Insanity?

Forewarning:
This RP contains violence and disturbing scenes
Nightmares brought to life.
Slow descents into insanity
An excess of blood.

By NekoLen and Tachigami

What would you do if you woke in a strange place?

What if you'd signed up for an experiment with no idea what it would entail?

What if the shadows move....

The light is dangerous...

Strange things are following you...?

Your worst nightmares coming to life...?

Are you going... crazy...?

Usually, Zane found a slightly off-white ceiling lined with cracks staring back at him when he opened his pale green eyes. It took a moment for him to realize he wasn't still in that nightmare, and in fact, he was really looking at the discolored green-blue canopy of a Queen bed. That was odd... His was a twin bed. It didn't even have a frame. Just a box spring and mattress on the floor. Now... it was dark. Too dark. He gasped, sitting bolt upright and sinking deeper into the comforter underneath him, staring around him at a strange, new place. A wood-burning stove sat in the corner, near the bed, and another bed sat across the very long room and its hardwood floor, its red and black moth-eaten area rug... A table, a couple couches, some chairs... They were scattered around as though they'd been forgotten, and a desk was against the wall near the door, which was between the stove and the desk. The window far, far away, on the other side of the second bed, was shrouded in a heavy red curtain, but only weak rays of dying sunlight filtered through.

Zane sneezed. Dust. It floated about like the remnants of a spirit. His heart pounded, and so did his head, near the base of his skull, as if he'd been smashed in the neck by a heavy bat or tree branch. Putting a hand up to the pain, he tried to fight through the fear of the dark he'd had since he was a child---a fear instilled in him by his father and mother. when his bare feet hit the floor and he tried to stand, his knees gave out on him and he fell onto his stomach, letting out a surprised yelp and moan of pain as he did so. Alone. He was alone. Zane had never minded it---in fact, he preferred being alone. But now. Now he was in a strange bedroom. What the hell...? He didn't recall walking through a bad part of town. What would entail him being in such a place? Breathing short, quick breaths, he closed his eyes. Maybe this was just a nightmare within a nightmare. He'd had those before. Sometimes he thought he was awake and he'd just fallen off the bed.

The fire crackled oddly in the back of his mind. It sounded almost surreal... Slowly, as though he'd suddenly been weighted down, he pushed himself up onto his knees. A chill in the air, unable to be cut by the fire nearby, forced him to shiver.

Chester opened his bleary eyes, blinking until he could see clearly. He seemed to be lying on a large four-poster bed in a dark room that smelt of dust and musty material. He blinked harder, trying to sit up. His limbs felt very heavy and his head spun. Swallowing back nausea, Chester sat on the edge of the bed, holding his aching head in his hands. He tried to remember how he had got there, but he didn't seem to be able to remember anything past accepting a job in the paper.
Flashes of a white, sterile environment and serious lab-coat wearing people taking notes came into his head. He heard a sneeze and a thump from within the room and jerked his head up, peering through the darkness. "Hello? Is someone there?" he asked the darkness.

He felt drunk. His head swam as he tried to see straight again, but things swam. He tried to stand again, but fell backward, hitting his head on the bedpost. "Uhh?" For a moment, the prospect of another voice was a completely ridiculous concept. Why would there be anyone else in this damned nightmare? "Z-Zane..." he finally forced himself to speak, rubbing the spot he'd hit again. Backing away from the bed in case he fell back again, he crawled toward where an open area of the room was, near the door. "Me, I'm here. Zane. Zane... um..." What was his last name? He tried to think, but couldn't recall. Couldn't...

Something hit him, a thought this time. "W-wait... Who're you? Where are you?" He squinted in the dark he hated so much. So many deep shadows... He scrambled back, into the light of the stove and getting as close as the heat would allow him to.

Hearing the fearful voice reply to him, Chester sighed with relief. At least he wasn't here alone. Usually he would avoid contact with other people, but at the moment it seemed that he had to interact with this Zane. He saw movement by the flickering fire and saw a frightened figure curled up there.
"Um... Chester. My name is Chester," he replied, standing up. He felt very dizzy as he did, but he steadied himself. He walked over to Zane with heavy, almost unresponsive feet. "Where are we?" He had a feeling that Zane wouldn't know any more than he did, but he asked the question anyway.

