Nobody is stupid enough to venture into unknown territories, except for Ilya. Don't get him wrong! He never meant to enter that mysterious village.
Fate led him there to save, or be saved.
"Peekaboo!"
Beast is a cruel creature that used to be human...
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In the middle of this vast darkness, that elevator stared at Ilya with a black void resembling an open mouth, willing to swallow him whole. Blood stained its buttons. The light was off on its display panel. The air was thicker around it.
Everything about that elevator was eerie. However, it would take more than a dark hall to scare Ilya away. After all he'd been through, nothing would stop him from using that elevator.
His smile grew wider. Eyes twinkled when the flashlight shone on the way to freedom. The chuckle he let out intertwined with hidden sobs of solace.
In a quiet breath, he spoke, "Thank God."
Happy tears flowed down his cheeks. He had doubted Beast's words about the other way out, but now he knew he was telling the truth. The way out was right before his eyes.
But would Beast let him go that easily? Ilya wasn't planning on waiting around to find out.
Letting go of the wall he used for balancing his weary body, Ilya stepped towards the exit. His legs faltered, his breathing got faster, and his limbs started to go numb, but Ilya kept going. The sickness was prominent in his once vibrant face, now pale and damp with sweat and blood.
Nonetheless, he kept going, fueled by the will to survive.
Nearly there, Ilya quickened his footsteps. However, the nearer he got, the thicker the atmosphere, the fouler the smell. A soul tormented beyond human grasp did not focus on anything but freedom.
Ilya ran the remaining steps, ignoring the unsettling change in the hall.
He reached the elevator in one piece, with no interruptions, no new terror. It seemed too good to be true. The eager boy grabbed the sides of the metal door and peeked down the shaft.
The moment the smell hit his nose, Ilya instantly hurled. He let go of the elevator doors and got on his knees, vomiting on the floor.
That weird awful stench. It was a hundred times worse than Martha's.
Ilya continued retching and throwing up until the contents of his stomach scraped his throat. When his stomach was finally empty, yellow acids burned and poured out of his mouth. Then when he was all out of it, he started dry heaving and crawling as far away from that awful awful smell.
He wiped his mouth and sat down, leaning against a wall stained with hand marks of other people before him who tried to escape. His throat was too dry for him to even breathe. Coughs and heaves only made things worse. He closed his mouth and tried to breathe through his nose. He swallowed but no saliva was being produced.
His body was dehydrated and exhausted. His tired eyes bulged behind dark circles, and the whites of them turned velvety with the lack of fluids in his system. His face turned from pale to sickly yellow. Eyes stung and burned. Chapped lips. Harsh scratchy breaths that hurt to even breathe.
