Nightmare Game
Copyright© 2025 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 51
Ethan awoke there, mind still hazy.
Struggling to shake off the castle’s thrills, it seemed Rosie’s destruction of the last carnivore doll had reborn Bella.
Her light then purged the Vile Gaze’s darkness, barely saving him.
That appeared the sequence.
But...
Was it truly?
Distinguishing castle events as dream or reality proved elusive.
Paralysis pinned him down, unable to move.
He lay staring upward, mentally timing seconds.
After roughly thirty minutes, tension stiffened his face.
“Something’s wrong.”
Alarm bells rang; this might not be his hospital!
Double room, neighbor bed empty, normal so far.
But half an hour without a sound, no nurses checking in.
Only his breaths echoed in the vacant space, heartbeat thumping like drums in his ears.
He inhaled deeply to calm, straining to turn his head and scan, but rigidity slowed him.
Windows shut tight, curtains half-drawn, dim light filtering through.
“What’s going on?”
The familiar layout only heightened unease; it matched his old ward, yet the eeriness screamed foul play.
As if the whole hospital housed him alone.
He avoided yelling; paralysis muted his voice to whispers, needing close listeners.
Brain whirring, he pondered the scenario.
Had an anomaly struck the hospital during his castle stint?
Or, post-castle dream, he’d entered another, mimicking the familiar?
But in a paralysis-bound world like the castle, he’d be helpless prey.
His spirits sank; immobilized, gathering intel impossible, just waiting passively.
Time dragged, eroding patience. Wolf’s hunting lessons preached calm in crises, baiting with feigned vulnerability.
But circumstances differed; ideas useless without mobility. He was fish on a board.
Relaxing, he entered meditation, letting moments slip by.
Just as he resigned to starving unattended, footsteps sounded outside.
One heavy, one light: likely man and woman.
Ethan tensed with anticipation.
Regardless, isolation and helplessness made self-doubt the worst foe.
Overthinking drained resolve, breeding despair.
Steps neared, halting at his door.
Spirit taut, he strained his neck toward it, heart racing uncontrollably.
Soon, two entered.
The man tall and striking, in navy suit with deep red tie, exuding poise and gravitas, hair neatly side-combed with silver strands.
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