Zane shook his head, but it felt as though it rattled his brain in his skull like a giant stone. "Oh..." He put his hand up to his head. "Uh, I don't know... I don't remember... anything. Not my last name. What...? I was... I think I was walking home." He grabbed the wall behind him and levered himself up. "Walking home. And then I'm here." He glanced up to the other one. He didn't seem so bad. Chester, was his name? He looked very normal. Except the hair. Blue hair? Well, to each his own, but Zane preferred his natural platinum blonde.

"Oh.... I wish I had a-a flashlight... s-something." He shook his head. The stutter was back. Always when he was afraid. It always gave him away, even when he managed to keep a calm appearance. "Wh-why are you here?" He asked, suddenly curious. Perhaps he were here of the same reason. Or perhaps he was the one that brought him here...! Zane shook his head. No. No, he had to trust this one.

Chester watched the stranger struggle to his feet. His night vision was pretty good, seeing he had spent most his days playing on his computer in the dark. He glanced about the room, scoping for any light sources. He didn't want to touch the other, scared of what might happen. He could tell that Zane was scared due to the way he spoke. What was he afraid of? The dark? He scoffed lightly. Only children were afraid of the dark.
He made his way towards the curtains, sensing their heavy fabric was blocking out a lot of light. "I can't really remember... There was this ad in a newspaper..." he said, straining his aching head for more clues. Everything else was still a blur. "I think this is some job," he muttered, realising how weird that sounded. He reached for the curtains and pulled, letting in a little sliver of sunlight. They seemed to be tied up higher, he'd need a chair or something to get them open fully.

"Job!?" Zane's voice held a tremor which wouldn't go away. "Some job this is! I didn't even sign up for it!" He stalked forward on shaking legs which threatened to give out any moment. Chester looked like he was trying to find a way to open the curtains, too high above his head. Grabbing the desk chair, he shivered as he set it in front of the window, stepped up a bit, and grabbed the tie, yanking it down and letting in a bit more of the fading evening glow. Outside, he could see only trees.

"Oh... where are we...?" He looked down. "Oh, and where are my shoes!?" Zane hadn't paid much attention to his attire. It had been what he was wearing when he'd gotten ready for bed: A thin, plain shirt and baggy pair of black pants. No wonder he was so cold. "Ugh, I have to find some other clothes..." He shivered, rubbing his arms quickly. "Bedroom... must have clothes." He wandered shakily toward what he assumed was a wardrobe and flung it open, ready to run if anything jumped out. But nothing did, except the pale long-sleeved shirts and pants of an era passed by. Long passed, by the look of it. These clothes looked to be something similar to what those at the turn of the century would wear. But it had to be warmer than his bedclothes. Shaking, he pulled them out, checking the sizes against him. Oddly, even the several pairs of shoes fit well. Changing, he glanced toward Chester. "So this is your job? You bring me here or something? Or is this some freakish game?" His teeth chattered, and he forced them to stop.

When the man came close to help him open the curtains, Chester flinched slightly. He back off and let the stranger untie them. His heart sunk when he saw the forest outside. He had no idea where they were either. He watched the man put on more clothes. He had his usual t-shirt and baggy jeans on, but indeed, his shoes were missing as well. At least they were kind enough to leave his mismatched socks on. He frowned as Zane yelled at him. This is why he hated people. They were such dumb, panicky beasts. "I don't know. No I did not bring you here, I have no idea where we are," he said calmly, trying to calm the man down before he went hysterical. "I said I can't remember what happened." This was only half true, but he decided not to tell Zane about the scientists just yet.
"Maybe I was going to a job and I got kidnapped, just like you," he again glanced out the window, watching the sun sink below the trees. This reminded him of many a survival horror game. Maybe Zane was his escort mission? He snorted. The man certainly was as annoying as one.

Zane forced shaking arms through a baggy cream-toned shirt and went underneath, shrugging out of his regular shirt. Layers weren't his thing. Pulling on some thin socks, he scoffed. "Huh, maybe. Maybe maybe maybe." He stopped himself before he went on a tirade of 'maybe', sitting on the bed as he put the shoes on. They were more boots than anything, and went up over his new pants. "Whatever the case, I knew I should have gone to the psychiatric ward. Trying that drug was the stupidest thing I ever did. Just made my problems worse. Now I'm here. With a stranger. In a strange place. Like it's back in time or something." He giggled to himself, as though the thought were funny.

