"Right. So, are you ready? Once you go in, you don't have any choice to come out. Only we will. Then again, you..."

And there it was. What was? You didn't know. Know what?

The sun shone brightly high over the empty beach. The gentle sound of the sea rubbing up against the shore echoed through your empty head, almost hypnotic, the way it came in and out on cue, just a sound in the background as your mind wandered. A little ways out and a little ways left was a small island, but you couldn't really call it an island, so much as just land that let the sea pass around, disconnecting it from the mainland. This small area had a single palm tree with a few coconuts still clung under it's leaves, though they looked just about ripe enough to fall. The whole setting on that small island was very clichd, but nonetheless beautiful, matching the rest of the enthralling detail this tropical beach had. But wait... was this beach really tropical? It may look that way, but you have no recollection of going anywhere tropical.

Your mind is no longer wandering. Everything is thinking of where you were, and more, how you got here. Looking around at the setting again, everything seems dimmer. The once crystal blue sea is now dull, seemingly lacking life, as if it hit the shore now without as much effort. The cerulean sky has faded into a light gray, losing its sheen the bright sun had once given it. Everything else seemed to follow the new standard. With this new doubt, this questioning of the beautiful beach, it had become less appealing. It was still indeed fantastic, but for some reason, not knowing where you are or why you are here drains for the beauty.

Ack, your mind was wandering again, back to the matter at hand. The best way to find out why you are here may be to find out where you are. And the best way to find that out is to ask someone. Who that someone is, you know not, as you have not seen a soul since you came to your senses on the beach. You had better look for someone.

You turn around to notice a cobblestone path winding up a tall rocky hill, with a small building atop it. The beach must have distracted you from this earlier, as the large hill and dark stoned path are rather apparent now. With little else to do, you make your way slowly up the path, your head hung down on your shoulders, your eyes watching the each stone pass beneath your feet.

It was odd. You were the thinking type. You loved to examine every little detail, and make sure you see every angle of everything. But it seemed so hard to think when you know so little already. It would just be best to find somewhere to rest and finally get all the thinking through and out. It felt like a literal weight on your shoulders at the moment. Many questions begging to be answered, but it just didn't feel like the time to think about them.

Breaking from this new train of thought, you look up to find yourself already before the building you had spotted from the beach. Upon closer inspection, this building is far from new. The door is an old wood, with a few red paint flakes still clinging to the wood. The walls of the building itself are a white-pink. They could have been a deep pink before, and the years of exposure to the ocean winds could have dimmed the paint, but you'll never know for sure.

Raising a fist, you tap it against the wooden door, half expecting no response. But the moment your knuckles meet the door, you hear shuffling from inside the building. Even this, your mind considers. What kind of shuffling is it? As you listen, it seems hurried. Your best guess would be putting something around quickly before answering the door, or possibly hiding, but honestly, it couldn't matter that much. The fact was someone was inside, and they could very well be your ticket to knowledge.

As you blink out of thought, the door swings slowly open, revealing a tall man standing in the shadow of the doorway. Knowing it would be wrong to stare and study the man like you normally would have, you quickly gulp and speak.

"Ah, excuse me. I don't really know where to start, but whe-", you manage to get out before the man responds.

"Enjoy the house. It'll last as long as you need it. Let's both hope that isn't too long." With that, the man raises his hand, now making a handgun obvious in his grip, his finger resting on the trigger. Only in rare cases do you speak before you think.

"Wha... Wait! Why?!" is all you can manage to sputter out before the man pulls his finger tight on the trigger, resulting in what could be called the last thing you'd ever want to do to your mind. It belongs in your head, not splattered on the door like the tall man's here.

So, what now? Ah, there was so much to think about now. You need a room, need a desk. Somewhere quiet where you can sit down and think. Alright, that sounds like a plan. Taking a deep breath, you take a step over the tall man's slumped body into the building. As you pass over him, your mind takes the time to scan the man for his features. He was actually a rather good looking man, besides the gaping whole in the side of his head. He was clean shaven, and his chin came to a sharp point. His body seemed rather fit, from what you could tell, but his ragged clothes seemed to hide most of that feature.

As you stand in the middle of this first room now, you take your time looking around. You were in a sort of living room, though it wasn't very welcoming. The floors were wooden, along with most of the stuff in here. A lone wooden bench was pressed against the right wall, though it looked too worn and splinter-ridden to really be comfortable. The walls were bare, with only random stains and cracks to fill the void the picture less wall had. Before you were a hallway on your forward left and another room on your forward right. The right room looked like a kitchen, from what you could tell through the open doorway.

Though the obvious first choice would be to enter and check out the kitchen, upon further thought, you really wanted to find a bedroom or study to sit down and think, so the hallway it is. As you walk across the old wooden floor, it creaks beneath you, some floorboards giving way under your weight a little bit, though none seem to be broken as your make your way into the hallway.

Two doors. One on your right, and one at the end of the hallway, both with closed doors. Another decision, though this time, the choice was obvious. The back door, of course. Checking the right door would be the normal thing to do, as it was closer, but you liked to do things different, so the back door screamed to be checked first. So you walk down the hallway, passing the door on the right and stopping before the door at the end of the hall. Lifting your hand and resting it on the dull brass doorknob, you turn it and push, swinging the door open without a squeak, surprisingly.

Perfect, a bedroom. Well, this bedroom was far from perfect, a single mattress on the floor, with the old bed norm of springs sticking out from it. Against the back wall is a single desk, but it was nothing more than a table really, with one of those metal fold out chairs, the cushion missing from it. But it was what you needed. What you wanted. A place to sit, to think, to lay out the plan, whatever that was. You approach the chair, pull it out from under the desk and sit down on the metal frame. It wasn't really comfortable, cold actually, but better than nothing. You put your elbows onto the desk, and intertwine your fingers together, resting your lips and nose against your hands. Now, it was time to think.

Who am I? No, that's a bad question. You know who you are. Devvon Right. But... something was off... There was more to you, you knew who you were, but you don't remember... what? What don't you remember? Ah, that was it. Memories. Suddenly, it was all clear, or as clear as it could be. You had no memories. You knew who you were, the kind of person you are, but no matter how you tried, you couldn't remember if you had a family, where you lived. It was as if you had always been this person on that beach. But that couldn't be. Everyone one at this age has memories, good and bad. But what made this feel so awkward was that it didn't feel strange not to have memories. Of course, though, without knowing your memories, you have nothing to miss about them.

Well, it's pointless to worry about it now. Memories or not, you are alive, and if need be, you can make your own memories again, but not here, wherever here is. So that was it. You're not staying here. No way. The tall man had said it himself, you don't want to stay here long. And for some reason, this all makes you very curious. Thinking is one of your favorite things to do, and this is just like out of a book. Alone, without any memories, trying to find out the mystery, although, you can't recall ever reading a book like that; you just know one must exist.

Your mind wanders back to the tall man's appearance, and then your own. You have memory of it, but there is no better way to remember than to stare into your own eyes in a mirror. The planning will have to wait, as just remembering how you look is more important now. Standing up, pushing the chair back as you do so, you walk out of the room and to the door you had past. Knowing the basic layout of the house now, you can assume this room is... Yep, the bathroom, you think, as you swing the door open. This bathroom is surprisingly well kept, though it still looks worn and old. You rush in, not bothering to close the door behind you as you lean up on the sink, bringing your face close to the mirror.

This is you, Devvon Right. You are taller than average, maybe 5'10'', 5'11'' and you weigh probably around the average. Your build is rather scrawny for your height, making you look lanky, however it doesn't mean you don't have muscle. You run a hand through your slightly shaggy light brown hair, your dull green eyes scanning your face, which is clean cut with a friendly look. An obvious feature that stands out is your nose which is slightly bigger than your average nose, which again, you can't necessarily recall, but you just know, is smaller. Perhaps you are German. You run a hand down your chin, letting it drop of from the end of it. Nothing odd stands out about it, it doesn't come to a sharp point like the tall man's, nor is it chiseled and square. All in all, your facial features and body build come out to make you a nice looking man, with no apparent age marks, so you'll have to find out your age elsewhere.

Well, you're relieved to know you look how you remembered, but the more important matters at hand come back to you. With one more glance into the mirror, you leave the bathroom and head outside, wary to step over the tall man's corpse once again. To your left is the cobblestone path, leading down the rocky hill to the once gleaming beach, which now holds a dull sheen in your view. You then look right, and once again you are amazed you didn't notice it earlier. This is an island. The previous beach you were on is the only area that goes down to touch the water. The rest of the shore is all rocky cliffs. What's more, this island is very close to another landmass, so close, in fact, that a exaggeratedly long rope bridge is connecting it to the island. With a squint of your eyes, you can see the rope bridge starts a little ways down from where you are, and connects to the landmass at the bottom of a valley, the rest of the land is high above where the rope bridge meets the ground.

So it looks like that'll be where you head next. However, there doesn't seem to be much civilization from what you can see, so maybe it would be best to prepare for a long trip. The thought of carrying a lot of stuff comes to mind, and you realize you didn't notice your clothes earlier. You look down, and hold the ends of your shirt out at the bottom a bit, to examine it better. A normal grey t-shirt, how interesting. And it seems you are wearing a normal pair of jeans which fit you comfortably. Maybe you should check your pockets. You dig your hand into your left pocket. Nothing but lint. Now for the right pocket. Let's see... Ow. Something in our pocket poked your finger. Working your fingers around the sharp object, you pull it from your pocket.

