The young man stood towering over her, his eyes were cold and piercing. "You're Diana. That's your birth name," he repeated. He spoke them cheerfully, but his eyes betrayed him when they hinted at anger and resentment.

Diana kept her eyes on him unsure of what to say or do next. If he said that her name was Diana then perhaps it is. Her mind at that moment was nothing but a blank canvas. A dry sponge that expelled nothing no matter how hard she squeezed. Her emotions were jumbled and she couldn't trust herself. But she couldn't trust him either.

"How do I know that you're not lying," she asked.

"You don't," he answered.  He smiled at her. "You just have to take my word for it.

"That's not fair," Diana retorted.

He clicked his tongue. "Nothing in life is fair. However..."

She expected him to continue, but he didn't. As the seconds ticked and the young man remained silent, her fear of him dwindled and was momentarily forgotten. With confidence, she yelled, "However, what?"

He did not reply. He just stood there regarding her with cold expressionless eyes. And as the seconds continued to tick, the weight of his gaze started to weigh down on her. It was like he was trying to intimidate her, to make her feel small and insignificant. The blood that continued to drip from his forehead down to his cheek mercilessly added to the weight of his gaze.

Diana shrank further on the big couch, scooting back until her spine met the backrest. Her fear of him resurfaced, unease slithering from her stomach to her chest.

His silence petrified her but she held off from talking, waiting for him to say or do something. But he only kept gazing.

The seconds ticked by slowly, dragging as if time feared to give the young man a countdown. The air between them got heavier. An invisible weight hung menacingly in the air. Diana felt like she was about to collapse. His gaze was like a boulder pressing on her body. Whatever strength she had inside was dwindling. Every flutter of his lashes felt like a fan sending out a strong wind to put out any fire remaining inside her.

Stop staring, Diana wished mentally.

"Do you want me to stop staring at you?" He asked. "What if I don't want to stop?"

Did he just read my mind, Diana wondered? But she didn't ponder on that long because, despite the jovial tone of how he said his words, there was still something menacing about the way he looked at her. It was like he was daring her to challenge him, to question his authority. She could feel the tension in the air, like a storm brewing on the horizon. One step and she felt like something would come crashing down on her. Like if she so as went against his wishes, daggers would start shooting out from his eyes and stab her to death.

Diana debated with herself if she should talk or keep her mouth shut. Should she wait for him to speak or coerce him to utter a word? Her mind was in disarray. Thousands of words bounced from one corner of her head to another but they never seemed to merge in order to form a sentence.

Just when she gave up, worn from the heaviness of his gaze, and attempted to speak, the demeanor of the young man in front of her changed. His expressionless gaze shifted to a stare that seemed to be full of amusement. Then he burst into laughter as if mocking her.

Diana was taken aback by the sudden shift in his attitude, unsure of what to make of it.

"Oh man, this is easier than I thought," he murmured. "But as much as I'm loving this stare-down we have here, we need to start moving. We have so much to do."

Diana's eyes went wide as saucers when he approached her. The safety of the minuscule distance she had from him dissipated as he took one step closer.

"What are you doing," she questioned, eyes darting from one corner of his face to another. The fear in her eyes and the abrupt shaking of her body forced a chuckle out of the young man.

"You need me. Now stop dilly-dallying and take my hand. We have a lot of floors to cover," he said cheerfully, blood oozing from the wound on his forehead. It dripped down his chin and a trickle fell on Diana's face. The cold liquid made her scream in fright.

"Oh, sorry about that." He croaked and then bent down, knelt in front of her, and wiped the blood that landed on her cheek. "There, all clean," he added after he wiped the red liquid off her. He then grabbed her arm and slung it over his shoulders, grabbed her waist, and pulled her up.

The whole scenario and their proximity unnerved her. It was perhaps a reflex induced by fear that caused Diana to suddenly pry herself away from him. There was no resistance on his part. He let it happen. But as soon as she was free and her weight fell on her feet she screamed in agony. She fell onto the floor, the pain forcing her to curl into a ball.

Amidst her distress, she heard him click his tongue and say, "Stupidity. I loathe stupidly,"

"W-What is this," Diana asked as a searing pain claimed her left ankle. She gazed at her foot and only then did she notice the wide band-aid on her ankle.

"Your Achilles tendon is severed. But don't worry, you're fine. I made sure of that. I'm a great surgeon you know. Besides, I can't have you running from me," the young man said as he knelt beside her. Without warning he grabbed her arm and wedged it over his shoulders again. He pulled her up, making Diana wince in pain as a portion of her weight fell on her injured ankle. As if on cue, the young man snaked his other arm on her waist taking off the weight that nestled on her foot. "There, this way you and I can travel the road you traveled hours back," he said to her.

