You call out, “I’m scared!” Your words are met by silence, the damp of the room swallowing them without echo. You sink to the floor and wait. Eventually, your body starts to shut down from lack of water. Your vision blurs, blacks . . .
You wake up in your bed. It’s only been a few hours since you fell asleep, even though you were in the Underworld for days. You died of dehydration. Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth. You drag yourself to the bathroom, knees week, and let the cold water run over your mouth. Your hands shake as you turn the tap off.
Tomorrow you can look forward to descending again and being scared and trapped until the second you die. Joy.
What will you do tomorrow night?