A gold pocket watch, with a point at the top of it, with no apparent purpose other than looks. You run your thumb over the shiny object before using your fingernail to open it, moving the lid to reveal the time. 27: 90. Is it that late already? Wait, what in the world? What an odd watch. The numbers that go around the edge of the watch aren't your average one through twelve, nor do they seem to have any pattern of appearance. 27, 17, 90, 91, 34, 5, 27, 68, 22, 54, 77, 2 in order, clockwise from where twelve should be. The only number that seems to be in the right place is five, though that might be a coincidence and not have to do with what the numbers actually stand for. Though the numbers may be off, the normal hour and minute hands are still there, pointing at 27 and 90, respectively.

Only able to shake your head at the mess, you close the watch and put it back into your pocket, making a mental note to yourself to remember the point in the end of the pocket watch. Back to the task at hand, you check both your back pockets, but end up empty handed. So just the pocket watch then. Not much help there. Well, maybe you should grab some supplies from the building and make your way across that bridge.

Looking into the sky as you walk back toward the building, it's obvious it's getting late in the day. Should you leave in the morning? No, you don't think you could sleep. Plus, you don't feel very tired. I'd be better just to go. Maybe the building will have a flashlight or something. The tall man had said the building would have everything you would need, right?

Making your way back into the building, you head into the kitchen, as you hadn't seen anywhere else supplies could be so far. The kitchen wasn't very big, with counters on either side of the wall, with just enough room for a person to walk between them. Cabinets line the walls above the cabinets, and a single refrigerator leans up against the end of the counter. The refrigerator has a bit of rust on the outside, but from the whirring sound coming from it, it seemed to be in working order. Alright, supplies. You walk up and open the refrigerator. Inside, from top to bottom are, from what it looks like, airtight bag, filled with random foods, most of which seem to be processed meats, along with some vegetables. From the looks of it, if you checked the freezer, you'd find the same thing, but you couldn't be sure unless you checked. Closing the refrigerator door, you reach up and open the freezer door.

Oh... fun... a frozen body folded up to fit inside the small freezer. But it seemed as though it had been in there for a very long time, as most of the facial features had long since disappeared. As you mind goes over the scene, you notice this is the second dead person you've seen, though they don't seem to faze you. And it feels as though this won't be the last corpse you encounter. As you come back to reality, you notice something glinting from the light on the corpse. Reaching to it, you crack the frozen object from the body. A single dog tag. Military, eh? Interesting. You'd like to find out the name on it, but damn is it ever cold. You close the freezer and move over to the sink. It doesn't have any luster, but seems to be in one piece. Upon turning the hot water knob, water pours from the faucet, cold at the moment. Making sure the hole at the bottom of the sink wouldn't let the frozen dog tag go down it you drop the dog tag under the stream of water, hoping to melt the ice as you check the rest of the kitchen.

You turn to face the other side of the kitchen, and your head spins fast, dropping you to the ground. You might have been this way for some time, but now you notice you are profoundly weak. No, you weren't like this... you were in perfect health on the beach. It must be something else. Your head is throbbing. A sudden migraine... Maybe there is some medicine in the cabinets... Wincing, you pick your self up, leaning on the counter, then reach up and open a cabinet. Lucky guess, there seems to be some medicine in here. Actually, a single bottle of medicine sitting on a note. Ha, of course. You laugh at yourself for not expecting it sooner.

"You'll need these." the note reads. Even in pain, you want to think before acting. The note is written in black pen and the paper is a off-white, yellow almost. The top of the note is ripped, obviously ripped out from a notebook maybe, or a list. Fearful of forgetting something along the way you might need, you fold up the note and put it in your left back pocket. Now then, maybe you should attend to this throbbing pain in your head. You reach up and grab the bottle, twisting the cap. Is it stuck? It doesn't seem to want to move at all. Inspecting the bottle closer, you see the cap child proof. What is the point of this? Whoever wrote the note is either cruel, or didn't have any other bottle. Straining, you manage to get the bottle open. There is cotton in the bottle. But... what does that mean? This is a new bottle? Didn't the tall man need this too? Or the man inside the freezer? If they did need this, did they have their own bottles of medicine, with their own notes? But this note had no name, how would they not know they don't need them all? So that's it. More than likely the tall man was informed in someway, more than you are now, at least. If only he hadn't killed himself.

But... You drop the bottle, wincing in pain. The impact of the floor knocks the cotton loose, spilling some of the pills out over the floor. This pain is intense. Unable to do anything else, you drop to your hands and knees, grabbing a pill and immediately popping it into your mouth, swallowing it down. The pain forces you down to your side, gripping your head in your hands. Were you always like this? Did you always need these pills? Of course you don't remember, but damn, if only you could. If only you could.

You wake slowly, the sound of water runs through your ears. Oh no, not the beach again... In an effort to lift yourself up, you place you hand on the wooden floor. Ah, so it's not the beach after all. Lifting your head slowly, the pain, though not as sharp, still emanates through your skull. It turns out the water is from the sink. It overflowed, and now the water runs out of the sink, down the bottom cabinets, across the floor, and down in a hole in the floor under the other side's cabinets. Why is the water running? Oh, right, the frozen dog tag. There it is now, floating down the stream along the floor. Wait, that's NOT good.

Clambering to get yourself up, you splash your hands into the water, trying to catch the dog tag as it floats along. But to no avail. Before you can get your hands around it, the dog tag slips down the hole in the floor. Just your luck. Unable to think of anything else to do, you just sit there, watching the water run over yours hands. Maybe you should turn the water off. And your pain seems to be dissipating. Lifting yourself up slowly, you make your way over to the sink and turn the hot water knob, turning off the stream of water. Well, so much for that. Nothing seems to go your way, not that you know it ever went your way before this. First that tall man kills himself, the migraine... The pills!

You turn quickly, seeing the bottle and pills on the floor, some of which are wet from the stream of water. Absolutely perfect. Before you can start feeling sorry for yourself, you kneels down and rescue what you can, putting them back in the bottle, and putting the cap back on. You didn't lose too many, only about five pills, but of course, it could very well end up you only need one more pill when you run out.

Enough was enough. This knowledge less, mindless game was over. You wanted answers, and no tall or frozen corpses are going to make you do otherwise. Across that rope bridge could be the answers you seek, or just more questions. But something about this building just makes you hate this place, and anywhere would be better now. Carrying food just seems like a hassle, so you decide the next best thing would just be to eat now, get some rest, and when you wake, you'll make your way across that bridge.

Dreams have always interested you. At least, that's what your mind tells you. You never thought of dreams as random things you can't control. They were more of complex thoughts your mind went over while you slept. And what great information they held. There might have been something you missed, but your mind didn't, and it can remind you of this thing you missed through dreams. This is what you had always though. However, strange and confusing times can only lead to more confusion and strangeness.

The world, beautiful and serene. All these people look so happy. And no matter where you look, there is no war, strife, or poverty. But that would mean no greed. Is that even possible? You get this feeling something is missing from the world, making it this way. But you can't put your finger on it. As you scan the world over and over again, something stands out that is missing. Yes, for certain, this is what is missing from the world. You are.

You wake slowly from your sleep, lifting your head from the tear soaked pillow. Tears? Were you crying during your sleep? Did it really sadden you so to see the world prosperous without you? Does that make you a bad person? To want to live in a troubled world, rather than just watch a prosperous one? You had never been the emotional sort, you mind tells you, and this is quite a surprise. However, under the circumstances, this is far from odd. Ha, maybe you were crying from the horrible quality of this bed...

Sitting up with a groan, you sit up to inspect your surrounding, half expecting them to be different. However, you are still in the old building, lying on the poor condition mattress on the floor of the single bedroom. Maybe being somewhere else would have been better. You pick yourself up, straightening out your clothes and checking your pockets for everything you have. Crazy pocket watch, mysterious note, and the migraine pills. That's everything. Time to go. Making your way through the house, the smell of the tall man's corpse is strong throughout the house. Maybe you should have buried him or something. Then again, you weren't expecting to stay around long. Best to just ignore the mess and move along. You step out of the house and walks down the path on your right, winding down the rocky hill a bit, moving toward the rope bridge connecting this island to the mainland, or at least the land on the other side.

Wow. This doesn't look safe. The bridge looks three times longer than any rope bridge should be, along with the fact that it doesn't look sturdy, safe, or reliable in anyway. But you don't have a choice. You need to cross this. Is there a plan? Or are you just gunning it across the bridge, hoping your speed can outrun the bridge's failure? Maybe you should think. But what is there to think about? The bridge obviously won't hold under your weight for long, and there is no avoiding that. Maybe the only thing to do is run it. You walk backwards a bit, giving yourself some room to start a run. Here we go. You bounce a bit on your feet before taking off, kicking up dust as you dash forward, taking your first step on the bridge as lightly as you can in a heavy run.

You hate things you can't solve with thinking. Thinking should be able to solve everything. A good plan can conquer any task. Well, that's what you want, but in reality, sometimes the only thing that works is action, or strength. And in those cases, you have to take a risk. And those are unavoidable sometimes. Maybe, if you get through this, you can go to the gym, or try working on being impulsive. If you make it through this, that is.

A stumble is all you need to drop back into reality once again, still in a heavy run across the rope bridge, a little more than halfway across. At this point, it feels like a uphill run, as the bridge is longer than required to make the gap, leaving a bit of slack to sag down between the island and the mainland. You've got to make this. Almost there. As you give a smile, confident you'll make it now, you're foot breaks through a board, tripping you. You already know what will happen. You're body will slam into the boards in front of you, breaking them and sending you down into the sea below. Well, that is what will happen if you don't do something. But damn if you aren't going to try.

As your body comes down toward the boards, you stretch out your arms, catching the upper rail ropes in your hands, stopping your body from hitting the bridge. The ropes whine from the weight, and the bridge twists and turns a little bit, as your body isn't exactly balanced on the bridge now. As you move to stand up, your slightly shift in body weight sends the bridge rolling over itself, twisting up the ropes and hanging the bridge upside down over the ocean, dropping boards and pieces of wood from the bridge. Oh god. Your hands grip the rope tightly, your legs now dangling down, your back toward your destination. How the hell can you get out of something like this?

