She woke up, her eyes sore and stiff, until the flickering lights blinded her, causing her to shut them once more. She braced herself before opening her eyes again. She blinked, once, twice, adjusting to the light falling on her face. Her mind was rushing. She didn’t remember how she got here, she didn’t know who she was, nothing. Her hands fisted the white sheets beneath her, and her nails dug into her palm, imprinting crescent moons. Her legs pushed against restraints, binding her knees to the steel frame of the bed, refusing to let her go.

She turned slightly, and her eyes caught sight of the pale shadow of a girl, wearing all white, some type of hospital gown. The color matched the pale shy tones of her skin, and her eyes were a striking blue, with round ringlets curled around her head, framing her face in a way that made her look young and naive. Flowing down her arm was an IV, inserted into her arm, and small scabs danced around her wrist, painting her arm into a canvas of purple and yellow.

_Who was this girl?_

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The lights flickered above her, snapping her out of her stupor. She immediately shook, a chill dancing its way down her spine. She had to get out of wherever the hell this was. She struggled against the restraints, her hands coming up to fiddle with grey bands. She pulled and pulled, but it held firm. She looked towards the mirror once more, where she saw a larger needle, inserted into her upper left arm.

_How had she not noticed it?_

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Her arms grasped the needle and pulled it out. She winced at the blinding pain that caused her head to feel light, but quickly shook it off. She _needed_ to get out. She brought the needle to the restrains, and stabbed through it. The tip of the needle was sharp, protruding from the thick fabric. They split with one final pull and her legs fell down the side of the bed. Her bare feet hit the cold tile floor, and a cold rush of air stung her knees. As she stood up, she took sight of her surroundings.

It was a small room, completely covered in white. The floor was glistening, the pristine tiles near blinding. Inside the room was a small bed, a white drawer, and an assortment of medical equipment. That was it. It was some kind of hospital room, but for what?

_Why was she here?_

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She walked up to the drawer, searching for something. Something that would tell her who she was. On top of the drawer was a file, which seemed almost empty. She grabbed the file, her fingers running up and down the writing. 

_Ariande - Class 7_

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What? A confused sigh escaped her lips, and she placed the file back on top of the drawer. Before she could open the drawer, an alarm went off. A blaring sound reverberated through the room, distorting her senses for a split second. The sound continued, and now the lights turned red, bathing the room the very same color. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The alarms crackled, and a voice replaced the blaring noises.

_Class 7 will now be moving to phase 2._ The voice buzzed and crackled as it traveled through the air. She was painstakingly aware of her breathing, of the small, sharp exhales, and suddenly she remembered a voice was calling her. It was soft and still, and the last words floated away. It seemed like a distant memory, a soft caress, and once it left, the alarms blared again, and a cold enveloped her. Her nostrils filled with the scent of disinfectant and lemons, and it was _familiar_. She had smelt this before, somewhere.

She hurriedly opened the drawer, only to be faced with a gun. Without letting herself hesitate, she grabbed the gun and headed to the door. She cautiously wrapped a hand around the knob, before turning it. The alarms were still ringing, each one louder than the last, and the hallways outside of the room were no different than the place she was just in. However, the eeriest part of this weird place she was in was the way that the dozens of kids her age, were moving in eerie synchronization with her. 

The faces seemed oddly familiar. A green-eyed girl stood to her right. She had looked into those green eyes and shared secrets with that girl. She had been someone to the boy standing in front of her. She _knew _that. She _remembered _that. But she couldn’t piece together anything else. What use was a memory if she didn’t know anything else?

She took a step, and just as she took a step back, they took a step forward. Every kid mirrored at the same time, eyes trained on only her. What was going on? Her fingers brushed there trigger of the gun, and she brought it up, arm trembling, pointing it at the boy in front of her. Was she testing something? Or was it a threat? 

His face remained blank, and he brought the gun up, alongside the dozens of children. The alarms were ringing now, faster than ever. It seemed that it was a timer, ticking down the seconds before the bomb exploded. How could she escape this hellish nightmare? Why was everyone copying her? Was this some sort of mental asylum?

Her lips trembled, and her knees felt weak. She needed to remember something. Waves of nausea hit her, hard and fast, and she wobbled a little bit. Her head was reeling. What was happening? How could she not remember anything? She knew she needed to do something. Something that would get her out. It was important. _That_ she remembered. She remembered being in a dark room, a hand had grabbed her upper arm, pushing it forward. A sharp whizzing sound filled the air before a sharp sting hit her wrist. She gasped and tried to pull back, but the person held her arm firm. Hot tears stung her cheeks and the room echoed with her sobs. 

