a threat I need to keep an eye on since his mind is unhinged, but he's also a reliable ally.

"At least, I sure hope he's reliable..."

I can't help but mutter under my breath. Yes, I have no choice but to place my trust in Roland, especially right now. After all, I'm currently walking down a dim hallway on floor six. The rules state that I'm not to go to floors higher or lower than five from my own, but I can only assume that that's to allow healthy competition among those with Stigma's. Eating those at your level, rather than feasting on the weak. Even though I doubt the truly strong care about such rules, it's interesting there's such a system in place. Still, it's not like such things will stop me, considering how far I've been up already. As for the reason I'm on floor six, and not floor one, it was actually Roland's humanity that made the call. "I can't kill humans" is what he said. Honestly, he feels nothing when putting a young, attractive woman like me in life-threatening situations, yet can't bear the thought of killing someone with his own hands? I can't help but feel bitter.

The people on floor one to five are called "food". They're farmed like cattle and served in the various facilities spread around the hotel. Being in such a situation, it makes sense why they would be completely insane. Humans are social creatures after all. Making friends with someone, only to learn they had been made into a pie the next day must be a nightmare. At least on floor six, the monsters don't have exceedingly dangerous Stigma's like those on the upper floors have. At most, we'll run into someone around Anna's level, where they have extremely dangerous physical abilities, but won't be able to kill you with a single blink. Roland should be able to handle monsters at that level at least.

I check my inner timer, which I've been using since the start of this adventure. If my mental clock is right, the time right now is 2:55 A.M., nearly there. I go over the layout of the hotel in my head, running through the plan again and again. Hotel Limbo has a strange layout. It's a massive pillar with 140 floors. Each floor has two hallways cutting directly down their middle, vertically and horizontally. At the end of each hallway is a pair of elevators, with stairs next to them. From the hallway to the crossroads in the middle of the floor, there is 50 room on each side, meaning 400 rooms each floor, or in other words, 400 monsters each floor. It's a harrowing thought, but that's not the point that intrigues me. From the way the rooms are set up, that leaves a lot of open space, yes? Why though? Why is the building set up in such an irresponsible manner? From a logical standpoint, the rooms wouldn't have the same amount of space allocated to them, meaning the tenets wouldn't be equal. Not to mention all the rooms I've been inside have had vastly different layouts. Tom's room even has a basement, a horrid place it may be. Just as I feel I'm reaching a kind of understanding, my thoughts slam into a wall, and I immediately fall into a daze. My feet stop, and I stand frozen in place, staring down the dark hallway with dull eyes. Soon I snap awake and rub my head.

"I must be tired. I should have slept longer, Roland be damned."

My body continues onwards, and I once again go over the plan. Jeffrey should be patrolling one of the four stairways at the end of the hallway. My job is to find the correct one, lure him into following me, and ambush him at the crossroads. Roland is already lying in wait, having killed the owner of a nearby room a while back, claiming it as his own. I have no idea when Jeffrey will show up, nor where, so I need to be in the right place at the right time. If I'm too late and I don't get spotted by him, the tenets will come out of their rooms and I'll be surrounded. Unless I'm at the crossroads, I won't be under Roland's protection so I'll most likely die. The thought of being surrounded and getting torn apart causes a spike of fear to stab into my heart, making my feet inevitably quicken. My quiet footsteps grow louder, ringing off the walls. Deeper and deeper I venture, into the neverending darkness. The only source of light is the sapphire glow emanating from the ceiling, like the ocean's frigid depths.

I arrive at the elevator faster than originally planned, about 120 seconds too early. Unsure of what to do, I stand still in contemplation, frozen in thought as to whether I should begin heading to the other elevator or wait. Just as I turn around to make my way back, it happens, just as was explained to me. First, the lights flicker. Then the entire world is bathed in crimson. The instant the clock changes to three, the entire appearance of the hallway switches into one of a nightmare. The floor squishes underneath my shoes, squirting out a black goo from its fleshy surface. The walls throb with veins, a quiet pumping sound can be heard as what I presume to be blood flows from the heart of the building.

The once blue lights are now a deep red like I'm trapped inside the stomach of a beast.

Even though I'm scared out of my mind, I follow my instructions and close my eyes. The game begins now. This is simply the prelude to Jeffrey's entrance, though I doubt he's the one actually causing such a phenomenon. My eyes stay closed as I rhythmically walk down the hallway, arms tight at my sides, stride smooth and even. The constant squish under the shoes I retrieved from my room is revolting, and I feel my skin crawling, like thousands of ants are burrowing into my flesh. My nose is filled with the now-familiar stench of blood, a heavy, irony smell. My breaths grow labored as the humid air gets harder and harder to inhale, growing heavier the deeper I proceed into the floor. It feels like I'm drowning, and I fight my primal instinct of panic. All this, and Jeffrey hasn't even acted yet.