Taking a gulp, you turn your head a bit, looking out of the corner of your eye. You are so close to the mainland. If you reach back, you could probably grab the edge of the cliff. But trying that might end up in you falling instead. And you'll have to hold on to the cliff with one hand until you can turn around and grab with your other hand. What else can you do? Here you go. You let go with one hand from the ropes and reach back, twisting yourself to get a flat grab on the edge of the cliff. Your hand feels the edge of the cliff and you grab on as tightly as you can. One... two... three. You twist your body hard and reach from the cliff, catching it in the palm of your hand, your body swinging into the side of the cliff.

If you could pick any cliff to hang from ever, this would be it. The entire thing was rocky and anything but flat, giving lots of footholds and handholds. Luckily for you, you didn't need any handholds, as your hands were already at the top of the cliff. Using your feet against the rocky cliff wall you pull yourself up, throwing your body up onto the ground. That was your first and your last rope bridge, you promise yourself.

As you rest on the ground, you look up to view your surroundings. You were in the bottom of a valley, at the end of it actually, with the rope bridge just behind you. The cliffs surrounding the valley were different from the one you just climbed up from. These were smooth. Unnaturally smooth. There was no way you could climb these. Looking off into the distance you can see the path curves, cutting of your view farther down the path. Well, at least it doesn't look like there is any danger along this path. The sides of the valley were always very tall, so the tops of them, or anything that could be up there, were also out of sight. One path. No decisions here. Boring, but easy. Plus, you've had enough excitement for one day. Not like you had a choice on that.

After you catch your breath, you pick yourself up and dust yourself off. Putting your hand against the cold stone wall, you start to walk along the path. You look up into the sky. Must be around 10 in the morning. The sun isn't overhead yet. And with these high valley walls, you'll be in the shade for most of the day though hopefully you won't be walking through this valley for too long.

Maybe you should learn to stop hoping. This valley seems to go on forever. You can still see that curve ahead in the path, but it doesn't seem like you're ever going to reach it. Possibly a mind trick? Yes, that must be it. If you look behind you, there is also nothing but path with a slight curve in the other direction. The valley could be turning ever so slightly as so you don't notice. You feel like you're going straight, but in fact you're taking the smallest turn. That must be it. The utter repetitiveness and unstimulating aspect of this valley forces a deep sigh from you. That's it. Your mind is stronger than anything you could be put against. There must be some sort of trick to this. You start to slip your hand from the wall.

Almost as soon as you move your hand, you feel a break in the smooth wall. Not a big one, mind you, perhaps only a centimeter wide, but a break nonetheless. You freeze where you stand, running your fingertips back and forth over the little break in the wall. Moving your fingertips up it now, it seems to go as high as you can reach. You turn and kneel down, running your fingertips down it now, and it seems to go down to the ground. The break could go across the ground too, but the dirtiness of the ground prevented you from feeling where the wall and the ground met properly. No matter, there is something about this. For one, the color of the wall, along with the darkness down in at the bottom of the valley made this break in the wall virtually invisible, obviously planned to be so.

So you found an obviously manmade break in the valley wall. But what did this mean? Analyze. A break in the wall means... Well, it means these two parts of the wall aren't connected. Also, since this break isn't sealed close, it obviously had some purpose, otherwise it would have been taken care of. But what kind of purpose could a break in the wall have? Ah, it moves. That must be it. There is a break in the wall because the walls aren't connected. Some part of the wall around here moves. But for what reason... Of course. You were walking in circles, like you had previously thought. This wall must slide out, covering where the rope bridge connects to the island. This area is obviously big enough for the path to turn in such a small degree, you don't notice the turn at all, and with this sliding wall, you'd walk forever and never notice anything.

But this only gave you more questions. This was a trap then? To try to kill you? Or possibly test you? And beyond that, someone must have set this up. But why? Ask yourself these questions would never get them answered. But where to now? The path loops, and you don't even know how many laps you made before noticing this. Now this was frustrating. Someone was toying with you. With your mind. And no one has the right to mess with your mind. This was becoming personal, and you weren't going to stop that. When you find the unfortunate fool who devised this, he was going to get a piece of your mind. Then again, maybe he's already getting it. From what you've seen before, it seems as though people have gone through this before. And how many have gotten to this point, or found this break in the wall? If someone had been in here and died of starvation, there was obviously a clean up crew. What kind of sick game was this, and why were you here, memory less. Then it hits you.

For all you know, you could have very well signed up for this. This could all be a competition you signed up for to test your mind you are oh so proud of. No, you couldn't be that foolish, could you? Well, maybe if you did sign up for this, you had an ulterior motive. But, this was pointless. It doesn't matter if you had an ulterior motive or not, you had no memories, making you nothing more than a new person. That's right. Besides sharing your name, looks, and personality, you are not the Devvon Right that existed before. Without memories, you have no proof that you existed before this. Devvon Right could even be a fake name. No, that can't be. Stop it. Once again, this is utterly pointless.

In your thought: silence. Even when you were thinking, you were listening. And there was that unmistakable crunch of dirt under shoes sound, walking toward you. Do you look? Of course you do, why wouldn't you? Fear, perhaps. Every person you have seen so far has died or been dead. Before you can come to a conclusion, the footsteps decide for you.

"Hey. I need you, alright?" The voice was soft, but stern. A little girl? She sounded quite determined. Was she part of this sick test as well?

"Hey, did you hear me? I said I need you." Need you? What could she possibly need you for? Well, that was a stupid question, it could be anything. Oh, right, she probably wants a response. You gulp out of a soft fear, and turn around to face the voice.

You were right, it is a small girl. Hm, she was wearing the same type of clothes as you. That could only mean this was some sort of set up event. That, or you were unknowingly fashionable. Her blonde hair was up in pigtails, tied up with blue ribbons. That struck you as slightly odd, but maybe she found them herself after she started. Ah, you'll never figure out by staring.

"What... What do you need me for?" Your voice cracks a bit, probably from lack of use. She, surprisingly, didn't seem fazed by what you said or how you said it, and proceeds to take your hand in hers and drag you along with her along the opposite way you were going on the path. What was this? What could she need you for? Well, continuing on in this place seemed like an obvious answer. Maybe she needed a boost to climb something, or just someone to take a bullet. But where could she need you at? You had already figured out this path was just a circle, leading around and around.

"It was a trapdoor, buried under the dirt." the little girl says without looking back, as if reading your mind. True, you were both in the same predicament, so it wouldn't be uncommon to think the same way, but it still felt odd for her to know what you were thinking. Your mind was personal and even sharing your thoughts felt like an invasion of privacy. But wait, she said she found a trap door under the dirt? How lucky did she get? You walked the entire path and didn't find it, how did she? What's more, she was in the trail at the same time as you. Why didn't you notice her foot prints in the dirt? Where did she come from, for that matter? Did she go across the rope bridge after you? Well, she could have gone across it before you. Why don't you just ask her? Ah, now that's an easy one to answer. Because if she finds out you're suspicious of her, she might not take you to this trapdoor she supposedly found. Best to just be quiet until you get farther into this.

Snapping from this train of thought, you can see the trapdoor up ahead. It was like a rusted metal color and was open, a good sized pile of dirt surrounding the trapdoor, obviously where the girl supposedly dug. The girl slips her hand from yours and runs to the trapdoor, immediately turning and climbing down. So there seemed to be a ladder. As the girl disappears from view, you reach the trapdoor. There was light down there. The girl was already gone from the ladder and apparently going into this room below. What else is there to do but climb down after her? Turning yourself and stepping down onto the first rung of the ladder just under the trapdoor, your hands grab the sides of the ladder and slide down as you step down each rung until your feet meet the ground, and you let go of the ladder and turn to inspect this new area.

The walls and ceiling color were a dull green in seemingly good condition. Around the wall is a normal white square tile that lined the walls all the way around, up the wall about shoulder height, the same tile used to cover the floor. The room itself wasn't very big, maybe only ten square feet, but the ceiling felt high, maybe just because of the contrasting colors of the white tile and the dull green walls. The girl was busy inspecting a wall, feeling around on it with her hands. You open your mouth to speak to her, but she seems to be one step ahead of you.

"There are doors on either side of this room that open in a pivot. But they won't open unless they are both pushed on at the same time. And they'll close when you stop pushing, so we can't go the same way." She was quite informed. How could she possibly know this? Once again, she seemed to read your mind.

"I was with two other people. They... ditched me." Oh. You weren't expecting that. That pretty much explains most of her knowledge. That makes you feel bad for being suspicious. However, this was still some sort of sick game, so you have reason for suspicion. If she was in the same situation as you, no memories and all, maybe she'd understand that. Then again, you did seem to have quite a mind, but that was only from introspecting. You had no memories of being smarter or not of other people so at this point, it was only assumption.

"So come on. Push on that wall. We both want to get through this, don't we?" Of course you did. Well, you think you do, at least. Damn, it was annoying not knowing what you'd normally want. While you thought, mindlessly you walked to the other side of the room and pushed on the wall as she pushed on the other side. Slowly a part of the wall started sliding open, but you could feel the resistance. Once you stopped pushing it slam closed. And it didn't feel like you could push it from the other side, if it's already resisting like this. You'd be stuck on the other side one through. But that would mean you wouldn't see the girl anymore. Wait! There was so much to ask her still. But she was already walking through the opening on her side, your door now even harder to open. You had no choice, you had to go through. Dammit. She could have known everything about this, but you didn't think to ask her in time.

