Chapter 118
Dax walked leisurely through the Backrooms.
The entities swayed as he passed, their grotesque forms bending, twisting, watching. Some were prisoners dragged here from other worlds. Others had been born in this place — conceived in the cracks between realities, raised on the whispers of yellow walls.
He turned each corridor without footsteps.
His hand brushed against the mannequins that lined the walls — their plastic faces frozen in expressions of perpetual surprise. Some were empty. Some were occupied. Some had been hollowed out and filled with things that should not exist.
Dax smiled.
It's beautiful.
There were entities whose flesh had been turned from the inside out — their organs exposed, their bones visible through translucent skin. They had no skin of their own, so they wore the skin of others. When they saw humans with skin, they grew infuriated. Jealous.
How dare you have skin?
How dare you wear something I do not have?