As if on cue, I feel a slight breath brush against my right ear. A heavy noise, like a barely heard whisper. My body trembles as if someone is running a knife down my vertebrae. Nearly opening my eyes out of sheer disgust, it takes every ounce of strength I have to continue in my current state. I cannot stop, no matter what. To stop means to give up my only safety. With Roland there, he'll be able to protect me.

The stifling air is nearly unbearable, still I press on. A weight leans against my back, and I feel myself leaning forward. Still, I keep my eyes tightly shut and press on. The floor becomes slick with blood, causing me to nearly fall on multiple instances, yet I continue. Despite everything, I move onwards. A strange tenacity burrows deep into my heart. Deep down I know that my death is absolutely unacceptable. This feeling contrasts harshly with my previous sense of resignation, which I felt back at Anna's. I wonder what has caused this change of heart? Nothing particularly drastic could have changed my state of mind. The only explanation I can give to my sudden refusal of death would be that I know my body will make my enemy even stronger. Am I really the kind of person that would do everything in her power to prevent her enemies from getting a win? A win...? Do I think this is a game deep down? What is it that causes me to think, to act, this way?

My questions go unanswered the instant I hear a grating, gravelly voice whisper into my ear.

"Hello girly, taking an early morning stroll?"

The voice is elderly, like an old man with a lifetime of smoking behind him. It's disgusting to listen to, and I feel the desire to plug my ears and run away. As if to confirm my theory, the heavy breath that puffs into my face carries a whiff of smoke. I resist the urge to cough, my throat burns in protest. Both Cat's and Roland's warnings flash through my mind simultaneously, and I stop myself from reacting. Not even my eyelid twitches as my legs unhesitantly stride forward in even segments.

Following the appearance of Jeffrey, the hallway is filled with the sounds of screaming. Men, women, children, their cries fill the air, yet even this doesn't cause me to falter. They're not real after all. All of this is fake. A lie. The same creature that made the hallway look like this planted these deceptions directly into my brain, I'm sure of it. There's a change in my mind, something fundamental has been altered. It's like I'm possessed by an immovable spirit, one that will never allow me to stray from my path. A deep, firey, need, passion, obsession drags my legs unceasingly onward. I couldn't even stop had I wanted to. The previously horrifying sensation of the fleshly floor squishing beneath my shoes now becomes warm and familiar. The thick must in the air, which almost caused me to vomit out of disgust, now smells pleasant and delicious. My brain twists its logic around, fooling itself into accepting all the evil in the world as good. In this state of mind, not even the horrifying nightmares surrounding me will affect me. If anything, they'll only comfort me in this harrowing adventure.

I now possess a completely different frame of mind, one created out of my pure desire to continue forward. The trip down the hallway now feels like a game I'd play as a child. Even though I no longer possess memories of my childhood, the emotion still feels familiar. Like a little girl pretending to be blind, I wander forward, my face an impassive mask as I continue to ignore the bloodcurdling screams. It feels as if they're welcoming me. Beckoning me into the depths of the building. I feel my lips threaten to curl upwards as their sweet cries grace my ears, but I remain stonefaced, unperturbed. The cries rise in desperation, and my heartbeat speeds up. The voices begin pleading, and my nerves twitch out of excitement. I feel Jeffrey's whispering increasing is harshness, as if he's running short of breath. The hallway fills with people begging for mercy, and I nearly lose myself in the heat of my twisted mind. Now the voices all sound the same. A well-known voice, one so sweet I nearly burst into laughter, brushes against my ear. I feel my face grow warm and my legs quiver. My heart nearly leaps out of its chest as I force down a ragged moan.

My mind fills in the unknown. Unwarranted, and much to my own detriment. A shadowy haze is bent into various seductive poses. The hallway in my mind is filled with the curvy body of the figure. I sense her smile at me through the blanket of darkness, and I muffle a pant as she squeals in pain and agony. I begin walking towards her, my legs becoming increasingly wobbly. Inches away, I hear the voice scream out a name, and my mind flashes with various colors and shapes.

"Aaaggghh!?"

A voice, not my own, cries out in pain, and the horrifying choir of the damned vanishes without a trace. Unable to stop myself, I open my eyes and look towards the noise. My sight is drawn to a hunched figure bashing its head against the fleshy wall, burrowing deeper and deeper into the tar oozing flesh. A louder scream tears from Jeffrey's throat. It's as if he is trying to destroy his vocal cords purposely. I watch in dull confusion as Jeffrey loses his mind, tearing at the wet hair surrounding his glistening bald spot. His stained suit is torn and wrinkled. His body bleeds with innumerable gashes, which manifest on his skin as I stare. His body begins to twist and snap, and I watch in mute horror, uncomprehending. His already noodle-like limbs curl up like a pretzel, popping and cracking at every opportune moment. The pain in Jeffrey's voice dwarfs all the illusions by orders of magnitude. The sound rises in pitch and continues to rise until I can no longer hear it. Then, with a "pop" Jeffrey's head explodes, and I'm stuck standing, frozen and afraid, in a hallway made of flesh.