Another set of alarm sounds ringing through brought her out of her reverie. She bristled at the way the sounds pierced her, and slowly brought her wrist up, trying not to look up and see the way everyone copied her. This time there was a scattering of black covering her wrist.  The letters were clean and sharp, the edges threatening, but the words were the more horrifying of them all. Inked into her skin was _Death is the only escape._

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Another ring of the alarms enveloped her senses, and she was brought into the dark. Suddenly, she was back in that room again, and this time she was standing in front of the green-eyed girl. She was frightened. Horror was etched into the lines of her beautiful face, and tears bled down her face. She remembered the girl breaking into sobs right in front of her, before hugging her, tight and fast, knocking the air out of her lungs. She inhaled sharply, and a whiff of lavender attacked her senses. She shut her eyes, and suddenly the world went blank, but her finger shifted to the trigger. Even with her eyes closed she knew the familiar feel of the steel, worn and _used_. She pressed her lips together, muffling a choked sob that threatened to escape before pulling the trigger. The body that once hugged her now fell limp, falling to the floor with a thud. She knelt before whispering the very words inked into her skin.

_“Death is the only escape.”_

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What did that even mean? Death was the only escape? She dropped her hand, horrified, and everyone else did too. This was getting worse, and suddenly, she was spiraling. It was mocking her, the walls, the mirrors. They were all a blank canvas, mirroring the state of her mind. The people mocked her too, mirroring her every action as if mocking her stupidity of not knowing what to do. And then it struck her. 

The file.

She ran inside the room, her hands slipping against the knob until it turned the right way. Her palms were sweaty, and her breathing ragged. She opened the file, hoping to find some kind of paper inside, with information. She was let down, and her breath hitched. What was going on here? If this was some kind of hospital, where were the doctors? Other patients?

She turned around, to face the mirror, and was met with the same words, over again, scrawled in a messy script. It seemed as though someone had dipped their finger in ink and written _Death is the only escape_. Why did those words matter? Her heartbeat grew as she continued to stare at the words on the mirror, the ink now slowly dripping down to where her face was reflected onto the glass, giving her deep black tears, spilling down her cheeks. She brought her hand up as if checking the reality of the reflection. Upon her touch, she felt a waterfall of tears. With every second that passed, the alarms grew more intense, and her heartbeat rose. Her breaths grew more ragged, and her eyes blurred. She stumbled, and fell to her knees, her wrist falling face up, reminding her once more of the ominous phrase. 

The gun slipped from her hand and fell in front of her and then the world quieted.

She needed to die. _Death _was the only _escape_. She looked up, meeting her own eyes in the mirror, as she brought herself up. Her arms shaking, she bent down to grasp the gun lying on the floor. She raised it until it was at her forehead. Her hands shook, now, more violently than before, and her palms were sweaty, threatening to drop the gun. She inhaled sharply, the world cutting out. A final alarm reverberated as if her time was all out, and she bit her tongue in surprise, eliciting a curse as blood filled her mouth. The rustic taste sent chills down her back, and she spit it out, tainting the pristine floor. All she saw was her reflection in the mirror. Who was this girl in front of her? Was she a murderer? Was she the girl who killed her friend? _Was_ the green-eyed girl a friend? Her teeth grit together, and the gun trembled against her temple, the cool metal biting against her skin. She breathed sharply, and before she could exhale, she looked into her own eyes, a piercing blue, and they mocked her hesitation. She shut them, refusing to look. A raw sob ripped through her, wracking her whole body. She was about to _kill _herself. She didn’t even know who she _was_, and she was about to end her life. 

The intercom crackled once more, breaking the silence, and the air buzzed.

_“DEATH IS THE ONLY ESCAPE.” _The voice screeched,_ _bringing her back.

She opened her eyes again and was met with the same blue ones, and this time they didn’t mock her. They pleaded with her. She blinked, and the plea was gone.

“Stop it!” She cried, pressing the gun firmer into her skull. Was she pleading with herself, or whoever seemed to be giving her orders through the speakers up above? The metal dug into the bone, and the pain heightened her senses. There was no final reverie, no epiphany, nothing. She stared at her reflection, breathed, and before she could exhale, pulled the trigger. 

Pain reverberated through her skull, and her teeth clamped together. The shot echoed, and then there was pain. So much pain. She fell to her knees, her body falling limp, and just as a large ravaging scream left her mouth, everything went black.

She woke up again, this time to a man's voice. 

“Congratulations, Project Ariande, you have officially beat the simulation.”