The darkness was palpable. His every pore could feel the weight of it. And he was alone—they were alone. He could feel her essence in the darkness; smell her sweat soaked hair. It was the girl again. She was alive. How? They had killed her. He remembered seeing Those Who Chatter killing her. How long ago was that? Was this the same reality where it all happened? He shook his head slowly back and forth. The heat of the room was as oppressive as the darkness. His heart began to race. Each beat creating a pounding echo in the darkness.

His head swam and he reached out into the darkness to find a brace. Something to steady both his body and his frayed nerves. He exhaled deeply and looked into the darkness.

“Are you okay? I know you are here.”

The darkness did not respond, but he could sense a movement in the air. He noted a slight scratching sound emanating below his eyesight—clothes rubbing against a rough floor.

“H-How did you know I was here?”

“I’m really not sure. I could sense your essence, I suppose. “I’ve seen you before…”

“Seen me before?! How can you even see me now, it’s pitch black in here?”

“I…I don’t know. I can sense your being. The last time I remember you, you were strapped to a metal table with men in white lab coats standing around you. ‘Those Who Chatter,’ I call them. The last thing I remember was them skinning you as you screamed.”

His voice ended on the word “screamed” with a strangled choke. Almost as if the words themselves had grown hands and clenched his throat.

“I do remember dying…the…the pain,” she said, “but how I am here now if I died?”

“I really don’t know,” the man sighed, I wish I did. I wish could remember more.”

“Where were you while I was being murdered?” she asked in an accusing tone of voice.

“I was watching. I was in a room behind glass. I wanted to save you, but I couldn’t. I tried. I really did, but I couldn’t break the glass. Couldn’t even make a sound. The glass must have been shatterproof as well as soundproof.”

“You said something about ‘Those Who Chatter,’ who, or what, are they?”

The man paused. He thought about his response carefully.

“They are horribly scarred people, or monsters, or I don’t know what, but I’ve seen them pursue you over and over again. The places are never the same, but they are…and so are you.”

A moment of silence hung heavily in the sweltering darkness. The girl began to speak.

“So, who are you? What is your name…”

Before she could finish a gong resounded in the darkness. A deep, gravely male voice erupted with force into the room.

“Es ist Mitternacht.”

The man in the darkness could hear the girl gasp and scurry towards him. 

“Einen Tod muss man sterben.”

A moment of silence, then the deep male voice continued:

“Lass das Blut kommen!”

Suddenly, a bright shaft of light shone down from the ceiling revealing a gleaming butcher knife lying on the dirty floor. Across the room an elongated window appeared. On the other side of the window, an assembly of horribly scarred men in white lab coats stood staring.

A chorus of voices echoed from the window: “Blutrausch! Blutrausch! Blutrausch!”

“What is this?!” the girl screamed. “What is going on?!”

The man was silent. He looked down at the girl. The girl could feel his eyes on her. She darted for the knife. The man stumbled after her, somehow reaching the knife just before the girl’s hand could grab hold. The knife flashed in the darkness…

He awoke with a start. Wetness covering his entire body. He blinked in the darkness and glanced at his beside clock. 12:01 it read. He slowly climbed out of bed, staggering to the bathroom. 

He flicked on the light and glanced in the mirror. His face, bare chest, and hands, were covered in blood. He noticed with horror that his face had become horribly scarred. These were not new scars, however; they were old, set carven into his flesh. He slowly cast his eyes down to the sink. A white, blood stained lab coat was draped over the faucet.