Standing to close the doors to the eerily dark wardrobe, he found something shining in the bottom. A lantern? Seemed rather old-world. But nothing in this room screamed 'modern'. He picked it up and studied it. Could light the way. Patting the darkness with shivering hands, he found a box of matches and struck one, lighting the lantern. "Oh, so much better." He would have hugged the lantern if he could. Now he just had to worry about the one he was trapped with. What did this kid think he was? Possibly living in a world of fantasy, by the look of his spiked blue hair. Unreal. Zane was far too in-tune with the realities of this world. So much it had led to multiple panic disorders.

"Maybe we are in a psychiatric ward," Chester muttered, staring out of the window. He rest his elbow on the sill and then his head on his hand. Maybe this was one big delusion. No way the job meant he was going to be sent somewhere like this. He remembered that he had asked if there was going to be other people, seeing he was cautious of strangers. He had signed a contract even!
He heard a match being struck and glanced over his shoulder. Zane seemed to be holding an old-fashioned lantern. He laughed to himself. Maybe he was having a hallucination after all, because so far this seemed like way too many horror games he had played. "Don't use up the oil," he joked, looking back out the window. Maybe there was a way to break out of here. But then what? He'd still be trapped in the forest with this reject.

A delusion? Of course! Of course! Zane almost laughed out loud, setting the lantern on the table for a moment. He was just crazy, that's all! Relief was prominent for a moment. If this was a delusion, he were probably in a nice, soft padded room restrained by a straitjacket. He could have collapsed on the ground in a fit of laughter. Nothing could hurt him! The pain in his head that was beginning to fade was probably a figment of his imagination! That meant the fire in the lantern couldn't hurt him...

"Ouch!"

Urg... Maybe it could. Zane put his slightly burned finger in his mouth. "Okay... Okay. Oil goes out. Fire goes out. Dark brings bad things." He picked up the lantern and glared at the door that he'd had to pass a moment ago. "Well, I know I'm not about to stick around this room. This isn't a hallucination, I know that... I can't get hurt in a hallucination. That means you've got half a chance of being real... So I might be talking to myself!" He laughed as he went to the door, and pushed it open. It was dark in the corridor. "I don't even care right now." He admitted, and didn't move from where he stood. He put the lantern out first, but nothing attacked it, or him. He stepped out.

Chester watched the man leave the room and thought about just staying in this room. The room was comforting enough, and he didn't do well with strangers or open places. His parents had thought he had some form of autism, and even though he was never tested, sometimes Chester really thought he did. Sighing heavily, he followed Zane. This guy, even though he seemed much older than him, didn't look like the type to be able to do anything on his own. When he mentioned that Chester could be an illusion, he longed to punch the man in the face. But instead he prodded him hard in the back. "I'm not an illusion. Now comon, let's see if we can find out what's happening." He led the way down the crooked, old stone corridor, peering through the darkness to find anything that could give them some clue as to what was happening.
Up ahead he found a large wooden door, next to it was a flight of stairs. The staircase leading up looked rickety and about to fall down at any moment. The ones going downstairs were covered in a strange liquid. Chester went straight to the door and tried it. Locked, of course. In horror games, the front door was always impossibly locked.

Zane watched Chester with always-wide eyes. It was as though he'd be able to see if he just opened them wide enough. When the door wouldn't open to Chester's trying, he shook his head. “Nothing's easy.” He muttered. “Nope. Nothing's easy, especially not escape from this... place.” He shivered. It was as though the place, a castle or some palace by the look of the old, stone structures, played upon his fears. A slight hissing, like that of tiny legs moving quickly along stone, startled him into a small pool of light coming from a series of candles lying on the top of a table nearby. A drawer was below it. Pulling it open, Zane put a shaking hand in to inspect the contents. Paper... more paper... a fountain pen... Something moving...!