But you're not one to beat yourself up. Even you knew that it was a waste of time. You didn't need memories to tell you that. You hurry yourself, slipping past the door before it swings shut with a loud slam. So that was that. Again, you were alone, without any new information. Fantastic. And no way to get back either. Well, not this way, at least. Let's see... Everything looked the same, except you were in a hallway instead of a room. At the end of the hallway it turned right. Unable to make much of a decision, you give an exaggerated sigh, as if someone could hear you, and march down the hallway.

This place made you feel sick. The repetitive look of the tile along the wall and the floor made your head throb. Ugh, this shade of green was getting to you. Putting your hand against the wall, you lean against it as you walk, slightly slumped over. Oh, it was too much. It felt as if something was inside your head, trying to burst out. And it felt like it might just do that soon. Oh, right, in the pain you had forgotten the pills. Dropping to your knees, you jam your hand into your left pocket, pulling out the bottle. Right, child safety top. You strain to open the bottle, the pain weakening you, but you manage to open it, dumping a pill into your hand and popping it into your mouth, swallowing it down. Last time you had passed out, so you don't know how long these pills will take to work, but you took them a lot sooner this time, so maybe you'll be alright. Staying on your knees, resting against the wall.

Your head was still hurting, so maybe you should just stay here for a while. Yes, that sounded like a plan. You should take the time to recap what you know. Ha, that won't take long. You're somewhere you don't know, with people you don't know, with some sickness you don't know and you're in some sort of test or something you don't know. And, what's more, all your sources of information have killed themselves, been frozen, washed away, or sealed off. Well, there is the pocket watch, but you'd be surprised if it meant anything. Out of curiousity, you pull out the watch again, careful to avoid the point at the top that you poked yourself on last time. Holding the pocket watch in your hand, you flip the cover open to look at the numbers.

The minute hand and hour hand have moved. It was now 27:27, according to the watch. Now this was odd. If it did go by normal time, even with odd random numbers, it would have moved much more than that in this span of time. But obviously, it followed some other pattern of movement. You turn, resting your back against the wall now, your head still throbbing, but not as bad for sure. A little more rest. Glancing back to the watch you blink. The hands moved. 54:54 now. The hands seemed to move together. But why like that? The hands were not together when you first looked at them. Hm, maybe... You turn the watch to the right, putting the numbers on their sides facing you. So that's how it was. The hands now pointed to 27 again. They would point no matter how to you turn the watch back toward the door you came through, or maybe just something in that direction, like a compass. Unlike a compass, however, it didn't always point north. It was possible the way it was pointing was north now, but earlier, in front of the rope bridge, the hands pointed in different directions than now, and separately. So there must be different points of attraction around the island that react with this pocket watch like a compass. But what did any of that have to do with anything?

Ah, your head felt much better. Those pills really did the trick. Hopefully there wasn't any side effect. AH. That could be it! A side effect of the pills! Memory loss! That didn't mean it was true, but that could be the case. Maybe you were in a hospital, took the pills and lost your memory, so wandered out here. But there didn't seem to be anything of the sort nearby. Ah, this was all speculation; nothing seems to point that way in this case. The bottle is just a white label less bottle, so you have no reason to believe they cause memory loss. If they did, you would have forgotten about the beach, wouldn't you have? Yes, that most likely would have been the case. Well then, that pretty much rules out that.

Well, now that your headache is gone, you suppose it's time to keep moving. You stand up, closing the pocket watch and putting it back into your pocket, starting to move down the hallway again. The turn was just ahead. You wonder just how long this place would be. Rounding the corner, you stop before a big wooden door only a little ways after the right turn. It seemed like a pointless door. Such a short ways from your last entrance and already another door, but it could very easily have good reason for being here, so maybe it was best not to question it. Besides, if you questioned everything you saw here, you wouldn't ever get anywhere.

You reach up and put your hand on the cold doorknob, gripping it and twisting it a bit, to test if it was locked. No, it wasn't. Well then, with that, you turn the knob and swing the door open. What? It looked empty, just a small little room with nothing in it at all, but knowing this place, there must be more to it. You walk into the middle of the room, which doesn't take long as the room is very small, maybe only five by five square feet. Nothing on the roof. Nothing on any of the walls. Any of the walls? Even... The door you had entered is gone. You left it open only a few steps behind you, but it was gone. You place your hands against the cold wall quickly and rub them around, looking for anything, a switch, a break in the wall, anything, but to no avail. The door was gone. You were trapped in this tiny little room.

You feel a throb in your head. Ouch, it's back already? Maybe you took a wet pill and it didn't do enough. Or maybe you didn't take the pills when you were supposed to. Or this could just be a normal headache. Maybe you were just... Your head throbs again, sharper. No, this was definitely one of those damned migraines again. At least you caught it early. You slide your hand into your pocket, and freeze. Where are the pills? Did you put them back in your pocket? You couldn't have been so stupid as to forget the pills, could you have? The throbbing was picking up in pace and force, slamming against the sides of your head like an unfortunate drum. It was just too much to take, all in a row like this. You lean against the wall, cringing from the pain. What could you do?

"We're injecting you with the medicine. Please acknowledge this so the medicine can take effect." A voice! Inside the room? No, the voice was inside your head, speaking directly with you somehow. Was the migraine making you crazy? No, this voice was real. Someone else was truly speaking to you. The voice sounded too... knowledgeable, too direct and-The pain. Oh, the pain. What could possibly do this to your head? Your brain? Your precious mind?

"Dammit, Dev! It's too much, and too dangerous to explain! Use your god damned mind of yours to figure this out! What you see isn't real! But I am, and I'm injecting you with your medicine. You can't see it or feel it, but your mind has to acknowledge its existence for your body to accept it!" What was this?! This isn't real, but the voice is? And calling you "Dev"? Does he know you? What does that all mean?! Maybe he was trying to help, but how could you acknowledge something was happening when it's not? You couldn't do such a thing!

"It IS happening! I... I just can't explain it to you, but you're not where you think you are, and if you don't accept that fact, and the fact that I injected that medicine into you, your mind is going to reject-Er. Devvon, you'll die." Your mind is going to reject something? Reject what?! No. No, concentrate. He's right, after all. There was no point not to trust him, to listen and understand what he was saying.

The room began to spin, and the wall you were leaning on felt like it had just slipped from underneath you as you slide to the floor. Pain.

This isn't real. You are actually somewhere else, and this voice has given you your medicine to stop the pain but for some reason, your mind needs to know of it to let the body accept it. That makes no sense, people get injections all the time in their sleep, why should this be any different? Well, people don't run around in fake worlds while being injected with medicine, that's for sure. You suppose it is possible that with all the stimuli of this world going into your brain, your body just doesn't know of the medicine at all. That could be, you guess. Makes more sense than anything else here. You... you give up. That medicine better work soon, because you quit. The pain is just overwhelming, and fighting it only makes it worse. You relax your eyelids, and breath deeply.

Wait, you didn't realize until just now, but that voice reacted to something you thought, not said. Maybe it was just assumption. No, the way he said it was obviously a reaction to what you had thought. Ha, damn you and your mind. Even in pain, your mind doesn't want to stop thinking, examining. But it was right. He did read your mind somehow. He. You had been referring to the voice as a he. It sounded like one, coarse to an extent, but the feeling that it was caring was obvious through the voice. It just sounded like it wanted to help more than it had to.

The pain, though dulled a bit, was still extremely sharp, but your mind wanted answers more than rest. You felt too weak to talk, but it just felt right to use your mouth to speak, rather than just your mind to a person. "Who... who are you?" you mutter out quietly.

"I can't answer that." Can't answer that. This might get annoying.

"Where are you, then?" you ask, with a hint of aggravation.

"A better question would be where are you." This was true. You cared about yourself more than this bodiless man.

"Where am I?" You had a feeling...

"I can't answer that." Of course he can't. A joker, eh? Fantastic.

"Well, I give up. Tell me everything you can then." He could either give you at least some information, or refuse again. Either way, you figured you wouldn't like it.

"Hm... Well... I can tell you you're a lucky man. After reviewing the log and what just happened, the senior analysis has decided we have to inform you to some degree. So you might want to prepare yourself." Prepare yourself? Please. Can't be much more prepared than in a fetal position on the floor.

"Tell me." You say, confident nothing at this point could surprise you enough.

"Well, you're in what we call the "Trial Reality". We block your memories from your mind and put you into the Trial Reality to basically examine who you really are. You see, memories can change a person, and with Trail Reality, we can see what kind of person you are without the influence of your memories, whether they be good or bad. Your headaches are a result of blocking out your memories. Your mind, at this stage in life, is almost... confused without the presence of your memories, and tries to shut itself down without them. But since you're still using it in Trial Reality, your brain tries forcing itself to shut down, resulting in your pain. We can give you medicine, but you need to actually know you're receiving it otherwise your mind in the Trial Reality will have no idea the medicine is in your system, what with all the current stimuli. Your body won't accept the medicines presence unless your mind and body does in the Trial Memory. That's why we had the pills put in there, so you'd take one when we gave you the medicine. Did ya catch all that?"

Of course you caught it all. You heard every bloody word. It all made sense. Perfect sense. But you didn't want to believe it. You couldn't believe it. Maybe it had been poking in the back of your mind that this could all be some sort of virtual reality of some kind, but you didn't think much of that. Why in God's name would anyone hook you up to a machine and put you in a virtual world. That's sick and cruel. But... you did consider something a while ago. That it was possible you had consent in doing this, whatever it was. No, you could NEVER be so stupid. Your mind was sharp, always examining things. You would have known this wouldn't be a good idea.

Out. You want out. You want your memories. Now. "Let me out. I'm done. This is done. I want out now. Do you hear me? Now! I don't know how I got in here, why I got in here, or anything of the sort, but I want out! Let me out! Now!! Give me back my memories! Let me know who I am! Let me see my world! Let me LIVE!"

