A sickening feeling churned inside my gut as the sound of overlapping footsteps pounded against my ears. I could have helped them, could have pleaded with Matilda to let them go, but fear had overcome what empathy I had for them. Fear for my life and those closest to me.

Another wooden door stood parallel to the one we had just come out of, and I could almost hear the silent cries of the prisoners inside, and the silent prayers that they muttered that someone would take pity on them. I turned away, tuning out the hurt that made my heart wrench and guilt boil inside of me, and stared at the soggy floorboards, water droplets from the ceiling creating an ethereal chorus of rhythmical beats against the floor.

A few more steps and we stopped, ears peeled for any sign of lurking guards. Sure enough, one was stationed around the corner of the corridor but had fallen into a deep slumber, lullabied by the faint cries of prisoners and the gloomy atmosphere that inflicted drowsiness on its victims.

"Should I kill him?" Matilda asked, and I nearly recoiled in shock—and so did the others.

Seeing our horrified reactions, she smirked and nudged the guard with her foot, whose head lolled to the side, droll dripping down the side of his face. "Just kidding, just kidding. But if we happen to find someone who isn't as cooperative—" She made a slicing motion against her neck. "—then we'll make sure they go to sleep for a long time."

Ken chuckled but stopped when nobody joined his laughter, the heavy atmosphere that hung over us was not forgiving of tomfoolery. Besides, as the old man had said, we had to make haste.

And so, down another corridor we went, passing by the familiar cobblestone walls that etched strange marks into its rock, prisoners clawing at them as they were dragged away to meet death, and dried blood that had found its way through the cracks and seeped into the water within, giving it a sickening hue. A few metal buckets, corroded by the forces of nature, sat sulking against the wall catching a never-ending stream of droplets that echoed eerily in the corridor as it struck the cool metal.

"Just a few more turns and we shall be at the garbage chute," the old man spoke up as we rounded another corner—no guards had been seen, but distant footsteps had kept us on a careful edge.

We nodded solemnly as we followed the old man, passing by another wooden door that bottled up screams of anguish so that the sane wouldn't succumb to empathy and pity those who had sinned. My heart throbbed but my mind remained firm as my feet thudded ominously against the ground, echoed by the frantic scurrying of footsteps somewhere else in the labyrinth of corridors.

Suddenly, the old man bent over, clutching his neck as flakes of blood stained the wooden floorboards. I immediately rushed to his side, worried that our guide was on his last life, but he waved it off with a bloody hand as he wiped his mouth.

"I... just need to take a little break," the old man said, his voice getting lost in between blood-coated coughs. "Just walk straight ahead, take a left on the second corridor, and then a right on the first corridor you see. I'll be right with you."

Despite his reassurances, I remained by his side for a few more moments, before Matilda angrily scolded me for wasting precious time and that the old man would be able to catch up in no time. Yeah, with him coughing up blood he will, I thought, but scrambled Matilda and Ken, who had just disappeared around the corner.

As we stalked down the corridor, encountering a pair of sleeping guards that made my heart skip a beat, I could still faintly hear the hacking of the old man as he spewed out more and more of what little he had to live on. And then, just before we reached the second corridor as he instructed and were out of earshot, it stopped. Quite abruptly, as if someone had flicked a switch and it had ceased just like that.

I glanced at Matilda and Ken, who hadn't seemed to notice it, so I shook it off as my paranoid imagination and headed forward.

"Garbage chute, huh?" Ken said. "What're we gonna do, slide down it into a dumpster?"

Matilda shrugged, a chuckle escaping between her lips. "Well, if it gets us out of here, it'll have to do."

It was a bit haunting that almost every inch of the prison was identical, the same cobblestone walls that etched a sense of security but also an unfound fear, the same wooden ceiling that dripped water and made every single hair on your body stand up alert, and the same wooden floorboards that groaned painfully under the weight of the prison.

As we stepped over to the next corridor, I expected it to finally break the repetition that my brain was screaming in agony for, but no. We were struck in the face with the same cobblestone walls, the same wooden ceiling, and the same wooden floorboards that seemed to mock us for ever believing that we could escape this prison—both physically and metaphorically.