He gasped, snatching his hand back. Bugs. Bugs. One of his most prominent phobias. “Damn you, Mom and Dad...” Zane's muttering was broken and shivery, and he slammed the drawer shut. “Ugh! No escape! This is like some sick game my parents thought up or something!” His lantern hand shook so much he had to set it down to preserve its wellbeing, and decided to blow out the flame since they were in a rather bright area. “I'm not a leader, I don't wanna be the leader. You go on, I'll... follow you...” He stepped back toward where Chester had paused.

Sighing heavily, and hating the man a lot, Chester led the way towards the stairs. He glanced up at the rickety stairs leading to the upper floors. The chances of finding their way out of here seemed to be slim, but if they went up, they could find a door or window. He looked down into the darkness below. There wouldn't be anything downstairs, perhaps a tunnel. He bent down and touched the liquid. It felt clammy and thick, and smelt like old fish. He brought his fingers into the light, cringing when he saw the dark red colour. But what would this much blood be doing here? It didn't seem all that fresh, but maybe that meant someone was down there. Maybe that person could help them.
"Well? Do you want to go up, or down?" he asked Zane, wiping his hand on his jeans. "If we go up, we might find a window or door to escape from, but," he nodded towards the stairs. "It looks pretty dangerous." He pointed at the rotten wood and missing steps.
"Or we could go down..." He really didn't want to go down. He knew from video game experience, that going down was the last thing you'd want to do.

Zane chewed the handle of his lantern. His! No one else’s. Chester didn’t seem to fear the dark. But then, he probably played too many video games to understand what real, true, and absolute terror the real dark could harbor. Especially when someone didn’t even know where they were... Still, why did he have to allow Chester to go about it as if he were just a video game character, someone that could respawn at a safe place or particular point in the game if he died, or heal a wound at some magical fountain or first aid cabinet? He giggled nervously.

“Well, I’m going down!” He went past Chester and took a look at the stairs. Was that...? Blood...? Zane rolled his eyes, biting back a groan of slight fear. What happened to whomever else had been here before? The smearing looked relatively old, but not enough to dry completely. Shaking the thought away, he stepped onto the first stair, sticking very close to the wall. If he knew anything, it was about architecture and weight displacement. The center of the stairs would be the most dangerous considering how narrow they were they wouldn’t have a middle support beam. And in older castles like this one seemed to be, wooden steps like this would be first braced on a lip in the stone, at least six inches wide. “Just convincing myself whatever left the blood is upstairs, not downstairs. Upstairs. Up... there. Where it’s probably impossible to climb out of a high window anyway. Don’t want to break any bones, I don’t think. Well, I don’t, personally.” He shook his head at Chester. He didn’t even like people in general, what was he doing following someone that seemed to live in one big game!? Stupidest idea ever.

Pausing, Zane grabbed the lantern’s wooden grip in his teeth and went on, sticking to the walls and holding onto the immobile wall’s lip that acted as a railing. It was dark down there, but he could just see the bottom of the stairs. He’d light it again when he got there...

Raising an eyebrow at the man, again questioning himself why he hadn't just stayed in the room, Chester stepped onto the stairs. He leant on the wall for support, but didn't shimmy along it like Zane was doing. He heard the wood creak and tried his weight on the next stair before stepping down. It seemed sturdy enough, but old. The smell of the fishy blood and rotting wood was in the air. Chester vaguely wondered if there would be termites. As he took another step and slowly placed his weight on it, he heard an ominous cracking noise. Quickly pulling himself back to the step above, he watched at the step collapsed and fell into nothingness. After a long period of silence, he heard a faint clutter of wood on stone. Panting and heart racing, Chester flattened himself against the cold stone wall. Glancing nervously at Zane he grinned sheepishly. "That was close," he chuckled, calming himself down. There was no need to be panicky in this situation. He surveyed the distance between his stair and the one below the hole. It was an easy jump.
Taking a deep breath, Chester leapt. He landed with a thump, lost his balance and fell. Luckily he fell forwards, not backwards into the hole. He crashed down the stairs and landed on the hard stone ground. Gasping for breath and rubbing his aching limbs, he sat up. "See, piece of cake," he said.