"Devvon... I can't." He can't?! This bastard can't let me out?! Why not?!

"Why?!" you cry into the empty room.

"Because... for one, unblocking your memories at this point would overload your brain and kill you. And two, there is unknown data in the Trail Reality that caused most systems to crash, and unless the data is identified, the system can't safely release you."

************************CROSS-EXAMINATION************************

The room felt even more like a trap than before. At first you were just stuck in this small green room, but now you were stuck in it with this voice tormenting you. The voice wasn't trying to torture you, really, but it did a damn good job of it. You trace your fingertip around a single tile on the lower end of the wall, across the top, down the side, across the bottom, up the side. You just kept circling your finger around this tile as you listened to the voice. Normally, you would talk back a lot more, your mind full of opinions and ideas. However, you had nothing to say on this topic. Even with all this new information the voice was giving you, you still felt so uninformed. It was refusing to answer the questions you really wanted answered.

"Can I ask why you can't tell me about me?" you ask, your eyes still fixed on your finger moving around the single tile. The voice sighs.

"To be honest, I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to take it. But listen to me and think, I know you like doing that. You may think that nothing I could tell you could shock you more than you are now, but you have no idea what is out here, so for all you know, this could very well be much more than you can take." He was right, of course. There could still be many things you couldn't even fathom outside this Trial Reality. But damn, you still wanted to know it all, or at least remember it all.

"Devvon, if we can safely remove you from the Trial Reality, your memories will return to you. Everything. You'll remember why you are in here now, everything you want to know. That's the only way this can work. So you have to trust me." Why did he always have to be right? Well, because he wasn't trapped inside this virtual reality.

"Fine. Fine. How do we do this? You said unless the data is identified, I'm stuck in here, so how do you identify it? Obviously there is something stopping you from doing it, otherwise I'd be out of here, right?" Being information less was a real pain in the ass. If you had all the information, you'd be able to figure it all out like that, you know it. But without knowledge you felt helpless, and though you'd never admit it, scared too.

"Right, the unknown data forced a shutdown of most systems, so even if the systems were up, we can't do anything with the unknown data. So what you need to do is interact with the data so it becomes familiar to the system." The voice says, explaining. Interact? What does he mean by that?

"What do you mean interact? I can see this unknown data?" This was confusing, but it should be, you're not exactly informed on how this virtual world simulator works.

"You see..." the voice answers, "In the Trial Reality, most of the data is code, designating certain things to be certain ways and do certain things. The rest of the data is the objects and world you see before you; people and trees buildings, all of that. The unknown data was found is odd. From what we could see before it forced a crash, there is more than one... say "area" of data, meaning there are multiple unknown things out in the Trail Memory. Problem is, we don't know what they are. There is also unknown code data, so these unknown areas of data are actually coded to do something. Normally, the unknown coding would be a glitch, a jumbled nonsense that would render the area it codes useless. However, that doesn't seem to be the case. The unknown areas of data seem to work fine and are currently running in the Trial Memory right now. You interacting with the data would force the computer to process the data, though it is new to the system, and processing the data should make it more familiar to the system, and in turn not cause the system to crash. Well, that's our theory, anyway." He concludes. Theory? They are basing all of this on a theory?

"Theory? Well, what if your theory is wrong?" Why did you even ask that? You can be sure you won't like the answer. The voice sighs before answering.

"If the theory is wrong, when you interact with the unknown data, the entire system will crash and you'll instantaneously die. That is, if the system doesn't crash before then. I can't imagine it's very stable at this point." Though he has sighed before he had said it, everything about that statement made it sound like it didn't matter either way. Is it possible you're in here for a reason that puts you in a position where it doesn't matter if you live or die? No, he must just not care about you. But someone out there must. Everyone has loved ones. You speak to the wall once again, picking yourself up from the ground and stretching a bit, expecting to go soon.

"Well, that's comforting. One more thing, how do I find the data? I don't suppose you can program me in a map." You say sarcastically. You wanted the voice to know you weren't very pleased with this.

"I... don't know. The only thing we know is... You had some unknown data on you before the system crashed, and you interacted with it enough to make it alright. Other than that, you're on your own. I can't even contact you once you leave this room, so... Good luck, Dev. Honestly, I want you to make it out of there." Did he now? Your eyes scan the green wall before you, and out of the corner of your eye you can see a hint of brown. Turning to it, it seems the door as reappeared on the wall, giving you an exit. Without saying another word, you walk out of the room, closing the door behind you.

What is this? You are facing the ladder you climbed down to get into this area. But this wasn't where the door has been earlier. Turning again, you see of course, the door you came through is no longer there. Well, this isn't bad, actually. If you had gone back the way you had came in, you'd be stuck in that hallway with the self shutting door.

Well, what now? Ah, right, the voice had said you had something on your person that had been unknown data. Well, the pills and the note that was with them were obviously put in there by the people who programmed this place, so the unknown data would have to be the pocket watch. You suppose it was rather odd. And though it has already been familiarized with the system, it's the only thing you have that could possibly lead you to the rest of the unknown data. Perhaps they are all similar.

Carefully, you put your hand in your right pocket and pull out the pocket watch. Flipping the cover open, both hands of the watch both point to your front right, at 90. As you keep your eyes on the watch, you walk to the middle of the room, and as you thought they would, the hands slowly crept to 91, pointing directly right now. The pocket watch was like a compass, and right now it was pointing to the self closing door the little girl had gone through when she had first showed you this area. And though it was just a guess, it seemed as though maybe the pocket watch as pointing to the unknown data, though that'd be a very lucky break. However, you had nothing else to do on, so follow the watch you shall.

Getting through that door may be a problem, though. The self closing doors on both sides of the room required pressure against both of them to move open, and would close if pressure was lost on either side. In addition, the walls of the room were just far away enough to make it impossible for both people pushing the doors to go in the same path. If one tried to run to the other side, the door would close before they reached it, closing off both paths to them. So without another person, it seemed impossible to get through that door.

"Don't bother. I'm right here. You are looking for me, aren't you?" Ah, the little girl! That was her voice! You blink out of thought and there she was, standing before the wall she has previously disappeared through. How did she get back? Well, that was a foolish question. In this place anything could happen. It was unbelievable. Ridiculous even. Yes, this couldn't be what the voice was describing earlier. This must all be a dream, a delusion. Nothing like this could exist. You face the girl directly and speak.

"You're not real. None of this is. It's not even some sort of virtual reality, is it? Am I in a coma or something? One of those dreams I have for years before I wake up?" The girl laughs.

"Don't be silly. Reality is a much overused term. We are experiencing this, so it is real, nothing more than that. This is happening to us, whether or not it is happening to anyone else. We made us well, didn't we?" The girl made some sense, except for the last part. We made us well, didn't we? What could she mean by that? We would mean more people of similar nature. But she couldn't be like you. We would mean the girl could be part of the programming, like a test, but the system is down, so that might rule that out. She could be, however...

"Unknown data. You're the thing that caused the system to crash." you say. Ah, so many questions to ask. But where to start? You suppose interacting with it would be speaking with it enough. It better be; you'd hate to think what they could have meant by interacting when dealing with this... girl. So what to ask? Who are you? No, it could answer anything and mean nothing. Ah. Got it. "Where did you come from?" The answer could give a lot of insight. The girl, without removing her sweet, yet creepy smile, responds.

"I won't tell us, as we already know." What is this? You know nothing of this. And this "we" stuff is confusing. Tell us? That would signify the girl and you came from the same place, or are grouped.

"I have no idea, actually. How'd you get in here?" You have a feeling this will be another annoying talk with an uninforming bastard.

"No, we do know, you just can't remember. I won't waste time telling us twice." This we stuff still. No point trying to decipher her gibberish. Ah, another question comes to mind.

"Well... You are supposedly just a glitch in the system. But why do you take the appearance of a little girl?" The girl blinks for a brief moment, as if for once she didn't expect that question. But it is brief, and the girl smiles and answers.

"I am Ashley Bryers. I am twelve years old and I lived in Chicago all of my life. Three days after my twelfth birthday, in the middle of the night, I had ropes tied around my ankles, was hung upside down from the ceiling and had my head severed off, having my blood slowly drain from my body. I was found the next morning by my mother, who went into immediate depression and killed herself with one of my father's guns. My father was shocked, but moved on and eventually had another full family. He was the only good person in our family."

By the end of the story, your knees are shaking and your eyes wide open, staring at this girl, or what looked like a girl at least. Why be frightened, though? Wait, no, you know very well why. It had crossed your mind while you were listening to the story. Obviously, she isn't really that girl, but that girl could have very well existed. This thing could just be the remnants of this girl who was killed. Perhaps she was old data from the system they had planned to use on you, but decided against it. She could be from your memories, in that case. She... could be your daughter. You could be that father. No. Don't delude yourself with dramatic thoughts. Though the fact existed that you could be her father, it was irrelevant at this point, and would only make this last longer. But the story didn't even have to be true. It could be a hidden message. Oh, stop. Come now, this is nothing more than some sort of glitch in the so-called system. The chances that this mistake means something are little next to none, correct? Still, you were a thinker, and you still wanted to know more regardless.

"Now, you said your father was the only good one in the family. How was your mother bad? Or you even?" Brace yourself. She could say anything. The girl continues, as if the story doesn't affect her at all.

"My mother was a sort of masochist. The sight of blood turns her on, so she'd often bite my father during relations, or even bite or cut herself. When she saw me the way I was, blood everywhere, she could help but get turned on, and she disgusted herself. So much so that she thereafter committed suicide. I was a bad person because I hated people who weren't like me, though not in a childish way like we'd imagine. I'd spit on poor people, and laugh when I see them hurt, or hear them get killed on the news. We were not rich, but very well off."