"I don't know about you guys, but I don't see any 'garbage chute' here," Ken squinted, trying to make out any subtleties in the corridor that would prove otherwise.

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious," Matilda snorted, but a worried flash in her eyes told all that I needed to know. "Where's the old man, anyways? He shouldn't have taken this long..."

"Should we head back?" I suggested. "Before we get completely lost in here."

Ken grunted in response, and seeing that nothing was out of the ordinary, began retracing our steps. Matilda and I followed closely behind, our footsteps minimal, and our eyes peeled for any unsuspecting guards.

After a few arguments between Ken and Matilda about what was left and right—Ken's face had turned a deep shade of red after realizing his mistake—we finally stumbled into what we thought was the right corridor, only that the old man had vanished.

"Are you sure this is where we came from?" I asked, but it was impossible to distinguish one from the other.

"I am quite certain we went the right way," he insisted, which got him a playful slug on the arm from Matilda. "With the help of my sister, of course."

He muttered the last part, giving me a knowing eye roll that I couldn't help but crack a smile at. But the humorous atmosphere was short-lived and as the lights flickered and the eerily familiar surroundings felt more immersive, drawing us in, I could feel the tension in the air that threatened to break at any moment.

"Where did he go, anyway? He couldn't have just vanished..." I peered through the corridor but saw nothing but darkness and endless cobblestone walls that made my stomach want to flip around.

Matilda shrugged, poised for any guards that happened to stumble upon us. "Maybe he was caught by a guard? The coughing was pretty loud."

"Or maybe he wandered off?" Ken suggested. "Perhaps his old age kicked in."

He attempted to get another laugh in, but I just shook my head. The faint cries of prisoners muffled by wooden doors reminded me that I couldn't let another life slip through my hands, especially when I could have easily done something about it. "C'mon, we have to search for him."

Ken pursed his lips, deep in thought, but Matilda looked outright taken aback as if I had demanded her to cut her hair or something of that sort.

"Search for him?" Her expression was a combination of shock and utter confusion. "We're trying to escape, not burden ourselves with the fate of others. Besides, how are we supposed to find him in this labyrinth?"

Now that it was put that way... I hung my head and nodded reluctantly, shutting the door in my mind that begged for me to let my heart take over, shutting the voices that told me to have pity, to be merciful. When did that ever happen to me? I thought angrily back to the restaurant, to the times Dave scolded me for hours on end.

But Benjamin had taken the time to understand you, hadn't he? A voice prodded, tugging at my heartstrings. I hastily shoved it away, tucking my heartstrings somewhere deep within the darkness of my body.

"Benjamin isn't here now." I spat, then realized I had spoken aloud.

"Hm?" Ken looked up, his eyes peering into mine as he seemed to search through my mind.

I shook my head quickly, dismissing his concern, and set my mind on the task at hand. How the heck were we supposed to get out of here?

Ken and Matilda also didn't seem to know the answer when I looked up as they scratched their heads, tapped their chins, and did anything to forget about the true reality of the situation. We were trapped, essentially, in this never-ending maze of bland architecture.

"Wait," It was like a door that had been concealed had creaked open slightly, illuminating my mind with the tiniest bit of hope. "You do remember that one guard we saw earlier, right? If, by chance, he is still there—"

"—we can find our way back to our cells, and retrace to the main entrance." Matilda completed, her face brightening, and it almost seemed that she wanted to give me a big hug, but perhaps that was my imagination at work again. Then again, my imagination didn't fail me last time, I thought, chuckling.

"Alrighty!" Ken exclaimed, as he almost sprinted down the corridor, wiggling his arms and kicking his legs along the way, a humorous dance for sure. "So all hope is not lost. Yet."

With newfound confidence radiating strong, we headed down another corridor in hopes of finding the guard. If he was asleep, it would be all the better for both of us, if not... I chuckled at the slicing motion Matilda had made earlier, but hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

"Halt!" Voices rang out like a chorus of bells. "Escapees will not be entertained for long!"

I froze, stricken with fear, before breaking into a sprint and scrambling after Matilda and Ken, who had already gotten a head start. We hadn't found the guard. The guards had found us.