Benny had finally gotten some proper rest after what felt like days of endless suffering and barely sleeping. His overwhelming will for self-preservation had somehow guided his body to find a place to sleep.
He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here. His mind was broken enough to have forgotten most of what had happened. But with the apparent light glowing around him, he felt a little more clear-headed. He'd heard that sanctuaries had some effect on a person's psyche—now he understood what that meant. The soft light came from either glowing crystals or some kind of bioluminescent material embedded in the walls.
He examined himself for injuries, treating the wounds that had started getting infested with maggots. Bile rose in his throat as he watched the disgusting creatures slowly eating at his flesh. He hadn't been able to properly clean his wounds in the darkness outside.
Vomiting up whatever he'd eaten would be a waste—he needed those nutrients to keep going. Since his body was refusing to die, he might as well struggle as hard as possible. Hell, he'd claw his way through this place if necessary.
But the question remained: how long had he been down here? There was no concept of time in this place. What felt like seconds could have been hours already.
Since this was supposed to be a safe zone, the first order of business was figuring out just how safe this place actually was.
He crawled out from whatever crevice he'd wedged himself into. With better visibility from the light—though it was dim—he could finally see his surroundings properly.
"This place is huge," he muttered to himself. The ceiling stretched high above him, disappearing into darkness beyond the reach of the wall-mounted lights. Only the darkness waited above, but at least the walls provided enough illumination to navigate.
He moved around to explore what he could use in here. This place would become his sanctuary, after all. After wandering for a bit, he discovered that the space had two entrances. Direction didn't really matter down here—let's just call them north and south, or east and west, depending on where you're standing. It was all interchangeable anyway. Did it really matter what he called the entrances?
In the middle of it all was a circular room with quite a bit of space. He supposed every labyrinth's sanctuary was different.
Finally, he took stock of the resources available. Most importantly, he'd found a water source—a small pool fed by some underground spring. Whether it was safe for human consumption, he had no idea. But from what he'd heard about other labyrinth sanctuaries, the water was usually drinkable and wouldn't cause any problems.
After staring at this valuable resource for what felt like forever, he finally felt his cowardice giving way to desperate recklessness.
"Ah, fuck this! If I die, then I die! I don't care anymore—might as well end it all now!" His deranged laughter echoed through the chamber, his voice hoarse as his throat continued to dry up.
As he approached the water, pulling out his empty water pouch, a voice spoke to him. *But what if it really is dangerous? What if the death you're wishing for is painful and leaves you writhing in agony? Wouldn't that just suck?*
As much as he doubted himself, he also had these voices that either drove him toward insanity or somehow kept him sane.
"Didn't we decide to fuck all of this? Can't you just shut up and leave me alone already!"
The voice didn't reply, but he could feel eyes watching his actions. Not judging, exactly, but the sensation felt weird nonetheless.
Before he could dip his water pouch into the pool, he finished drinking the remaining drops from it first. This might be the last time he'd ever taste clean water. *The voice might be right. I'm scared.* His hand shook as he lowered the pouch toward the water's surface.
The coolness felt refreshing against his fingers. He could hear the liquid filling his pouch, replacing the emptiness with water—the most important resource any living thing needed.
Trying to hype himself up, he talked his way through it. "Hooo, hooo, hooo! Let's do this! Yeah, let me drink this unknown substance! Hahaha!"
He closed his eyes and brought the water pouch to his lips. The liquid entered his mouth, and he let it pool there for a moment, wanting to savor what might be his last taste of anything. It tasted like water, but somehow more refreshing than any he'd ever had. Was this just his body's desperate need talking, or something special about sanctuary water?
He finally swallowed, feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat.
Now he could only wait. He returned to his sleeping crevice—a tight space that felt safe even though it was suffocating and made breathing difficult. The cramped darkness around him triggered his anxiety, making him lose his breath from pure overthinking. What a weak, cowardly way to live. Imagine being so pathetic that you'd hyperventilate just from your own thoughts.
After several minutes of just sitting there, he didn't notice any changes. He wasn't dead yet—he was still alive!
"See? Aren't you relieved, you noisy bastards!" he shouted at the voices that had been pestering him since entering this labyrinth.
Feeling somewhat better, he now had water at least. The main problem was food. What could he possibly eat down here?
He paused to think about it, but exhaustion overwhelmed him again. It was more than just mental fatigue—it was everything he'd been suppressing to survive finally crashing down on him. His body had finally found some sense of relief and was no longer holding back the exhaustion that had been building for days.
Mentally drained, he drifted back into sleep, hoping this time his dreams would be better than the last ones.