Too lazy for a title atm

Memory one

He ran towards the maintenance exit, a hiding place he knew like the back of his hand. They wouldn't find him there, he'd never shown anybody the dozens of routes he constantly wove through each time he knew he would be in deep trouble. 

This will blow over im sure i just have to wait until tensions ease and ill be fine.

But he really fucked up this time. His hearts pound in his chest, with each breath, he feels his head pulsing harder from the first demons grab at his scalp. He shouldn't have fought back, he should have just run like always, but he can't unfeel the lashing of whips on his back. There are two dead gaurdsmen in front of his dorm now, and his friend saw it all. He could trust him not to tell though, at least he wasnt a snitch.

He came to the small metal ladder and burst up it, throwing it open with a clatter. That was louder than he meant to be.

He hears behind him two more men snarling in demonic. He still has a chance, he can still get out, he'll have to take the long way through the maze of old broken down pipelines though, careful not to step on any loose or broken equipment with his bare feet, unable to fly through the tight spaces. Hes confident though, this isnt the first time hes done this.

He sees the old metal door marked "auth or ed pers nel nly" and feels a glimmer of hope after seeing that no ones waiting for him there. He glances over his shoulder, and seeing no one, sighs with relief as he slips inside. He cant risk being careless, even now.

He looks back into the room, hit hard with the noxious smell of rot and chemicals. He can't risk taking his time, either.

The floor was slimy and the room was completely dark except for the occasional flickering light in the ceiling, casting strange and unpredictable shadows around the room. he could see fine, though sometimes he'd rather not, given the surplus of dead animals scattered through the room.

The slime on the floor drove him insane with each step, this is probably what they died from. 

oh well, he hasn't. Not yet, at least.

Every breath he took only became more and more painful. He was panicking, he can't panic. As he jumps between two pipes a spray of gas spews into his face, burning his eyes, nose, and mouth and he tries not to breathe it in. He cries out in pain as he collapses to his knees at the other side, narrowly missing a third pipe. He HAS to calm down. Every breath is now feels filled with fiery knives of panic and chemicals. He wipes his face with his shirt, his tears helping wash away the stinging substance. He has to keep going. He can't panic. He can't take his time.

He slows his breathing, scared of taking in any more than he has to. He can deal with the pain for now, he has to get out.

He gets up shakily and keeps walking, now filled with sharp pains in his knees. The adrenaline is the only things keeping him alive, hes sure of that. So he holds onto it for dear life.

He sees the exit and smiles with grim relief, kicking a mutant rat thats been killed but left uneaten due to its toxicity. Hes not alone... he will be soon enough.

He pushes all his weight against the door as it opens with a shriek. He can sympathize with the door. The door gets him.

He lets go and bolts across the next room, leaping over old boxes and outdated equipment. Hes so close, hes already planning out the next move.

He runs into another hallway and quickly counts the rows of unmarked doors. the fourth door on the left side is unlocked but hard enough to open to convince anyone that its secure like the others. But theres a certain way to open it that only he knows.

He dashes towards it and begins the painstakingly tedious process.

at last it opens. He cringes, all the care in the world couldn't quiet the scraping of metal on metal. It echoes, then keeps echoing, even after he stops pushing. He stares into the hallway he was just in, temporarily forgetting his agony. Is it still echoing? His face turns pale. Its still echoing. His breathing becomes ever shallower. Its still echoing. He realizes thats not an echo, the other doors are opening and shutting. He is not alone.

He's never been followed here.

They wouldnt know.

They've never known before.

He never left a trace.

Someone must have seen him.

He's never told anyone.

Almost anyone.

Footsteps and shouting.

His legs refuse to move. His hearts pound so loudly; if they havent seen him, theyve definitely heard him.

He has to run before they do.

Maybe theyll give up.

Maybe theyll assume hes too weak to survive this place.

And it will be okay.

But he has to run.

Now.

He hears his name called out sharply and it snaps him out of idleness like a flame. He pushes off deeper into the catacomb-like structures, feet stinging in pain from the rough metal floors and the toxic sludge. He tries his best to reassure himself as he methodically weaves through the dark. Two straights, two rights, one left, four straights, two lefts, nine straights, one left, one right, two straights. It will be fine, no one knows the way through. Almost no one. The thought stings him all over, so he pushes it far back into the corners of his mind. It smells like death.

He hears barking and feels slightly proud of himself. He's so hard to catch that they had to get the wolves.

But this means they arent going to give up.

The howling and snapping quiet. He smiles, hes leaving them behind, and the thick stench of decay would make tracking him impossible. Hes safe.

All he has to do now is get to his hideout and wash his face. Hopefully he water he collected hasnt been spilt.

He runs face first into the gate, its a painful but welcome feeling. he throws it open and shuts it behind him, reaching for the light. With a heavy CLICK and a shutter, the light comes on. He closes his eyes and greets the soft hum of machinery, quickly calming to the familiar noise.

His name is called again from behind him.