His eyes jolted open.
A quick gasp fled his lips. The man was finally awake, having been trapped in a deep slumber. As he regained clarity, the man looked to the right and saw the fenced-off ledge of a long walkway, just inches away from his face. He then turned to the left and saw the crack of a damp and peeling wallpaper. It was the cramped space of a shallow clinic, the very same one from his dream.
The man let out a groan as he sat up, holding his head in an open palm. His body was riddled with sores, bruise marks, and needle stick wounds. Not a single recollection of how he got there, or where 'there' was. His mind was still bogged, and trying to force the memory back only made it worse. The man then lifted himself off the ground, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, before taking a quick scan of his environment.
It was definitely a clinic of some kind, only it was deathly silent. Empty, and not a single soul in sight. It was unsettling, but he had to get his bearings.
Behind him was the room from his strange dream, and a large smear of blood leading inside. The room was pitch black from this distance, and looking at the doorway rang alarm bells within his head. It wasn't a good idea to go that way, so he turned around. At the end of the walk way were several metal gurneys piled against each other, barricading a small door. There was a ladder hanging off the edge, to the side, which led down to the first floor. The walkway made him feel anxious, fearful even.
There was a reason it was blocked off.
The man climbed down, his footsteps pressing against metal echoing across the room. Following the ladder led him into a large, cluttered space. It was a medical floor. Cabinets and shelves holding various supplies lined the walls and beams, while more gurneys and various tools were sprawled across the floor. Not to mention, there was a large sum of blood. It was splattered against the walls and the floors. His dream felt less fiction as he ventured further. The man took cautious steps, taking great care to avoid unnecessary noise. Whoever the culprit of this grizzly scene was could be nearby, and he didn't want to greet them.
So he carried onward.
The further he trekked through the clinic, the more violent the environment became. It must have been a massacre but there were no bodies in sight. A shiver crept along his spine, and he began to fidget with his fingernails. The silence was the most harrowing part to him. Eventually, the man came across a narrow stairway- akin to a waiting room. He was greeted with a wooden doorway at the very top, with rays of light poking out from the inlaid glass. Without skipping a beat, the man hurried up the stairs. A sense of relief washed over him, drowning out the gnawing sense of anxiety in the back of his head.
The outside world!
CLANG!
Hand halfway to the rusted doorknob, the man stopped dead in his tracks at the sudden clatter of noise from behind. His breath hitched and his fingers trembled. Whatever it was, it sounded close. Against better judgment, knowing he should fling the door open and run a full-sprint, curiosity was eating at him. The clinic was deathly silent during his entire visit which frightened him the most; he was never alone. Then came the footsteps. Heavy feet pressing against the wooden floor from the previous room, and they were getting closer. But he had to see. The man shifted his gaze over, cautiously turning his head back to see the source of the noise. His heart raced, with sweat profusely dripping from his forehead.
It was a woman.
Long, silver hair draped over a pale face peeking through the shadows. Confusion quickly overwhelmed him. The man turned his body to face her, taking several steps down the cricketing boards. His mouth opened but, again, no words. They just couldn't come out- not even a simple 'Hello', The woman's head swayed down taking a glimpse into a puddle of blood below her chin. She hovered, staring deeply into her own reflection in the crimson mirror; her flowing hair drooping down into the blood.
Then she jolted her head down!
Her face was lowered, lapping up droplets into her mouth. The man froze. A knot twisted in his stomach and his breath gave out. It was sickening; hearing her tongue splash in the puddle like a thirsty dog. The man had never seen anything like it, which is what drew him in. It was the only human face he's seen since his awakening, and he wanted answers. Slowly, the man closed the distance between them, entering the previous room she inhabited with a careful step. He tried to catch a better glimpse of her face but something moved in the darkness behind her.
Something big.
