Dressed for Despair

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨

The first collision between the wall and my head makes me grunt, but it only goes downhill from there. My back collapses against the slide and I can feel myself moving downward, headfirst, away from the light and away from the door. A guttural scream escapes my lungs as I glide faster, my body scraping against the rough walls the further I go. I'm falling fast. Too fast. I let out another yell and scratch at the walls only to be thrown into the air, and my stomach does a flip before I feel myself connecting with something solid once again.

It takes me a few moments to realize that I've rolled across the ground, and that I'm now staring at... wait, what am I staring at? Is this a ceiling? It's too dark in here, I can't tell. There are only a few lightbulbs, and they're not helping. Where's my phone? I sit up, groaning and pressing a hand to my head. Shoot. I must've cut it on the wall or something. What was that anyway? And who pushed me? I take my hand away from my forehead, and my heart stops when I see what's on it. Blood.

I carefully lift my finger back to where my head hurts, but sure enough I can feel it. There's blood. It's dripping from my cut.

Muttering a few choice words to myself I stand up, surveying the dark room. At least I made it downstairs. But I don't know what I was really expecting to find here. This place looks like all the other ancient rooms I've seen in this place, just, bigger. And darker. There are a few chairs here and there along with a large table and a mirror to my side, and then there's a bunch of paintings hanging on all the walls. They're portraits of people, all of them sitting in a rigid posture. All of them... seemingly staring at me.

I shudder and tug at my hair, walking toward the wall closest to me. There's an open door in the middle of the wall that reveals the slide I came from, but I don't go near it. Someone, or something, pushed me down those stairs. There had been no one behind me, but I know what I felt. I guess it could've been one of the others, if they were somehow silent and fast enough, but I don't care if it was them or... something else. I'm not gonna go back.

"Coral..." I whirl around, throwing out my hands at the same time the door slams. Wait. I nearly crack my neck when I rotate back around, stumbling backward when I see that the door has closed. The door has closed. What-

"Coral..." I steady myself on the chair closest to me, slowly sitting down on it. I know this voice. "... why didn't you come?"

"What?" I stand up again, pushing away from the chair and moving to the center of the room.

"Why didn't you come for me?" I cover my hand with my mouth, swiveling to focus on the large mirror that takes up the wall to my side. Why can I hear... Tyler? I tilt my head when I notice that the mirror isn't right, and without thinking I take a few steps towards it. I can see myself, and I can see the rest of the room, but something is different. I'm different.

I find myself lifting a hand to my face once again when I feel a tear slipping down my cheek, but I ignore it as I study my features. My hair is supposed to be colored a bright pink, but in this mirror all I can see is a dull gray. It makes me look like nothing more than a shell of a person, the light in my eyes gone and the expression on my face unmoving. Seeing myself like this... it suddenly makes me feel very cold. Or have I always felt this way? Ever since, well, ever since...

I watch as more tears stream down my face, but I can't do anything about it. I feel as if I'm frozen, as if my limbs are too heavy and I'm too weak to move myself. Why am I here? Why am I... still alive? I shouldn't be. I'm not good enough. I don't deserve to be good enough, to be loved ever again. Not when, not when Tyler and Deja are gone. The two people I loved the most in the world. They're gone. And... it really might be my fault. There was the driver. My "friends." But I was involved too. I didn't show up. I didn't keep my promise. And now I'm here.