Nightmare
The Scream
“What was the code you saw before?” Yixing asks Kris, walking towards the door.
This room had been a short reprieve from the horrors of the gallery, but Yixing knew that in order to escape, they would need to press on.
“5629. I read it off the painting, maybe I’ll be able to show you,” Kris says, placing his jacket over Yixing’s shoulders.
“You need this more than I do,” Yixing comments, handing it back.
“No,” Kris tells him. “I can take the cold. I’m fine.”
The pair re-enter the previous room finding that the Lady in Red has gone off down a different corridor. The coast is clear, for now. Kris leads Yixing down the hallway, back to the portrait of the Hanging Man. Yixing crinkles up his nose in disgust.
“I know, it’s kind of vulgar.” Yixing nods.
“Vulgar is an understatement,” he says, pointing to the numbers.
“5629?” he repeats.
Kris gives a small nod.
“But the man is hanging upside down,” Yixing points out. “It must be the opposite to what you think it really is. We should try 6295.”
Kris and Yixing backtrack, back to the door with the code that Kris could not break. Yixing types in the numbers, and there is a resounding thud. Kris shakes his head in disbelief.
“I would have never figured that out…” he whispers to Yixing, kissing his forehead.
“Good job.”
Kris pushes the door open, and the pair find themselves in a new room. There’s a small bench with an empty vase that mirrors the other room. There is an easel sitting in the centre of the room, with a small stool next to it. It appears blank, but on closer inspection there is a vase painted on it. There’s no one around, but Yixing can’t help but feel like there is someone watching them. He shivers, glancing over to Kris. Kris gives a small nod.
“I can feel it too.”
Yixing doesn’t like this room, so he pushes the door and exits back into the main gallery. Things have changed, he soon realises. The statues that lined the walls have moved, and there’s the head of a statue, lying just between the two doorways. That wasn’t there before… Yixing decides to ignore this and follows Kris down a corridor. There’s another door.
“That wasn’t there before,” Yixing manages to choke out.
This place is wrong. This place is very wrong. Kris shrugs and pushes open the door, ignoring Yixing’s protests.
“We should check in here.”
But all Yixing wants to do is sit in that other room, the one with the vase, the one where it’s relatively sane.
“I don’t like this at all,” he tells Kris. Kris wraps an arm over his shoulder and pulls him in, walking through the door.
“We’ve got to keep going, Xing.”
The pair enters an empty room. Empty, except for a lone mirror that sits on the wall opposite the door. Yixing walks up to the mirror, and Kris follows. They both just stand there for a few seconds, taking in their disheveled appearances. Their clothes are covered in blood; their skin caked in it. Yixing notices that he should be dead by now, or he should have lost his mind. Yixing shakes his head, turning back around.
“!” he shrieks.
It’s the white head of the statue, just sitting there in front of the doorway, eyeing them both intently.
“Kris…”
But the tall blonde is in a trance, staring into the mirror. Yixing wants to know what is wrong with him, so he walks back, taking his hand.
“Kris?”
Yixing screams as he looks into the mirror. The statue head seems to be floating in midair, right behind Kris. Kris jumps, turning around in surprise.
“! What the hell is that doing there?”
The head is no longer by the door; instead, it’s sitting at Kris’ feet. Kris falls over in surprise, his head hitting the wall behind him. He lets out a low groan.
“Get away from it!” Yixing warns.
But Kris doesn’t budge.
“Cover your eyes!” he tells Yixing.
Yixing complies, but seconds later hears a reverberating smash of glass. He screams, turning to Kris. The head is broken, all over the floor. Kris pulls a piece of china out of his thigh and looks over at Yixing.
“It’s OK. I broke it,” he tells him.
Yixing shakes his head.
“But you’re injured…”
Kris gives him a lopsided grin.
“I’m fine, alright? Let’s just get out of this creepy place.”
Yixing shrieks as he makes his way into the previous gallery. There are two heads, sitting on either side of the door, framing him in.