The man stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes on the darkness as they settled with the light. Deathly white skin, just like that of the woman's, only it was bulbous. Like an overstretched balloon teeming with spiney fur, and a massive red pouch. The stench was horrific, violating his nostrils with a foul, metallic stench. A mix of blood and filth overwhelmed his nose, sending him backwards into the ground. That thing behind hiding behind her, it was the rest of her. She wasn't human. Some strange creature from the darkest corners of his mind. She- It- continued to slurp up the bloody floor, even after his inspection. It didn't even react to his presence despite him tumbling to the ground. But he didn't want to see anymore, thinking that this was more than enough.
He had to leave, and fast. The man took his time to get back on his feet, slowly as to not startle or alert the creature. The man put his hands to his back as he started taking steps backwards, not taking his eye off the woman the entire time as he felt around for the wall to guide him. Slow and steady. The man carefully made his way back to the wooden entrance, reaching for the rusted doorknob. It was still there, drinking up the blood like some kind of giant tick or mosquito. The door opened, rusted hinges letting out a large creak as he pressed his shoulder into the wooden frame. The creature raised its head suddenly, looking over to the man as the exit opened up. For an entire second, their gazes were met- he could feel the creatures eyes meet with his, and the chill that came with it. Yet, it quickly lowered its head once more and continued to drink.
"F…f…fa…" he tried to whisper but just couldn't. He stepped through and closed the door behind him. 'Farewell'.
The man was blinded by a ray of sunlight. The toll of a bell echoed out from the distance. The air had a smell and taste of soot but it was strangely familiar. More confused than before, the man took a quick look at his surroundings before turning back to face the building. He was in a graveyard, and the building looked to be an old hospital. The man saw a large, iron gate in the distance, and a silhouette of a person walking by. A real person, from the small glimpse he caught. Still keeping himself cautious, there was at least a glimmer of hope.
The gate was sealed shut but he had no difficulty opening it. It was rather easy, strangely enough, but he had to find some help. Stepping out onto the street greeted the man with an enormous sight, almost breathtaking: a mountain range taller than he's ever seen. Buildings filled the valley they surrounded, stretching across for miles; almost infinitely. At the center was an even smaller city, raised up on a massive stone column connected by a grandiose bridge. The man took in the vista, stuck in awe. Then, suddenly, he was met with a sharp pain in the back of his skull. A sting piercing his head like the pointed end of a knife. For a moment, it cleared the fog in his mind.
He now knows where he is:
Central Yharnam.
How he knew this wasn't as clear, but he didn't want to delay the mystery any further. Following the direction of the silhouette, the man hurried up the street and, for the most part, ignored his surroundings as dashed through. He was then met with the silhouette at the end of the street- a strangely tall man who lumbered around aimlessly. The tall stranger turned heel at the sound of his approaching footsteps, brandishing a sickle held in his offhand. His head rolled over as the stranger turned to face him. The man could hear its teeth grinding together, scratching the enamel right off. Its bones creaked with every twitch and chitter, like sticks crunching beneath one's feet. The stranger mumbled a phrase under a quickening breath.
"I…" his breath caught, letting out a dry cough. "..I can smell your rotten blood… stranger…" A wicked grin stretched across his face, festering with black pustules. Dry lips smacked together as the tall stranger took several paces forward. A parched snicker left his throat as the sickle was raised in the air- he was mad! The stranger roared as he lunged forward.
He was fast.
Faster than the man anticipated. The sickle struck him in his side; its wicked blade lodging itself deep and sending him recoiling to the ground. On the ground again. The man yelled in agony, a pain unlike anything he's felt. He gasped for air but it quickly fled his lungs. The tall stranger yanked his blade from the man's body and pressed his heel into his face.
The man spat out blood, and a lot of it. Wounded and restrained, he felt like a fox amidst a hunt. Vulnerable and helpless. His body shivered underneath the stranger's boot, and everything started to get dark. But it was a familiar sensation. As if he's been here before, but just couldn't figure out why. "W… where… where…" he mustered, but his voice was nowhere to be found yet again. He gave into the cold sensation.
The stranger readied his weapon once more, raising it aloft. The sun shone in its metal reflection, gleaming into his eyes.
"Filthy… BEAST!'
He shouted, slamming the pointed edge of his weapon into the man's temple. There was no cold, no life to flash before his eyes. Simply-
nothing.