Zane stared at Chester rather wordlessly. Of course he would have spoken if he could, for the lantern's handle in his mouth. Chester wasn't only lost in a video game world, so it seemed, but he was also reckless. He started as the first stair collapsed, the one he was actually on, but did so only partially, leaving the wood under his own feet intact. Then again, he was on more stone than wood. He shook his head, but the younger man didn't seem to be watching him anymore. He closed his eyes when the inevitable creak and leap sounded, and looked back only when Chester spoke again. Safe, at least. Was that a relief...?

Zane didn't answer his own question as he clambered down the rest of the stairs, dug another match from his pocket, and struck it on the stone nearby. At least these were matches which could strike on any surface, rather than specifically on the book or box. "Piece of cake." Zane muttered, lighting the lantern and looking around. A small hallway led to what he assumed to be the basement door. The floor, however, was still smeared with blood. By the drag marks, he could only detail that the item that had been leaking went into the cellar. He whined lowly. "Oh, my. Okay..." He paused. "Okay. The sooner we get in there, the sooner we get out, the sooner we leave this place and the sooner I go home and never ever leave my house again, ever."

Shivering, he stepped forward without Chester, stalking to the door and trying it. The old, termite-eaten wood was weak, but the door opened with a creak that forced a horrible shudder down his spine.

Picking himself up off the ground, Chester rubbed his aching backside. He was lucky he hadn't broken any bones. "I'm gonna hurt in the morning," he muttered. He watched Zane continue without him, seeing the blood on the ground. Why on earth was the man going TOWARDS the drag marks? Why was he even going into a basement? Chester knew from his video gaming experience that basements/cellars, hospitals and schools were the last places you'd want to go explore. "Hey, you could at least wait for me!" he called. As the man went on further, he left Chester in the dark. He heard an odd noise coming from upstairs. It was a kind of low growling, bubbling noise. As if someone was choking on liquid. He nervously looked up, seeing nothing in the darkness.
He rushed after Zane, hating how he had to be so close to another person, but thankful that he wasn't alone in this place. "Look, I don't like you and you don't like me," he started, pulling the man around to face him. "But we have to do this together." The growling sounded closer, accompanied by a slow dragging. "Can you hear that?"

Zane puffed out a breath and let himself be turned on the spot. He'd heard it. But it wasn't from down here. It was from up above them. The area Chester had wanted to go. "Of course I hear it! You'd have to be deaf not to!" He fidgeted with the glass door of the lantern, then paused, and stared up at him. "I never said I don't like you. You must have assumed it after you decided you don't like me. And I'm not. Not. Going up there. No. No." He looked away and shook his head, letting his hair flop into his face. "That's where the noise is coming from. So I'm going to where the blood leads. Doesn't look like anywhere's safe, anyway." He muttered nonsense to himself, mainly about upstairs. Bad places were everywhere.

He shook himself and cleared his throat. "Sounds like the only sign of life is upstairs anyway. Gotta think logically." He muttered the last bit. "Think logically. Whatever lost this blood is dead now. No one can survive this much blood loss. Only sign of life is upstairs. Upstairs, means death. Bad place. Cellar is below the ground, but has more potential to have no murdering bastards down there. That's good." He nodded. "That's good. Downstairs. You coming with me or should we just go different ways? I mean, maybe you'll find another lantern, or a torch or something else." He stepped into the cellar and looked around. Oh, my. Doors. Many doors. And a big room. Was this place a prison too? It gave off the air of entrapment, anyway.

Chester watched him, feeling great dislike and mistrust. It must have come from his phobias, but he felt the air of paranoia too. He glanced back the way they had come. The noise had stopped. "How do you know that that noise is coming from something bad? What if it's someone who can help us?" He understood the man's logic. That definitely sounded like something bad, not someone trying to help him. He wanted to leave, but right now he'd have to put up with Zane. "I don't hate you or anything... I'm Xenophobic," he tried to explain. It reminded him of just a few days ago, explaining to his girlfriend why he disliked her black friend. She had called him a racist and dumped him soon after. He stopped when they came into the room with the many doors. He didn't like it in here.
"What is this? Like a dungeon or something?" he hugged himself, glancing around for anything he could use as a light source or a weapon. "I guess our princess is in another castle." He laughed bitterly at his own joke.

