The man is still watching me with those glowing green eyes. He doesn't seem to have any intention of leaving, and I don't know how to make him. I also don't know if I want him to.
This floor feels different. The danger isn't as immediate as the warden or the Silence. It's more subtle. A slow, creeping dread that seeps into your bones with the cold rain. The feeling of being watched by all those empty windows. The knowledge that the very ground beneath your feet might not be real.
This man is a part of that. He's a question mark. A variable I can't account for.
"Fine." I say, breaking the silence. "Since we're both just standing here, what should I call you?"
He blinks, the first truly human gesture I've seen him make. It's as if the concept of a name is something he hasn't considered in a long time.
"I...don't remember." He says, his voice soft, a hint of something like loss in the monotone. "You can call me...Green." He gestures to his eyes with a wry smile. "Seems fitting."
"Green." I repeat. It's not a name. It's a label. Like 'Doctor' or 'Nurse'. But it's better than nothing.
"What are you called?" He asks, his head tilting in that bird-like way again.
"Ariel."
"Ariel." He says the name slowly, as if tasting it. "A good name."
I don't know if it is. It's just the one I have. "What do you do here, Green?" I ask, my eyes scanning the dark windows of the buildings around us. "Just stand in the rain?"
"For now." He answers. "Sometimes I follow the lights." He points up at the flickering streetlights.
"They make patterns. Sometimes I try to find the doors. But they move." He shrugs, a gesture of profound indifference. "It doesn't matter. The rain will come again whenever it stops. It always does."
His detachment is unnerving. He's not broken like the nurse or lost like the doctor. He's just...disconnected. As if he's accepted this place completely, given up on trying to understand it. He just exists within it, moment by moment.
It's a kind of peace, I suppose. A peace born of surrender.
It's not for me.
"I'm going to find a door." I say, turning away from him. "You can come with me if you want."
I start walking, not waiting for an answer. I don't know if he'll follow. I don't know if I want him to. But leaving him behind feels wrong, somehow. He's not a threat. Not yet. And he's the only other living thing I've seen on this floor.
I hear his footsteps splashing in the puddles behind me. He's following.
We walk in silence for a while, the only sounds the rain and the distant thunder. The city is a maze of identical, rain-slicked streets. I choose a direction at random and stick to it, hoping it will lead somewhere. Green walks a few paces behind me, a silent, watchful shadow.
I don't trust him. But I don't feel threatened by him, either. He's just...there.
"Why are you here, Ariel?" His voice breaks the silence, quiet and curious.
I don't answer for a moment. The question is too big. Too loaded. "Same reason as everyone else, I guess." I finally say. "I died with something I needed to do."
"And what is that?"
I stop walking and turn to face him. The rain runs down my face, cold and steady. "I'm going to kill the man who killed me."
He doesn't react with shock or fear. He just nods, as if I've said I'm going to the store for milk. "A good reason." He says. "A clear purpose."
I frown. "Doesn't it bother you?"
"Why should it?" He asks, genuinely puzzled. "This is a place of violence. Of ends. You are just...honest about it." He looks past me, his glowing eyes scanning the rainy street. "Most of us pretend we're here for something else. Redemption. Forgiveness." He scoffs, a soft, bitter sound.
"We lie to ourselves. It's easier that way."
"What about you?" I ask. "What's your purpose?"
His smile returns, that empty, polite mask. "I told you. To watch the rain. To follow the lights." He looks at me, and for a moment, something flickers in his eyes. A ghost of an emotion I can't name.
"Maybe...to see what happens when you find your door."
I turn and start walking again. I don't know what to make of him. He's a reflection of this place, I think. A being of pure, detached observation. He sees everything and feels nothing.
We walk for another hour, maybe two. The city never changes. The rain never lets up. I'm starting to feel the exhaustion in my bones, a deep, bone-weary tiredness that has nothing to do with physical exertion. It's the weight of this place. The constant, unending pressure.
I need to rest.
I can't just collapse on the street. It feels too exposed.
Up ahead, the street opens up into a small square. In the center of the square is a large, ornate fountain. It's not working, of course. The basin is full of stagnant, black rainwater. But it's made of stone. It's solid. Real.
It will have to do.
I walk towards it, my feet heavy. I stop at the edge of the basin and sit down on the wide rim, the wet stone cold against my skin. I put my shears across my lap, my fingers still wrapped around the handle.
Green stops a few feet away, watching me.
"I'm going to sleep." I tell him. It's not a request for permission. It's a statement of fact.
He nods. "I will watch." He says simply.
I don't know if that's a promise or a threat. I don't have the energy to care.
Maybe it means he'll protect me.
I don't think I can rely on that.But I'm too tired to fight about it.
I lean back against the fountain, the cold stone at my back. The rain is a steady drumbeat on my face. I close my eyes.
And, for the first time since I arrived here, I let myself sleep.