Analyze. Beyond the story, she had called herself "I" when referring to herself, or at least Ashley, and "we" when referring to me, or us, the thing being Ashley. It was possible the thing was putting it and you in a group because you were both in here. Now the mother sounded like a freak, doesn't mean she should die, but still. And Ashley was not a good child, no, but being murdered for it? And anyone could have killed her, it sounds like; an angry homeless person, or maybe someone from her school. A lot of people would resent her. Well, she can tell you, perhaps.

"Who killed you, Ashley?" Normally, you wouldn't have called it Ashley, as it wasn't really her, but you were asking the Ashley it was pretending to be, not what it really was. Ashley, never once changing her expression, answers.

"We did." We did? She said "we", grouping us again, so that must mean either the glitch killed her, which seemed improbable, or this place killed her. This Trial Reality. Well, maybe the machine making this work didn't kill her literally, but it could mean that this machine existing lead to her murder. Maybe she was related to someone working on the Trial Reality machines, or whatever it was. That seemed to make since. A disgruntled programmer gets mad at the girl and kills her, imputing his sick twisted job into the system. Well, maybe that was far fetched, but so was the Trail Reality.

"Ashley-" you begin, but as you stop thinking and look to where she was, she's gone, leaving no trace of her arrival or disappearance. That could mean you familiarized the system with her enough. Or it could mean many other things, but better to think positive for now. Right now, you felt that maybe these unknown parts of data that got into the system may be old data or something of the sort, but this was just assumption. Hopefully, the answer will be revealed when you escape this Trial Reality. Yes. Escape would be nice.

You were calm, cool and collect on the outside, but it felt like you were clawing at yourself from the inside. On one side, this felt completely pointless. Once you leave this place, it was all mean nothing. You'll have your memories back and you can forget about this place. On the other hand, unless you do this, you cannot get out, but you were still so unsure this really was what it presented itself to be. There were so many questions you could ask, and just as many different answers there could be. Ah, not this again. It didn't matter. Everything pointed to the same answer. Nothing else to do but go along with it. At least it was interesting.

You sigh and recollect yourself. Onward. There was nothing else to do down here, so it's back up into the sun. Ha, you caught yourself there. It wasn't really the sun. Bah, enough, it was of little importance. You climb the ladder slowly, pulling yourself up into the artificial daylight. Still daytime? Hm. Either you sleep through the night, or time doesn't seem to pass here. No, that's not true, you had had a night earlier back at the building. Perhaps you did spend the night down there. Not that you feel rested one bit. You had spent the whole night in a near fetal position, being told everything and nothing all at the same time.

You stand up and brush yourself off, looking around. Once again in the strange valley, however, off in the distance you could see the opening. So the wall had slid open once again. It seemed as though the data wanted you to find it. But that couldn't be, it was something that had to be programmed; Data cannot "want". Walking around the hole in the ground, you make your way toward the opening in the valley, trailing your fingertips against the cold wall like before. At least the path was rather linear; nowhere for you to get lost. Everything you were looking for had to be along the path somewhere.

Ah, right, the pocket watch. You had almost forgotten. The watch was still clutched in your hand, gripped tight from the... interesting story from before. Flipping the lid open, you pull the pocket watch up to look at it. The hands pointed dead ahead, at 27. It could be pointing at the bridge, or maybe the building beyond that or even perhaps down below the rope bridge. Either way, seemed you will run into it eventually along this path. You had accepted the watch acted like a compass, as it hasn't led you wrong before.

You stop, putting your hand onto a wooden beam used to suspend the rope bridge. It was still flipped over from before, the ropes twisted around each others with a few boards dangling loosely above the sea far down below. This did not bring back fond memories. But there didn't seem to be any way around it. Hm, the best way to start would be to flip the rope bridge back over. No way can you use it the way it rest now. Grabbing the first plank close to you, you pull on it, attempting to untwist the ropes. However, the old condition of the ropes decide to do otherwise and snap. No! Without the bridge, there was no chance in hell you'd make it across this chasm!

You hated to act without thinking. But again you find yourself with no choice. Without another thought, you dive for the rope, leaning your feet out over the edge of the cliff and pushing yourself off the side of the cliff as you reach out for the ropes of the bridge as it slowly fell in an arc, returning to the other side of the chasm. You'd have plenty of time to time if you didn't grab this rope and ended up falling all the way down into the sea below. Everything seemed to slow down from this point. You could almost hear the silent creak of the old ropes as they had finally released all the tense they had held for however long this bridge was erect. The bit of dust you had kicked up from pushing off the cliff wall still hung in a little cloud behind you, dissipating ever so slowly, as if waiting to see the outcome of this rash move. Your fingers slip around the swinging rope and you pull them closed, gripping the rope tightly. Success! You swing your other arm around and grab another part of the rope for support.

You had almost forgotten the bridge will be slamming into the cliff wall, but the pain of your fingers slamming into the rocks before you works as a good reminder. Following in line, you body brings itself hard into the cliff wall, knocking rocks loose and dropping them down below you. Not one to follow the example of rocks, you use the rope and rock wall to climb your way up the cliff wall. You weren't too far down, as you had gotten hold on the rope a good ways up it. Once you get close enough, you cling your fingers on the edge of the cliff, straining to get yourself the rest of the way up. Throwing your body up, slamming your chest into the ground, you breath deeply, clutching your eyes close.

That was the second time you had to pull yourself from this damned chasm, and you seemed to be losing that strength you once had at the beginning of this odd exploration. In fact, you felt surprisingly tired. That cliff really took a lot out of you. Hopefully, everything else you run into only requires thinking. You always have enough energy for that. Putting your hands flat on the ground, you push yourself up and climb to your feet, immediately walking forward, away from the cliff. A little ways up the path was the building the man had shot himself in. It felt like it had been a long time since last you were here, though it was maybe only a day at most. Putting your eyes on the path now, you walk the winding path up towards the building. As your vision rises over the crest of the hill, you have to stop and blink. It's only for a moment though, and you continue walking up to the man waiting in the doorway of the building, a large bullet hole in his head from before, though it wasn't bleeding. Ha, maybe you're a king in the real world, as everything in this world stands to greet you, even the dead.

"You wouldn't happen to be the unknown data I am searching for, would you?" You ask with a sneer, growing rather disgusted with the theme of death rather apparent. The man nods before speaking; keeping the same blank expression he had had on the first time you met him.

"We are what we seek." Yup, must be, he speaks in "we"s. You look around as you speak to the man.

"One moment, I figure I'll want to sit down for this." You sit down on the path, crossing your legs before you. You look up to the man, folding your arms against your chest. "Alright, hit me. Who exactly are you, or who are you portraying? The man gives an unexpected soft smile.

"We are catching on. My name is Jonathan Ecks. I am 34 years old and I lived in Indiana most of my life, but moved to Chicago Illinois at the age of 32. After church one Sunday morning, I was heading off to my favorite gambling spot, going through an alley I normally take when I was attacked and knocked out. I was tied by my ankles and hung upside down to the roof of one of the building, hanging down over the alley. My head was cut off right at the neck, letting all of my blood run from my body. I had long since abandoned my family in Indiana, so they never heard word of my death." The same means of death; must be the same murderer. And if this murder is anything like the last...

"Jonathan, what did you do wrong?" You ask, feeling you may already have an idea of the answer. The man's smile slowly fades as he answers.

"I was addicted to gambling, more than anyone should be. During one game, I had nothing else to bet, so I bet my girlfriend. Ridiculous as it sounds, the men I gambled with were very depraved, so of course they accepted. My girlfriend didn't, but she didn't have any say in the matter. I lost, and they dragged my money and my girlfriend away. But I didn't care about her, I cared about winning. That's all I wanted. The men most likely raped her and killed her, or even kept her alive somewhere for their needs whenever they wanted it."

Awful. What kind of man could do that? What kind of man could murder people, for that matter? No one was the innocent party in this case, but murder was still unnecessary. But it was starting to seem as though this murderer killed on the grounds that his victims deserved to die. A righteous killer; there is no such thing, but this murderer deluded himself to believe he was killing in the name of good.

So both victims were living in Chicago at the time. But were the murders at random?

"Jonathan, did you know Ashley Bryers, or one of her parents perhaps?" Maybe one killing lead to another or they all shared something they did so the killer could scope them out. Jonathan nods.

"Yes, I knew the whole Bryers family. I went to the same church as them. I didn't know them too well, but Ashley would always give me a disgusted look, or spit at me if she was sitting behind me. Such a hateful little girl. Her mom was odd too, but the father seemed nice."

Hm, both Ashley and Jonathan shared the same opinions on the matter. Perhaps this was just what the killer had programmed them to feel, so it more the killer's opinion than the victims'. But this could easily lead to more unknown data.

"Jonathan, did you know the man that is in the freezer?" Jonathan again nods. You were definitely catching on to this game.

"Yes." Good, this meant you didn't have to search much to find the next unknown data. Maybe you were rushing a bit, but what the unknown data said to you made no difference, so long as you just familiarize the system with them. Oh, right, just because you asked this much doesn't mean Jonathan is gone now. But lucky for you he is, in fact, gone. That felt too easy, but you weren't complaining; another step closer to getting your memories back. Now, just be to certain...

You check your pocket watch once again. Yes, the hands pointed into the house at an angle, at 17. The kitchen, or more precisely, the refrigerator. Taking a breath, a bit tired from the quick tempo of all this, you step into the house. The wooden floor boards creak under each of your steps as you make your way to the kitchen. This place, however old and decaying it was, still brought an odd smile to your lips. Though you weren't necessarily happy to be back here, this was one of the only places you had memories in. The uncomfortable bed, the pills, the freezer man. Though not a one was a good memory, they were memories nonetheless, and you treasured them.