Zane studied him. "Xenophobic...? But I'm the same..." He cut himself off and shook his head. There was little arguing with a phobia. Staring about, he saw various objects, boxes and a few chests, some old barrels, a few piles of old rags that resembled the clothes Zane now wore. The blood trail didn't end, however, but went through the fourth door to the right. Not going that way... Zane's mind told him, and he nodded to acknowledge it, almost missing Chester's bit about the princess. At least he wasn't facing the other man as he rolled his eyes. Who in the world wouldn't get that reference?

He moved along the wall, looking about the area. Shelves of nothing. "No arguing with a phobia." He said at last. "I have a lot. Mainly Achluophobia, fear of the dark, and Entomophobia, fear of insects. This is killing me---Oh! Lookit." He bent down, scooping up a discarded pipe. "Weapon." He held it out to Chester. "Better something than nothing." Something else caught his eye. "Candle." Grabbing it, he looked on the shelves built into the wall. A candle holder. Stuffing one in the other while holding the lantern in his teeth, Zane lit it with another match. "Should do good." He noted, offering it and the pipe both to Chester. "All right. Random pick?" He nodded to the doors. Best to start somewhere.

Chester took the pipe in one hand and the candle in the other. He almost laughed at the irony of receiving a pipe as a weapon. The pipe, or similar, was always the first weapon you found in any horror game. "An axe or knife would have been better," he joked, gripping the cool steel in his dominant hand. He lifted the candle to add to Zane's light. The blood trail led to the forth door, he didn't really want to go through that door. Again calling on his video game experience, he thought of going right. You always went right to reach your goal. He walked closer to the furthermost right door, and peered trough the small opening on the door. He glimpsed two eyes starting back at him and he started, falling back and almost extinguishing his candle. Breathing heavily, he got to his feet and lifted the light. A mirror. He laughed shakily.
"This one," he said, trying the heavy door and finding it unlocked.

Before deciding to follow Chester, as Zane was sure he could catch up even with the lantern’s full reservoir of oil beneath the little flame balanced in his shaking hand, he moved aside some boxes and spied a hammer-like tool. A pipe and a hammer. At least the castle was getting into the deeper modernistic style in one way or another. He scooped up the hammer as something fell behind him. Spinning around, he sighed as he found it was only Chester, picking himself back up. “That way it is!” Zane muttered, and went forward. As it was pushed open, he flew inside.

“Who’s there!?” His voice died before it could echo in the stone hallway beyond. Oftentimes Zane had found it acceptable to act before his phobia could have a say, and because of that, he ran into certain events or actions rather than thought about it. Absolutely nothing other than rearranging stone and wood support beams creaked in the depths of the castle far away, and now, he couldn’t hear the thudding upstairs. “Oh, so dark... so... dark.” He gritted his teeth as his gaze fell outside the pool of light his lantern gave, and Zane’s voice resembled that of someone in relative pain. “Oh, gotta go on though.” He stepped aside so Chester could have room to move, then went forward a bit. The hall was a long one, and he thought he could see some doors further down.

Eyeing the mirror, feeling very hateful towards it, Chester scooted through the door and along the narrow hall. It seemed to be only wide enough for one person, so they would have to go single file. Chester went first, guessing that the man wouldn't want to be the leader, what with all his various fears. He suddenly felt lucky to only have a few, easily managed fears. Foreigners, open spaces, people and spiders. Easy. The man wasn't intimating enough to make Chester fear him, he wasn't a foreigner and this castle seemed nice and enclosed. He had yet to see a single spider... Just as he thought that, he saw large spider webs across the ceiling and stopped.

Oh know... Anything but that... he thought with horror, staring up at the webs. Just out of the range of the flickering light, he saw a long black leg move. No, no, nope, no, no, nope, no, his thought s screamed at him as he fell into a kind of fear coma, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. "Um... We should..." he wished he had a can of fly spray. He shuddered and moved, reluctantly peeling his eyes away from the webs in the ceiling.

As the light went dimmer, the spider scuttled out of its hiding place, watching the intruders with interest. It clicked its pincers together, salivating at another meal. But these things were much to large to eat, so it followed stealthily, waiting for them to sleep.