“Kris…”
Kris limps across, his eyes widening.
“This can’t be good…” he mumbles.
Yixing lets Kris lean on him, and he drags the taller across the room. He sees the glimmer of a key on the floor, but that’s not the only difference. The Lady in Red is back, and the Lady in Blue has somehow managed to weasel her way off the wall, her arms splayed across the floor. She’s too close to the key.
“Kris, can you walk?” Yixing asks. Kris furrows his brow.
“Yes, but-”
“I’m going to distract it.”
“But Xing-”
“Just go grab the key.”
Yixing steps between Kris and the Lady in Red, stepping closer and closer until he is just out of her reach. He twists his leg to the side and runs as she follows, gasping for breath as the Lady in Blue joins in pursuit.
“Have you got it?” Yixing yells down the corridor.
“Got it!” Kris shouts back.
Yixing tries to backtrack, but he’s cornered.
“Xing?” Kris calls. There’s a scream, and Yixing thinks the worst.
“Kris?”
Yixing hears another scream, and he calls out Kris’ name again, watching the corridor intently. There’s deadened silence.
“I’m fine! Another painting fell on top of me. She got a petal, but I’ve managed to get away!” Kris shouts.
“Xing, what about you?”
“I’m fine! Go on without me!”
Yixing looks down to the ground, noticing a trail of blood seeping from his leg. In all the commotion and worry about losing Kris, he had ignored the fact that the Lady in Blue had taken a swing at him. A long gush is swiped below his knee.
“I’m not leaving you!”
Yixing gapes as Kris comes bounding towards him on the other side, dangerously close to the Lady in Red.
“I’ll distract. You come back round, take the right passage. We’ll meet up in front of that other locked door!” Kris shouts.
Yixing gives a curt nod, and kicks his way through the corridor. He turns a corner, almost running straight into the tall blonde. Kris fumbles around in his pocket, reaching for a grey key.
“Here!” he shouts, handing it to Yixing. Yixing presses the key into the keyhole and cries out in excitement as he hears the familiar click of the door.
“Get in!”
Yixing pushes Kris through the door and pulls it shut behind him.
The next room is boxy with darkened walls. There’s a couch in the centre, white and shaped like some sort of tooth, red paint that synthesizes blood pooling down around it. There are three bookshelves and an easel, each in random places on the ground. A large painting sits next to a small observation window that occupies the left wall of the room, opposite the door the pair entered in from.
But Yixing has no answer for him. He’s staring up at the wall, a picture of all too familiar figures occupies the far wall, their eyes watching his every move. There’s a man and a woman, mid-thirties if not older, short, Chinese. A familiar tuft of darkened hair, the familiar facial structure that Yixing has seen since his childhood.
“What is it?” Kris asks, walking over to him.
Yixing swallows loudly.
“My parents.”
Kris studies the faces of the paintings, running a finger over the frame.
“They do resemble you,” he assesses, staring at the woman’s eyes.
“But why would such a painting be down here?”
Yixing has no response. Instead, he gasps as red paint seems to pour out of his mother’s eyes.
“Something’s not right!” he yells. Yixing feels like something is bound to happen in this room; like someone’s watching, waiting to attack.
“Kris, move that bookshelf in front of the window!” Yixing instructs.
“Why?”
“Just do it!”
“Yixing, please! What’s going on?”
Yixing shakes his head, trying his hand at the door. It’s locked. Yixing is sure this is the door they entered from. There’s an eerie silence that permeates the room, and Yixing takes Kris’ hand, leading him to the oddly shaped couch.
“This is no time to sit down!” Kris yells at him. Yixing flinches as a loud cracking sound reverberates the room.
The Lady in Red, the Lady in Blue, in fact, all of the different portraits come hurdling out of a small hole in the wall, crawling their way through into the room.
“We can’t get out!” Kris shrieks, trying to kick one away.
He loses a petal.
“Quick!” Yixing calls.
