“Welcome to the Labrinth. You’ve been gathered here for a specific purpose. For the hunt. You have five minutes to run. Simply... run. Survive for 24 hours and you’ll be free to go. Let the festivities commence!”

The voice was raw and static filled. It filled Carlos’s ears from every direction.

It must be over speakers, he thought, as he felt his way down... it felt like a hall. The concrete was rough and damp under his fingertips and he didn’t hear the tell tale hum of lightbulbs so even if he had his sight, it wouldn’t matter. The world would still be black around him. He couldn’t run. He just knew he’d fall down a flight of stairs. So he moved at an unhurried pace, keeping one hand on the left wall at all times. At every other turn, he would move over to the right wall, this way he wouldn’t simply be going in circles.

True to the mysterious kidnapper’s word, five minutes in, screams started. They echoed down the halls, screeching, dying screams that made the hair on his neck rise and his toes curl. He scrunched his eyes shut but he knew it had no point.

He was blind, just as he’d been his whole life, trapped in a maze, like a lab rat, all for the entertainment of a psychopath. People were dying all around him and he couldn’t find anyone, thought he knew they were there. Along with the screams, he could here running, shuffling, breathing. Everything echoed so much. The volume changed, here and there. He assumed the different passages were different sizes. He could feel slight inclines in the floor and he did find staircases. Similarly there were tunnels, the ceiling at waist height. Sometimes he could hear lightbulbs but they were few and far between. He avoided these places, people could see him but he still couldn’t see them. It was easier, in the dark. Some halls went downward, and curves ran to what felt like dead ends.

He felt oddly calm about this situation. He knew he wouldn’t get out of this alive. He could only hope he could get his sight back when he went to heaven.

At least he was calm until he kicked something. His breath caught in his throat and as he bent and felt damp, warm fabric under his hands, smelled a sweet, coppery scent that hung, potent in the air, he gave a sigh. Not of relief. Of resignation. He twisted away from the dead body in front of him and turned his unseeing eyes behind him as he heard the crunch of shoes on concrete. He heard the same raw voice give a breathy laugh. But this time it wasn’t filled with static. This time... it echoed.