Putting your hand on the doorway of the kitchen, you walk into it, the freezer still hanging open from when you first opened it. Surprisingly, the frozen corpse inside the freezer doesn't have it's eyes open, fixed on you. Perhaps this wasn't the unknown data, but you figure it'd be better to check, just in case.

"Hello? Who are you, or who are you portraying?" You seemed to be rather used to this by now, but you couldn't decide if that was a good thing. For a moment, nothing, but slowly the ice around the mouth cracks and slowly the body's lips move.

"We already have the means to found out who I am, so we won't waste our time." Already have the means? How can you learn who this person is without him telling you? Does he have a wallet, or... Ah, right, the dog tag. That felt so long ago, but you remember accidentally letting the dog tag wash away under the floor. And these unknown data were stubborn, so the only way to find this out would be to get the dog tag. But you don't remember seeing any way to get to a basement. Well, you hadn't really been to the back of the building. Maybe there was a door back there.

As you turn to leave, you see the spot in the kitchen where you had had your first migraine. As a matter of fact, you're head didn't feel too well right now. The pills... No, you remember, the voice had said they will inject you with the medicine, and now that you know, the pills are of no importance, so long as you know there is medicine in your system. Yes. The voice is watching you right now. He knows when to give you the medicine. He'll be doing it right now. And for a moment, the pain stays even. Nowhere near the pain you had once felt before, but still a steady beat of a heavy drum in your mind.

You didn't want to analyze too far into this, but it was hard to resist thinking. Who were you, and were you related to these murders you keep hearing about? You could be any number of things, or even have nothing to do at all with them. Perhaps... you were a victim of this killer... Perhaps they are keeping you alive in this crazy world, this Trial Reality. But even that name gave you some clues. Trial. This place was not to be used forever. However you got in here, it was planned for you to get out at some point. It must be a sort of test, that could be the only thing. Maybe this was the future's way of calculating IQ, or perhaps finding what the person is best at. Without memories, the possibilities were endless. This could be anything, and you could be anyone. You might not even look this way in real life. Damn, how you wanted to know. When you get out, you are celebrating life. No matter the outcome, you are going to party for the fact that you are alive, with a life behind and ahead of you.

Oh, the migraine had subsided. You always lose track of your senses when you start to think deeply. But it was time to move on. You had to find that dog tag. You leave the kitchen, and instinctively step over the area where the man who had shot himself once lie. Moving back and forth into the house before, you had gotten used to stepping over him. Walking around the side of the house, you look over the land. You hadn't seen this part before, but it matter not. You finally knew for certain you were closed off in this area. The beach slowly leads around into a mountain and on the other side of that was nothing but sea.

As you reach the back of the building, you look to see large basement doors sticking out from under the ground against the building. There wasn't a lock on them, it seemed, so this may be easier than you thought. Wrapping a hand around each door handle, you pull the wooden doors open. It was rather dark down in there, but light shone down from the open basement door and through the holes in the wooden floorboards above. As you had to do was find the hole the dog tag slipped through and search around on the ground below it. You squint your eyes, as if to help you see better in the darkness and walk yourself down the steps into the basement.

It was far too dark to see much of anything except the exit and the bits of ground the light from the building revealed. And something stunk horribly, but you couldn't really recall the smell. No point fumbling around in here blindly, you may hurt yourself on something. Better let your eyes adjust for a moment. But you could at least find the hole in the floor above that the dog tag slipped through. Looking up, you see beams of light shining through the floor. You somewhat remembered the shape of the hole, but wasn't so sure you could pick it out now that you notice the other hole. You steps forward a couple steps, your arms outstretched in front of you to make sure you don't run into anything.

As you foot meets the ground in one of your steps, it sounds different than before. The ground here was wet. Ah, of course. You had also let a lot of water run down into the hole, and since it was so dark and cold down here, you couldn't imagine the water would dry up that fast. Kneeling down slowly, you move down just enough to get your hands on the ground. Once they touch down, you swing them around slightly, grazing your fingertips against the ground to feel for the dog tag. The water could have run for quite a bit, so it was possible most of the ground in this area was wet. Of the dog tag could have washed away farther once landing down here. It felt somewhat hopeless.

Wait, you feel something. It wasn't metal, but it definitely wasn't ground either. It was smooth and very cold. What is this? You gasp and jerk your hand away quickly, falling back onto your behind. It was... skin, human skin. But it was so cold, it must be a corpse. Blinking, your eyes are a bit more focused down here now. You stand to try to observe your surrounding. It was still rather dark but you make out what was stored down here.

Bodies. Lots of bodies. There must be a hundred or so scattered around in here. That smell was rotting flesh. But something was odd about these bodies, but you couldn't put your finger on it. Ah, yes, you can see it now. All the bodies had no heads. Well, they did at one point in their life, but the bodies' heads' seemed to be removed, much in the way Jonathan's and Ashley's heads' were removed. So these were all the other murderer's victims. So many people. The murderer must have been at it for some time. You were just glad they all were alive as unknown data. Then again, none of them had heads, so they wouldn't be able to inform you much. You wanted to leave, but you had to find this dog tag. Without it, you'd never be able to get out of this place.

Something glints in the back of the basement. Yes! It must be the dog tag. Squinting, you see the dog tag rests on top of one of the bodies in the back. This wasn't going to be pleasant, as there didn't seem to be a path back there. You're going to have to step on some of the bodies. You close your eyes and shake your head, cursing your luck. Alright, just do this quickly.

You step up onto one of the bodies. Whoa, this was unexpected. The body had been decaying down here for so long, the body didn't support your weight and your foot squished its way through the body. Ignore it, just get the dog tag. Taking a few more steps with the disgusting sound of squishing, you hold your hand out for the dog tag as you approach it. As soon as you are in range, you slip the dog tag between your fingers, pull it into your palm and squeeze it tight as you immediately turn around and take a few heavy steps through the bodies again. The sounds were enough to make you sick. Though you refused to look, the sounds were enough to give you the image in your mind. Making it free of the bodies, you left a leg and shake it wildly with a shiver, throwing rotten flesh from your shoe. You do the same with the other foot and hustle your way out of the basement, rushing up the stairs.

You never wanted to see another corpse again. Well, you had never wanted to see one in the first place, but you had almost thought you had gotten used to them by now. Obviously, you were wrong. You move away from the basement door and fall over and bit, putting your hands on your knees and vomiting. Damn, that was horrific. Just feeling the texture of the rotten corpse as it squeezed out from under your weight and gave way, letting your foot sink down into it was enough to do this. Just be thankful you didn't trip. Oh, god. How long could you keep this up, honestly? It could only get worse from here, and one more body could send you over the edge. What that edge was, you weren't sure, but you'd rather not find out. However, the identity of the body you would like to know.

You back away from where you vomited and walk back along the side of the building as you open your hand. You guess the name couldn't be too important, because the way he died would be of more use. Let's see. The name on the dog tag is...

Devvon Right.

Devvon Right.

Devvon Right. No matter how many times you read it, the name isn't going to change. The name on the dog tag is Devvon Right. This is your dog tag. That must be your real appearance the corpse has in the freezer. You are dead... No, no. Stop assuming. This damn Trial Reality is trying to trick you. This doesn't have to be true. This is just a fake world, so the dog tag could be fake as well. It all could be. It all is! This isn't real, none of it. It's all not real! Stop, get a hold of yourself. This is their plan. It must be. To make you go crazy. Maybe you are a soldier, and this is some kind of sick torture the enemy is putting you through. Even if this isn't meant to be torture, it certainly is working that way. This pain was indescribable. Not knowing who you are, or who you were. You could be anyone, anyone in the whole world. And instead of telling you who you are, they just give you possibilities, leaving you to your own devices and destroying yourself from the inside with doubt.

So they were winning. No, you couldn't let them, whoever they are. You are you, nothing can change that. You can decide for yourself who you are. And what does it matter who you are? That's right, it doesn't. You are Devvon Right, that's all you need. And once you get out of here, you can decide for yourself who you want to be. Yeah, that sounds good. Once you get out. Yeah, you will get out of here. You have to.

Lifting your hand, still yet clutching the pocket watch, you flip the lid open with your thumb and look to the hands. They both pointed left at 54. But more importantly, the hands pointed toward the beach, where you had woken up to all this. If this was the last of the unknown data, it would be a fitting place to end your stay in the Trial Reality. One can only hope, right? Once again, you close the pocket watch closed and drop it into your pocket. With your hand free now, you wiggle and flex it, then bring it into your other hand and crack your knuckles, as if it will ready you for the next challenge ahead. And with that, you begin to walk around the side of the building again.

Once at the front of the building, you turn to your left and walk down the cobblestone path. A single drop of rain hits the top of your head and runs down your forehead, winding down your nose and dropping off the tip. As if the first drop was a messenger more rain soon follows, rapping a steady beat against the cobblestone beneath you. It wasn't really a hard rain, nor was it too cold. It was actually quite pleasant the way the rain cooled off everything around, filling the air with a fine, thin mist.

As you step onto the beach, you stop and look up into the sky. You couldn't keep it up for long, as the raindrops liked to aim for your eyes when they had a chance, but you felt as though you had always enjoyed this view, staring up at the raindrops, trying your best to pick out a single drop and watch it fall. Of course you never succeeded at that, but it was fun to try and pretend you had done it once or twice. The rain was surprisingly light for how heavy the clouds were, and they seemed to only darken with each passing moment. Yes, this wasn't normal. Looking back down to the horizon, the entire sky was filled with these clouds. Though the clouds seemed so dark and violent, not a single sound of thunder erupted from the skies. No, it only grew darker and darker still. At this rate, the whole sky will be black. You look back down in front of you.