Four women in total are occupying the floor space, each attempting to steal their life-giving petals. But that is all. Yixing imagines that the only way out must be the way they came in.
“Kris, try that hole! Crawl through it!” Yixing shouts loudly.
Kris shakes his head.
“I’m too big, I won’t fit, Xing!”
“Trust me!”
Yixing shoves the blonde down, pushing his head downwards and through the small hole in the wall. Yixing just hopes he’s not leading them into a trap.
“Xing!”
Yixing lets out a screech of pain as the Lady in Red follows him back through the hole. He sees a large gush on his forearm, but he presses on. Kris finds himself tumbling out of the hole, into the previous corridor. But he realises that they are not alone.
“Xing?”
Yixing pants, exiting the passage behind him. His arm is hindering his movements, but he’s glad to be back out in the open.
“Oh my God…”
Headless statues roam the corridors, and Yixing can’t help but let out a shrill squeal of defeat. Kris takes Yixing’s uninjured arm and leads him down the passage, dodging the headless statues and portraits that fall from the walls to rip them to shreds. He finds an open door and s them both inside.
“I think we’ve outrun them,” he tells Yixing.
“We're safe here.”
Yixing doesn’t believe Kris. He slinks to the floor, hugging his legs into his torso. He begins to rest his weight on his knees, rocking back and forth slowly, trying to stifle his tears. It’s too real. His parent’s faces, the paint… it must be blood. It doesn’t help that the paintings above him look like they're crying tears of blood. And the smiles on them… Yixing shivers, breaking into uncontrollable sobs.
“Xing?” Kris rushes over, kneeling before him. Yixing wants to give up.
“Xing?” Kris repeats.
Yixing closes his eyes, wishing for everything to just go away. He lets his unconsciousness take hold…
Her hand is cold.
Yixing lets out a strangled cry as he tries to get away, to rip his hand out of hers. Her grip is like a vice, and there’s no escape. She lets out a dark chuckle, and Yixing stares in horror as red paint pours from her eyes. She leans closer to him, about to whisper something in his ear. Yixing struggles backwards, but still she presses forward.
She sinks her teeth into Yixing’s neck, and kidnaps his red rose, tearing it to shreds. Yixing is blinking back blood now, the life-giving liquid mixing in with the red paint. Yixing screams as the petals fall, mixing with the blood until there’s nothing left…
“Xing?”
Yixing wakes with a start, his breath rapid. But Kris is there, with his jacket wrapped around him.
“Xing… are you OK?”
Yixing shakes his head, trying to erase the images from his mind. But they won’t let go; they wrap themselves around his consciousness and tear their way through his sanity.
“I… I had a nightmare,” Yixing whispers.
Kris nods, his eyes staring on in concentration. To Kris, Yixing appears like a lost child. Kris reminds himself that this is not too far from the truth, for both of them.
“I see,” he says, “I can’t say I’m surprised… you poor thing…”
Kris rests a hand on Yixing’s shoulder and rubs it soothingly. Yixing closes his eyes at the touch, trying his best to let go. The thoughts don’t stop. Yixing opens his eyes, sighing. He’s going to be haunted by this for the rest of his life, or so it would seem. He doesn’t know if he can live like this.
“Look in the coat,” Kris instructs.
Yixing furrows his brow, but snakes his hand into the coat pocket anyway. There’s a small bar of chocolate.
“Have it,” Kris tells him.
“I can’t,” Yixing mumbles.
“Take it,” Kris repeats. “Perhaps a little sugar will do you good. You’re so pale… Let’s rest here a while longer before we set out again.”
Yixing takes in the room around him for the first time. It’s small and boxy, but to his relief there is not a spot of red paint in sight. There’s an abstract portrait on the wall, and a few bookshelves, but the room has a peaceful feel to it. There’s a vase in the centre, and Yixing sees that Kris has yet again placed both of their roses together.
“Just tell me when you’re ready to move on,” Kris tells him.
Yixing could stay here forever, in Kris’ warm embrace. But there’s a reality up there, waiting for him.
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