After dividing from the others, Chase knew that he had to separate himself from Vivica; she wanted to hang out with Naomi. So he let her go, and set out to find himself the next clue.

His past is what the Host has chosen to bring up. But Chase can't fathom why his mother is important.

Sure, he's slept with dozens of women, each faded from memory. This is most likely why he's ended up in this mansion.

Could the clue have been hinting at the identity of the Host?

A cold thought comes to his mind: is it his mother or father?

So many things are wrong with this theory. He doesn't even know whether his mom is alive, so what would that mean for him if she is and has come back to teach him a lesson along with nineteen others?

But it doesn't check out. What about Sam's family crest! Doesn't that hold some significance? Or is this all, this whole Game, a trick to bring up everyone's darkest secrets and worst fears?

That last thought rings through Chase's mind like the siren of the ambulance that brought his mother to the hospital when she overdosed.

"I miss you," he whispers into the dusty air. "But if it's you who's doing this, you deserve to have died."

He wanders the halls aimlessly, tracing the patterns and thinking of the staircase that he and Vivica ran into earlier. Was that where she went with Naomi?

It's possible. And if there's something good down there, then Chase wants to be the first to find it.

"I don't know who's messing with all of us," he says to the ceiling. "But mark my words, whoever you are, I won't let you get away with this."

He turns around and retraces his steps back to the door leading to the drawing room and can't resist taking a peek at what's going on inside.

The sight surprised him. Zach Elsher is on the ground with Eliza hovering over him, holding bloody clothes to his chest.

Was Zach stabbed or shot? Who did it?

Chase continues to scan the room and sees a limp body lying on the ground next to Zach.

A corpse.

He's too far away to tell who it is and quickly walks away.

I will not be the one to place for their death. Not again.

It takes him a while to find the right spot, but eventually Chase is able to get to the staircase. Has it always been here, or is there a hidden wall that kept it a secret?

Chase cautiously takes a look around him, making sure no one is watching him, before descending the steps. On the third step, he realizes that he needs some light and goes back to grab a candle.

Why do candles have to be a recurring theme with all these explorations?

He bravely takes a step forward, then another, and another into the ink darkness below the mansion.

An overwhelming odor of mold and decay immediately hits his nostrils as soon as he takes a step into the rather large room.

"Wow—" He coughs on the cloud of dust that looms overhead.

Great, now everyone probably knows where I'm at.

Chase swings the candle back and forth, trying to get a good look at the room. With so little light it's hard to tell what those lumps are. This is no doubt a cellar; a storage room of sorts perhaps.

"At least I'm the only one that knows of this place."

But no, he wasn't. Vivica knows that the steps exist. If they were able to stumble upon it by look, who knows how many people had found it by deliberately looking in the right places.

He squints his eyes, trying to discern what the silhouettes are. A stack of what he believes to be plywood lies in the corner, and several large cartons sit scattered among the floor.

A draft of air is coming from somewhere and Chase tries to protect his flame from blowing out. It seems he isn't so lucky this time.

Or any time, for that matter.

The invisible wind extinguishes the light, engulfing him in a sudden darkness and loneliness.

"Why can't there be any windows?" he laments, feeling his way to the wall. "This is what you get for walking into a dark cellar with a candle for light! You could've at least looked for a flashlight!"

Chase follows the wall around a bend he doesn't recall being there. A small voice in his head starts going into panic mode.

You'll never find your way out, the little voice in Chase's head says in a sing-song voice, You'll be trapped here forever.

"No, I'll find my way out," Chase mumbles aloud.

Oh, really? You must be delusional, the voice giggled.

"I'm not delusional." He braces himself against a wall.

Deep down you know it, that's why I'm here. You think you'll be able to get out of here; you think we'll be able to leave! You're delusional!

"I'm not delusional."

Yes, you are. You just won't admit it. Do you know who does that? Crazy people!

"I'm not crazy." Chase's voice raises a bit louder.

Whatever you'd like to believe. Of course, my being here is proof you are. Just like that Zuri is proof we'll never get out.

"I'm going to get out."

You really think that? The voice lets out a low, toneless laugh.

"I'm going to get out of this place, no matter what you say." Chase's eye begins to twitch.

You're just a kid! You really think—

"I"m not a kid. I'm nineteen!" Chase speaks over the voice in his head.

—older than you and she couldn't get out of here! Zuri's dead! Is that what you call escaping?

"Shut up." Chase starts to sway on his feet.

Me? Shut up? I can't! I'm inside of you! I always have been and I always will be! You will never escape me! You will never escape this place! Now someone else is dead! I bet they'll try to frame it on you again! You're an easy target, with your mommy issues and all.

"Shut up, Cheshire." Chase holds a hand to his head, trying to stop the pain.

There you go at it again! "Shut up"! It's interesting, isn't it? How you still believe that someone is going to save you. Even if you do manage to escape this mansion, you'll never be able to escape me. I am with you! Forever! You won't escape. You can't escape! We still have so much fun to have!

"SHUT UP!" Chase's voice reverberates across the room, causing his headache to worsen. He sinks to the floor and leans the back of his head against the wall. He knows that Cheshire is nothing but a figment of his imagination, but sometimes it feels so real.

Cheshire has been with him for as long as he can remember. He's been there to kill Chase's confidence every day. Cheshire only got worse when Chase realized his parents never loved him. So, he started gambling. It quieted Cheshire for a while, but he always came back. Always.

Chase sits in silence, nothing there to fill the empty void.

"I see...darkness...my hand...um...my-my shirt...uh...my shoes...and...the candle." Chase tries to steady his breathing, but is failing miserably.

"I can feel my hands, my shirt...the...uh...the walls and the floor." His hands are still shaking, though they begin to slow down.

"I can hear my voice, water, and...uh my heart." His breaths, though still shaky, are returning to normal.

"I can smell rain and...cologne." His headache slowly starts to disappear.

"I can taste...blood?" Chase only now realizes that he had bit his tongue. He stands up, feeling the walls for direction. He wants to keep going. He needs to keep going. Even if it is to prove Cheshire wrong.

He does this for a few minutes until, finally, he comes upon a metal doorknob. He opens it with some difficulty, a loud squeak echoing across the room.

The only light in the room is a fire inside a large metal boiler. Chase once heard that if you take away one of your senses, the others enhance. He had always thought it was fake. That is, until it is too dark for him to see anything. To Chase's dismay, the little light that comes from the fire doesn't help. But, what he can tell is that something else is there.

A putrid smell fills the room. Though Chase hasn't had much experience with it, he knows it is the same smell that Zuri had when he found her.

It's unmistakably the smell of death.

Chase holds a hand above his nose, feeling as though he is going to puke. He is about to leave the room when his eyes adjust to the darkness. Seeing the identity of the body doesn't make him feel any better. There, laying on the ground in front of him, is the decaying body of his mother.