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墨書 Inktalez
Ethan slipped into the bathroom, leaning against the door as his fingers trembled while turning the hot water to its maximum. The scalding water poured down from the showerhead with a powerful rush, creating a barrier that separated him from the outside world. The sound of the water echoed in the cramped space, gradually drowning out his chaotic thoughts. Ethan stripped off his clothes, allowing the scorching water to wash over him. The heat reddened his skin, but this pain brought him a fleeting sense of calm.
"Ha... ha..." Ethan's heavy breaths intertwined with the sound of the flowing water. His body shivered slightly under the high temperature, as if this boiling water could wash away all his fears and madness. The hot water splashed against his face, blurring his vision and granting him a moment of numbness and peace, as if this intense heat could burn away the crushing realities he faced.
However, beneath the sound of the rushing water, a low voice began to emerge, like some sinister mockery. It was deep and distorted, seemingly rising from a corner of the bathroom, gradually becoming clearer, laced with profound disdain and amusement. It echoed in his ears, carrying an indescribable eeriness that pierced into Ethan's heart.
"Look at you... this is how you are..." The voice seeped from the darkness as if it had been waiting for this moment.
Ethan suddenly opened his eyes wide; the water cascaded over his face as he trembled, gripping the edge of the sink tightly. The fear within him surged once more. He couldn't comprehend where this voice was coming from; it felt as if it erupted from deep within him, beyond his control. It whispered in his ear, mocking him shamelessly, exposing truths he could not escape.
"Stop... please, just stop!" Ethan cried out uncontrollably, his voice shaking with despair. His body quaked from the excessive heat of the water as he weakly covered his ears with trembling hands, trying to block out that low voice that continued to invade his sanity. But it did not relent; instead, it grew sharper and more taunting.
"You think you can escape? You can't do anything; you're utterly powerless..." The voice sliced through him like a knife with its piercing cold laughter.
Ethan's tears mingled with the water flow, blurring his vision as he felt himself slipping closer to the edge of collapse. The voice echoed relentlessly in his ears, making it impossible for him to distinguish between reality and illusion.
"I haven't done anything wrong... why... why is this happening to me..." Ethan's voice trembled to near inaudibility as silent tears streamed down his face, an overwhelming sense of helplessness swelling within him. He couldn't understand why all this fear and pain had suddenly descended upon him, why everything was tormenting him as if he were a chosen victim.
"Please... let me go..." Ethan covered his face with trembling hands, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably, filled with endless pain and despair. The low voice still circled around him, seemingly reveling in his breakdown and mocking his helplessness.
Amidst the scalding water flow, Ethan's sobs intertwined with that mocking voice, plunging him into an abyss of darkness from which he could not escape.
Choking on sobs under the torrid stream of water, Ethan felt himself gradually losing control as waves of inner anguish crashed over him. Desperately glancing at the bathroom mirror, he clung to a sliver of hope, trying to use reality to prove that he was still normal—that he was still the familiar self he knew. If only he could see that ordinary face reflected back at him in the mirror, he could reassure himself that all of this was merely an extension of fear and illusion rather than reality.
He turned his head with great difficulty, his eyes fixed on the mirror. The mist hung like a thin veil, temporarily obscuring the reflection within. Ethan trembled as he reached out, slowly wiping away the condensation from the glass. As the fog gradually dissipated, he struggled to focus on his face, praying that the familiar features were still there.
However, as the image in the mirror became clearer, a horrifying, grotesque face reappeared before him.
It was not his face—it was a twisted visage, resembling rotting flesh, with skin cracked and marred by blood and claw marks, like the remnants of someone who had been flayed alive. The decaying flesh hung limply, exposing white bone at the bridge of the nose, while the eyes were sunken deep into blood-soaked sockets, radiating an indescribable evil and resentment, as if it were a ghost from hell.
Ethan instantly broke down; the last shred of his sanity was utterly shattered at the sight of that face. Despair echoed in his mind, as if he were being tormented by an inescapable horror.
“No! No—!” Ethan screamed in agony, his voice echoing hauntingly in the cramped bathroom. He felt as though that face was mocking him deliberately, wearing a malicious grin that continued to torment him, reveling in his pain and helplessness.
“I can’t take it anymore!” Ethan shouted, his eyes reddened with fear and despair. He could no longer endure the torment of that face, nor withstand this inescapable terror and suffering. For a week now, he had lived in dread and anxiety, his mind walking on a razor's edge. And today, that face emerged once more, as if with some twisted sense of amusement, intentionally torturing him and enjoying his breakdown.
Ethan's sanity completely snapped. He raised his fist abruptly and swung it at the mirror with all his might. “Get away! Stay away from me!” he roared. As his fist struck down, the mirror shattered with a sharp crack. Shards flew everywhere, reflecting countless faces he feared; that twisted visage still wore its eerie smile in every fragment of glass, as if this nightmare would never end.
Blood dripped from Ethan's knuckles onto the bathroom tiles, but he felt no pain—only that face remained before him, an unshakeable curse that consumed all of his sanity.
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