With the rain and darkness now, you could hardly see five feet in front of you. Careful not to walk into the ocean, you step forward farther onto the beach and turn to look down the length of the beach. The unknown data, or should you say murder victim now, should be here on this beach. You slowly take step after step across the beach. Though the sound of the rain was still in the air, it was still easy to hear your shoes as they stepped into the sand, the gentle crunching sound of all those tiny rocks that made up this beach. Where is this data? It must be close. You were almost even with the back of the building where you stood with the pocket watch before. He squint your eyes, trying to look farther ahead. Damn this darkness. And the rain. It had been soothing at first but with the constant stream of it your clothes and hair had become soaked, and it was starting to get very cold.

Suddenly, a voice. It had a boldness to it, but wasn't threatening. In fact, it was familiar. You had heard this voice before. Maybe this meant you were slowly regaining your memories. But more importantly, what was this familiar voice saying? Sounded like a different language, maybe Latin?

"Indeed it is Latin, Devvon. Do you know what my favorite Latin saying is?" The voice spoke now in English. Just who was this? In English, it was easier to decide the voice was male, though you had already assumed it was such. Was he familiar with you somehow? Better answer this guy.

"No, I don't, but I don't see ho-", you begin, but the voice pays no mind to the rest of your sentence and speaks again.

"Memento Mori. Remember, you will die." Twisted. Who cares for sayings such as that? Well, you can think of one person.

"You're the killer of Ashley, Jonathan, and..." there was one more name you knew, but it was so hard to admit to it. Just say it. "...and Devvon Right, aren't you?" It's so odd to refer to yourself as if it wasn't you. As all the voices had done previously, it remained calm and stern at such a statement.

"That is correct, I am the Drainer, lovingly named by the public for how I kill my victims, then hang them so all their blood drains from their body. Are you curious as to why I do this, Devvon?" Actually, you were slightly curious, but maybe you shouldn't just come out and say that.

"I figured you're one of those sick killers that just get enjoyment from making a mess, though I figure you have some excuse to justify your means." You could still see nothing. In front of you was only darkness and rain. And the voice, that is.

"It is not an excuse, Devvon. It is the reason why I do it. Perhaps you noticed that I only kill evil people. Well, I've read a lot of books on the matter of evil, and found the idea that evil lives in the blood, seeping through people, a fascinating concept. So, to free those peoples' souls from their evil, I drain the body of blood, allowing the soul to pass on without hold of evil. You see, in that way, it improves everything. The evil on the world and the soul is gone. If I could speak to those I have saved, I'm sure they would thank me." Yeah, right. Who does this guy think he is?

"Well, let's see... Why did you decide to do this? Kill these people, I mean..." He could very well just be insane, but couldn't hurt to ask.

"The first person I killed was my father. He made it very apparent that he was evil, by raping and killing my mother, and trying to do the same thing to me. At that time, I wasn't aware evil was in the blood, so he wasn't drained, but I still made quite a mess as I stomped on his pieces." You couldn't see it, but you were certain he was grinning as he said this. "I wasn't suspected for killing my father, so I kept living my life seemingly normally. But on the inside, I was watching everyone. And after my father, it was so easy to see the evil within everyone. Most people at the church were, like Ashley, and her disgusting mother, or that gambling fool." Wait, Ashley's mother? He didn't kill her, she killed herself you were told.

"Ashley's mother told me she killed herself, yet you say you killed her. So which is true?" He probably wasn't lying to you; it was just more complicated than that. Still, this could point to a hidden truth.

"I had planned on her killing herself, of course. I had wired the confession booth in the church, so I knew everyone's secrets. She was already in a depressed state, you see, but even a sane person with her problem would have killed themselves all the same. She was a disgusting waste on the world, and I decided she her soul didn't need salvation, so I let her do the work for me. Her husband was a kind and gentle man, and in the end her got another happy family, void of evil." He spoke of the family just like Ashley had. Oh, right, that reminds you of that one idea you had regarding the data. Perhaps this proved even more than the data is merely the murderer's thoughts on the people he killed. That would make sense considering this now. But, there was one more person you wanted information on.

"Who am I? And what did I do to deserve being killed by you?" Damn you wanted to know. This was it. He might speak in a damned riddle, but it was more information than you had gotten thus far. The voice... laughs.

"Yes, you do want to know that very badly, don't you? I'm not surprised, our memories make us who we are, after al-" You cut off the voice, angered by this statement.

"No! You're wrong! Without memories, I am still me. I have not a single memory of my past, but I know who I am inside! Memories might affect our outcomes in life, but if we accept the world for what it is and live strong regardless, we can all be good people!" What were you saying? You had craved your memories for so long, and now you're saying you don't need them? But... you're right. It took until just now to realize it, but you are right. Damn right. "I want my memories, but I don't need them. You hear me? So keep your mouth shut about me. If I want my memories, I'll hear them from someone who doesn't kill for a living, thanks."

The voice seems to pause for a long moment. Perhaps you surprised him with this outburst. Good. You needed some randomness now and then. Wow, what was this now? Wanting randomness? This Trial Reality has really changed you, well... from what you can tell, ha. You find yourself smiling. This was new... but good. As if just to ruin the moment you were having with yourself, the voice speaks up.

"I couldn't care less how you view yourself now. It has little impact on how I will live my life." Did this guy think only of himself? It wasn't for him, it was for you.

"I'm not trying to change your life, I'm just telling you to think twice before you try to tell me I'm nothing without my memories."

"You still don't get it. How you want to view yourself won't change your life either. You don't have one to view, Devvon. I killed you off years ago, right after I killed my father." This guy really was crazy, always changing his story, but maybe his programming was off or something.

"First off, you don't even exist! You're just left over trash in this place, and second, you said you killed your father first. You better get your story straight if you want to scare me." This was getting ugly. You hated this voice, and it was obviously it didn't like you much either.

"My story is still correct, Devvon. Perhaps an explanation is in order. You see, it's simple to understand once you know my full name. It was once Devvon Right, but now I am Devvon the Drainer." Normally, you would have scoffed at this, believing it another trick; however, before that thought could cross your mind, you hear the sand rustle before you and the voice's owner step forward into view.

He was a taller than average man with a rather scrawny build for his height, making him lanky looking. His shaggy light brown hair barely covered his dull green eyes, but that all matched his clean cut face. He was right, he really was you except, that friendly look you had giving yourself when you had first looked into the bathroom mirror wasn't there; it was replaced with a uncaring look with his dull eyes staring through you and his lips held in what seemed like a permanent look of discontent. Of course, this could be a trick, but it felt too... too right to be a trick. But this couldn't be right, could it? The Drainer speaks again, as you stare in an odd form of curiosity

"To be more precise, I am your sub-conscious. The technology they use to bind you to Trail Reality is still rather new. Though they can block your memories, you sub-conscious is too complicated to block, that's why you can still have dreams of your life, and why I can be here." THEY can block my memories? So that person on the outside... blocked your memories on purpose? But why? "Maybe I am not here, so much as without your memories, it's much easier for your sub-conscious to control your mind. And since Trial Reality uses most of the brain to perform its illusions, I suppose that would explain how I can bend this place to my will, letting you see my work. We are only the third person to be put in Trial Reality, so I can't say this has happened before, but I must say, I love it." This... couldn't be. At this rate, he'll make everything that's happened seem true, and not be tricks. It made you sick to your stomach. Unable to hold your balance, you fall down to your knees in the sand, looking up at yourself. Was this really the truth behind it all?

"Tell me... Please... Who am I? Why am I in here? Why did all of this happen?" You were practically begging. The Drainer looks down at you with disgust in his eyes.

"You are the weak and pathetic Devvon Right. Your father was also Devvon Right, making that name seem all the more pathetic." Your father was... So the dog tag you found was his, not yours. "Once your father killed your mother, I was brought to life, she side that demanded justice from the evil in the world. And once your father tried to move into you, you became weak enough for me to become dominate. Now, don't confuse yourself, you don't have a split personality, I just like to think of myself as a separate person. I mean, you do. It'll be a lot easier to understand once you are out of here. But I'd like them to know... They failed, Devvon. They though you could make me see the so-called error of my ways, but nothing can change me. Not even this." Your fists clutch tightly at your sides, and your voice wavers as you speak.

"So, if what you're telling me is true... I'm in here to test me? To... change me?" The Drainer smirks.

"Don't be so self absorbed, Devvon. I was the one put in here to be changed. And as soon as I get out, you will disappear once again. Nothing can change me, not even this ridiculous world. I will always be Devvon the Drainer!"

Was he right? Were so you deluded that nothing could change you? Was it even you anymore? Assuming this was all how he said it was, when you got out of here, would you simply fade again, and you'll once again be nothing more than a killer? You...

"I... am not." The Drainer gives an ever so slightly twitch.

"What?" You lift yourself up again, folding your arms across your chest.

"I am not Devvon the Drainer. I am Devvon Right. My judgment might have been clouded by hate, but this Trial Reality has shown me what I once was, or at least who I could have become, if I hadn't walked down the wrong path." You unfold your arms, putting your hands on your chest, looking square in the eyes of the Drainer. "This person, Devvon Right, is who you should be. I know that now, and once we are out of here, you are the one that will fade, Drainer. This, I am sure of." The Drainer bares his teeth in anger, barking back, as if this had finally made him unsure.

"You know NOTHING, Devvon! You'll see. I will always be there, and I will always be the one to serve justice upon the world's evil!" You chuckle, lifting a hand and outstretching your index finger. Planting your fingertip onto The Drainer's forehead, you push against it as you speak with a grin.

"You..." As you push against the Drainer's forehead, he falls limp backwards, falling back onto the sand. "You will be the one to fade, Drainer. Into memory."