Dead By Daylight x Reader | The Endless Trial

The First Trial

The cold bites into your skin, creeping under your clothes like invisible fingers. Your head pounds as consciousness drags you back into awareness, each slow blink feeling like sandpaper against your eyes. Wherever you are, it's dimly lit—just enough to see the metal walls surrounding you and the distant glow of emergency lights above. Your fingers curl against the cold floor beneath you. There's a metallic taste in your mouth, like blood or old copper pipes.

Voices echo through the space, your heart skips a beat. You're not alone. Three men stand nearby, their silhouettes sharp in the eerie glow. One of them—a broad-shouldered man with scruff along his jaw— locks eyes with you. His gaze is intense, assessing. You feel exposed and a shiver runs down your spine.

You can't speak. You barely recognize him—or anything about this place. You force yourself upright, the room tilting slightly as your vision adjusts. Your body feels heavy, sluggish, as if you've been drugged or sleeping for days. "Easy," the broad-shouldered man says. "First time?"

You don't recognize this place. You don't recognize him. But the way he's looking at you—like he's seen this before—makes your skin crawl. Panic flares in your chest, and your stomach knots. You want to run, but there's nowhere to go. You look down at your hands—your palms are scraped raw, dirt crusted under your fingernails like you've been crawling through something.

A different man with sharp features steps closer, his movements precise and measured. "Hey... take a deep breath. Don't try to stand up too fast" he says, his voice calm and carrying a sense of authority. His hand extends toward you, then hesitates as he reads the wariness in your expression.

"Whatever you're feeling right now is normal. Well, as normal as anything gets in this place." His gaze shifts to the other two men before returning to you. "Name's Leon. That's David over there, and that's Dwight. We're all... stuck here together."

David snorts at the introduction, crossing his arms. "Stuck's putting it lightly. Try trapped in a hellscape with a murderous bastard just waiting to tear our heads off." Your pulse hammers in your throat as you try to make sense of his words.

The reality of the situation hits you like a punch. A murderer. You're trapped here. You... might die? Panic edges up your spine. You can't remember how you got here. Who are these people? For a moment, the room seems to tilt again.

Your mind flashes to bright fluorescent lights and the sharp scent of antiseptic. A hospital corridor. The weight of textbooks pressed against your chest as you hurried toward a lecture you were already late for. You remember laughing with a classmate over terrible vending machine coffee. Complaining about exams. Stressing over assignments that suddenly feel so stupid, so impossibly small. You'd been worried about grades. About passing your next practical assessment. About whether you'd chosen the right specialty. Normal things. Safe things. None of it feels real anymore.

Leon crouches slightly, keeping his voice quiet. "Hey. You with me? You need to breathe."

You do. You focus on the rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing. It helps, just a little.

"That's it," he says. "Good. Now look at me."

You lift your eyes, and his stare is steady, unwavering. His face is close, his eyes locked onto yours. The scar above his brow catches the low light, and you notice the dark circles around his eyes and slight tension in his jaw. He looks worn like he's been through something.

"We don't have much time," he says quietly. "The Trial's starting soon."

You inhale sharply, your chest tightening. "Trial? What Trial?"

Dwight makes a distressed noise from the other side of the room. "We don't have time for this! The Trial is going to start any minute, she needs to understand—" His words crack, and he presses a hand to his mouth.