Chapter 113

In a dank cell, Ethan stumbled upon a small booklet.

It appeared to be a journal, left behind by some forgotten prisoner. In the sour, grimy air of the Prison, the pages were strangely pristine, almost defiant in their cleanliness. Ethan cracked it open, curiosity pulling him into the words scrawled within.

Entry One

Who am I? Where am I? Why am I locked in this Prison?

A sharp sting in my skull clouds my thoughts, as if memory itself is a punishment. Around me are others in green jumpsuits, just like me. I’ve spoken to them, and what I learned chills me to the bone. They, too, have no recollection of life before this place. I began to suspect the Prison’s overseers had a hand in this, so I confronted a guard. He brushed me off, his voice cold. Worse, they turned hostile, barking at us to stop faking amnesia and spill what we know about the Prison escapee. They’re desperate to track down this escapee, to learn how they slipped the iron grip of this place.

But how can we tell them anything? We’ve lost everything, not just the escapee but even the crimes we’re supposed to have committed. Or maybe we never committed any crimes at all. What if they dragged us here on false charges and wiped our minds clean?

Ethan paused, his mind turning over the words. The writer was clearly one of the green jumpsuits, claiming that everyone in those uniforms had their memories erased before entering the Prison. The guards, it seemed, were obsessed with this Prison escapee, believing the green jumpsuits had helped them flee the Abyss Prison.