The smile on his face made her heart jump but not in a good way. Is he a psychopath, Diana asked mentally. The thought made her body shake violently. The necklace she had around her neck — one she didn't even notice was there — made a clicking sound as panic rattled her entirety.

A peal of laughter answered her display of fear. "You're amusing you know that," he said. "Now, let's take this one step at a time."

Confused and perhaps with a mind not truly there, Sam replied, "What do you mean?"

The young man smiled and answered, "You'll see. As I was saying — before you're rude interruption — let's take this one step at a time. This is the Attic. It was your last destination. We're going down to the eighth floor." He drew a breath and then added, "I hope you're prepared."

Diana fell mute. She couldn't think straight. Her heart was beating so fast she could almost hear it. Her legs were shaky. She was in pain but like a puppet, she took one step after another when the young man guided her toward the door.

The door in front of her opened to a corridor that branches out to the left. It was brighter compared to the luminance inside the room they were in. She glanced at the young man beside her and couldn't help but stare at the wound on his forehead. They were almost of the same height so their face was close to each other, cheeks almost plastered together.

"Are you admiring my face?"

The question startled Diana and for a moment she attempted to pry herself away from him again, hands sliding away from his shoulder where it was wedged. But the stare he gave her when he noticed her action froze her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He warned.

Diana could only bob her head.

"Alright. We are about to step out of this room, so if you have other questions now is the time to ask them. He smiled, eyes pinned on the door in front of them. "You may not have the coherence to ask me questions later on."

The weird implication of his words made her frown. However, she skipped pondering about it because she did have a question. "What the hell are you?" Diana knew her question implied she didn't see him as a human being and truth be told, she'd rather not have asked. But her curiosity won out.

He snapped his head to the side in order to look at her with a speed that Diana thought could have broken his neck. It made her regret her word.

"I don't like that question, Diana." His tone sounded somewhat hurt. He then pried his gaze away from her and tilted his head. He stared at the ceiling as if deep in thought. "It's presumptuous."

Silence danced between them for a full minute before he shifted his gaze back to her and said, "My name is Carl. But to answer your question, "I'm your worst nightmare. I'm your executioner. I'm your angel. I'm your judge. I'm the weight of the feather against your sins. I'm many things. But ultimately, I am who you want me to be."

Diana's face contorted in confusion and fear after hearing what he said. The vagueness in his tone and the way he carefully chose his words hinted at something dangerous lurking in the shadows. She tried to maintain her composure, but her mind was racing with the possibilities of what could be coming her way. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was about to face something horrific. As she glanced at him, her eyes betrayed her fear, and she wondered if he could see the terror that was building inside of her.

When he laughed, it solidified her assumption. He knew.

They stood in the doorway a few seconds more and that time — though brief — made Diana's apprehension increase tenfold.

Just as she wondered what the hell was happening, Carl took a step forward, almost dragging her along with him.

As she took her first step out of the darkroom that previously confined her and into the corridor, Diana was met with an overwhelming stench of death. It was worst than the scent inside the room. She gagged and Carl laughed.

"You haven't gotten used to it yet?" He asked, eyes not looking at her but straight ahead. He stirred her to the right side of the corridor and there, about three meters in front of them Diana saw a staircase that led somewhere below.

She shivered. The light in the corridor they were in only reached the top of the staircase. Diana couldn't even make out the first plank past the landing.

She shivered again, this time her body rattled so much that Carl's shoulder where one of her hands was wedged shook too.

He tightened his hold on her waist. "Don't be scared. I'm here." He sounded cheerful again, comforting even. But Diana knew —  though unable to see them because his eyes were focused ahead — that his eyes would betray his jovial tone and false sense of security.

Before they took another step forward she felt Carl's body twist a little to the side to face her. She winced. His movement caused a considerable amount of her weight to drop onto her legs forcing her to close her eyes and draw a breath.

When she snapped them open, Carl's face was too close to her own and his eyes were boring into hers.

With an expression that weirdly danced between anger and amusement, he said to her, "I have been asleep for so long. But you came and woke me up. You pissed me off. But then amused me. Now you have to play again." He gave her a bright smile, "But this time, I'm playing too."

Then he abruptly made a turn, that caused Diana to screamed as his action compelled her foot to carry her own weight again. He didn't say anything. Speedily he guided them forward. Toward the staircase. Toward a dark descent that had Diana clinging to her — whatever he was — tighter.