All Was Golden

S I X T E E N

Ryan cried out as the metal of the key burned him once again. The metal felt like it could melt directly through his skin and meld with his bones.

Despite the pain, however, he lifted it from the ground.

The cord has reattached to itself. It was once again a complete loop that would fit around someone's neck.

"Ryan, you can't wear that again." Spencer had worry in his eyes. He reached out, but he seemed to hit an invisible wall just in front of the key.

Ryan looked at the cord that hung off his hand. His palm burned, but he didn't want to let go. There was almost a thrill to it. Wasn't it fitting that the key bring this much pain to him after the damage he had caused?

Ryan shut his eyes. No. It shouldn't be hurting anyone. He had to make sure it didn't hurt anyone else.

Without another thought, he grabbed the cord with his other hand and slid it around his neck.

"Fuck!" He yelped as he released the key from his hand. It bounced against his shirt, eyes and nose socket glowing madly in the dark. His palm was red with the outline of the key being a ghostly white against it.

Spencer's eyes were wide as Ryan held his hand in a fist, biting his lip to keep from crying out again. "Ryan, it's too dangerous."

"I have to do this." Ryan spoke through his teeth. The sting of the key remained, though most of the pain was fading. "This is my fault."

"Is that what you think?" Spencer asked.

Ryan ignored the question. He instead pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled slightly, but steadied himself by reaching out to hold the rough wall. "Which way to hell fire?" He asked, trying his best not to look at Spencer directly.

Spencer's brow was furrowed as he looked at Ryan. "Follow the heat." He finally replied. "To find the heart, you have to follow it's warmth."

"Where do we start?" Ryan spun in a circle. Both directions of the path they were in looked practically identical.

Spencer rose to his feet. "I'll be your guide." He said, placing a hand over his chest. "I've watched over you this long, of course I'll help you however I can."

Ryan's lips tugged upward, though he still wouldn't look directly at Spencer. "Thank you."

Spencer stepped beside Ryan and they began to walk down the tunnel.

The walls remained jagged and sharp down each path and around each turn. Ryan and Spencer had to be careful not to catch themselves as some of the walls pressed close to them. Eventually, however, they broke into smooth corridor.

A gasp escaped Ryan as he took the space in. Doors lined the walls as far as he could see. Each one identical to the next with a red wooden surface and black boarder details. The only difference between the doors were golden numbers that gleamed from torch lights between each door.

"What is this?" Ryan asked as Spencer lead him forward.

"Demonic living." He replied, nervously, "Each room is as identical as the doors."

"Like a hotel for demons?" Ryan asked, soaking in every detail as they passed by door after door. "Or an apartment from hell?"

"They have to live somewhere."

Ryan slowed his pace. "Is... Is it like this in the other place?"

Spencer stopped. Before he could turn to answer, however, he cried out and fell to the ground.

"Spencer!" Ryan rushed forward.

Spencer's body convulsed as his figure flashed in and out of view. Ryan wanted to reach out, but sometimes held him back. He could only watch in fear as his friend flickered in and out of sight.

Spencer suddenly gasped, popping back into existence. His eyes were wide as he gulped breaths of air like a fish out of water.

"What was that!?" Ryan exclaimed, looking Spencer over with concern.

His friend pushed himself up, breaths still labored. "You may have friends in holy spaces... But I wasn't exactly meant to stay long in the opposite setting."

"Is being here hurting you?" Ryan asked, feeling his insides instantly knot up. Even his dead friends were being hurt because he couldn't handle...

Spencer rose fully to his feet. He faded in and out of view, but pain didn't show across his face. "I'm fine. I'm dead. It's you we need to worry about."

Ryan turned to him. He took a step back when he saw concern in his eye. "Why?"

"How long have you been wearing the key, Ryan?" Spencer asked, looking into Ryan's eyes. Or rather, focused on one eye in particular.

"Why?" Ryan repeated, feeling panic rise within him. He could practically hear the laughter ringing in his head. "Why!"

He didn't wait for an answer.

Spencer called out for him as he darted to his side. He grabbed the latch of the nearest door, twisted, and flung it open.

It looked like a cheap motel room. The wallpaper was cracked and peeling. Shredded drapes hung from a window that proved a view of the outer red wall of the world. Two figures were tangled on a broken down bed, but froze when the door was opened. They vanished into a puff of dark smoke when Ryan stumbled into the room, running towards the bathroom door that hung open.

Ryan practically crashed against the sink, gasping as he looked down at the dirty drain and gripped the sides.

The key felt heavy around his neck. It felt like it was trying to pull him down while simultaneously pushing into his skin.

Spencer called out to Ryan again from the main room. Ryan lifted his head, getting greeted by his reflection in a cracked mirror.

A single yellow eye looked back at him.