Amnesia: The Painter's Prison [An OSC AU]

OUVRIR

NOTICE!!
From this point on, the chapters will be getting kinda graphic. There will mostly be descriptions of gore and blood. If you have a weak stomach, I suggest not going any further.

Thank you, and enjoy the newest chapter.
—
Paintbrush slowly woke up when the feeling of their comfy bed was replaced by the shivering cold. In front of their eyes, Baxter stared back at them, blinking twice. "Ugh, Baxter...I already fed you..." the paintbrush sighed as they began to adjust to their surroundings. Above them held by a rope was a creaky lantern, swaying from the rafters. No longer were they in the comfort of their own bed, but now lying on a dirty cot with nothing but a bloody pillow and a thin blanket. The walls were made of cobblestone and poorly maintained bricks. The floor was mostly dirt, but some dry remains of an unknown liquid remained imbedded in the ground. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a small table, which held a cassette player on its top. The rope the lantern connected from was attached to the barred door that held them within this room.

Paintbrush slowly leaned up, Baxter hopping into their bristles. "What th-...?" They muttered before chuckling under their breath, "Okay, Test Tube! This is reaaaaall funny! You got me, you know! Using me for one of your experiments, huh? You sure got me, huh?" They said to no one, putting their hands on their sides. They sat there, waiting for some sort of punchline. Waiting for Test Tube to come out and reveal that this was all one big elaborate prank or experiment. After a minute or two of nothing, sweat rolled down their bright brown wood.

"...This isn't a prank, is it, Baxter?"

Paintbrush slowly got up from the cot, looking around the room for any kind of hidden camera. Test Tube HAD to have put SOME in this room, right? Yet...all there was were stone bare walls. They put their hand in their palm and groaned, then looking over to the cassette player on the table. "Okaaaay Test Tube, real weird you don't have any cameras in here..let's just see what you have to say, huh?" Paintbrush picked up the cassette player, noticing that there was already a tape in it. They pressed the red play button on the cassette, listening to whoever was behind this speak through the radio.

"Uh, is...this thing on. Okay, uh...hello. You are now listening to my disembodied voice. It...won't be any use looking for me. This is mostly a voice from the past, and...also I'm not really in the place right now. Either way, I uhh...welcome you to The Cellar. Just...something I decided to make in my free time for fun. A set of recordings have been made to...help you through the-hold on...can you stop screaming, please? I'm trying to talk to this person. Uh-...thank you. Anyways, there are a few parts to this uhh...game...and it's up to you, not only to win, but figure out which...elements...are important. Go ahead. Move into the next chamber. Oh, and...just remember. They can all be saved. There's always a way."

The cassette player clicked off. The voice was that of a male, groggily and tired. It almost sounded like he wasn't fully prepared for what was going on. Paintbrush rolled their eyes and set the cassette player down. "Whatever...come on, Baxter...how do I even get this thing open?" They said as they tried fiddling with the lock to the cell door. No luck. That's when they remembered the lantern, and the rope that swung from it connecting to the lock outside. "Oh, that makes a lot more sense," they mumbled and grabbed the lantern from the rope. Once the weight was pulled off, the rope swung to the ground, and the door opened with a sturdy creaking noise. The paintbrush lifted the lantern out towards the inky darkness, illuminated by the light.

Paintbrush continued to trudge through the darkness of the cellar. The smell of rotting mean and bile made their stomach turn violently, almost warranting them to puke on the spot. Yet they still stomached in and pressed on. It was quiet save for the sound of dripping liquid from the ceiling and mice crawling around scraps of moldy food.

Then, they came across the first body.

It was a jar of honey, the golden honey they kept inside their glass spilling out onto the floor like blood. A giant crack was made to the side of their head, honey slowly dribbling down their mouth. The body looked quite fresh, which made Paintbrush even more sick. Whoever this person was...it was terrible to think about who else could've endured this kind of madness. Paintbrush quickly swallowed down another gulp of pride and began trudging forward again, abandoning the poor soul who bled out behind them.

They didn't know how much longer they had before collapsing.

They just needed to get to the door, pronto.

They were getting tired.

So so tired.

"Helloooo...?"

The sound of a familiar voice made Paintbrush wake up right then and there. That voice...

A voice that filled them with hope that they would survive this.

A voice that filled them with hope that they would save...THEM!

"SUITCASE!!"