The First Moment
Copyright© 2026 by TMax
Chapter 3: Endless
The red, yellow-striped door behind me had no knob and felt like solid metal as my foot kicked it. Not that I had planned to return to the room, nor did I expect them to provide a way backward, but I would have liked the option.
My stomach heaved as I bent over, hands on my knees, and stared down the endless hallway. I sipped water and spat out the taste from my mouth. Who? Why? I shook my head and cried, while I tried not to breathe the stench that clung to me. I needed to get out of here, which meant forward, but so far, each place had turned out worse. I didn’t know what this hallway contained, but dread filled my heart that I would have to find out.
I sipped the water as my stomach calmed down to only the odd dry heave. Even the smell somewhat dissipated, enough that I didn’t notice it as often. My body still refused to move, and the chimp inside my head didn’t mind as I tried to distract myself with an attempt to remember the levels of hell from Dante’s Inferno.
Gluttony, the circle of filth, where overeaters or greedy people went. Maybe the former room? And the room with the gun, maybe violence. So, what does that mean about this tunnel? Boredom for thrill seekers, or whatever the circle of hell for that poor soul who pushes the rock up the hill. I hadn’t read the book, nor watched the movie, but a friend in university studied it. So long ago. I wondered what happened to him?
Or maybe things lived in this hallway. Animals of some sort. They could put a tiger, or wolves, or even a bear, any of which would kill me because I didn’t have a weapon. Maybe I needed to have stolen the gun from the manikin. Had I condemned myself because I hadn’t thought far enough ahead, because I rushed out of the room? Didn’t matter anymore. Besides, death meant sooner with my loved ones.
I didn’t hear anything. Nothing except the slight hum of the fan above me. Not even the soft clicks of rats or mice. An image of a hallway of rats, black and brown, dirty little things. Rats that would bite, then eat me. Not a quick death like a large animal, but a slow death, as I fought and slowly slipped under a tide of rats. Couldn’t do anything about whatever animal they put in the hallway. I could only stay brave, stay angry, and keep my focus forward, forever forward.
Sweat and tears dried. My muscles relaxed. My vision cleared, and I finished the water. So, time to go. Onward.
I dropped the bottle at my feet and walked. The rotten smell disappeared, but the slimy feel stayed on my fingers, stayed in my lungs. I worried that I would never get it out, but then I worried that it wouldn’t matter, because this hallway continued, on and on. Straight. Hours, days, years I walked. Nothing to think about except my sore feet, my stomach, and the hunger pains.
And the past. My wife and child. My lack of life in the cubicle after their deaths.
One foot in front of the other. Again. And again. Repeat.
Until I tripped and fell onto my elbows, and pain shot up my arms and blinded me. I wanted to cry, but nothing came. No tears. No emotion.
I stared at my wife’s engagement ring. A thin gold band with a cubic zirconia that rested on top. I had wanted to buy a diamond, but she insisted that I buy the near-worthless stone and use the saved money to purchase an education bond for our daughter. Our future family. A savings bond that I cashed out to bury them.
My wife’s smile floated in front of me, like a ghost. Just the smile. In the distance, my daughter’s laughter echoed. They kept me moving. Like their picture on my desk at work, which both taunted me and kept the many suicide plans as plans and not actions. While I didn’t really believe in God, I couldn’t take the chance. I needed to live to die to see them again.
The pipes beside my left shoulder never changed. No markings. Just a bracket spaced every fifteen steps. The lights above me never changed. Spaced every seventeen steps. They lined up every eighty-five steps.
I thought about my mother and her health. She hadn’t looked very good after dinner last night. Last night? Who knows how long I have walked or what they did to me before the first room? Maybe the cancer had returned. Maybe she just ate something that didn’t agree with her, as she claimed. Dad hadn’t appeared concerned, but he never showed emotion. My sister didn’t notice, too busy on her phone. But Mom and I had a special connection, like I knew before she announced she had cancer that first time, and I knew before she announced the remission.
My shoulder brushed the pipes, the hot red one burned me, and I jumped sideways into the wall and smashed my other shoulder. It didn’t hurt enough, but I noticed the vanilla scent for the first time since that horrible room.
Had the walls narrowed? I hadn’t noticed.
They had. So narrow, I could touch both sides with my arms outstretched. The overhead lights had also lowered. Nothing else had changed. Still, the gray concrete with no markings, no scuff marks, no variation in color. No animals either, which somehow made it worse. Animals would have meant that someone supervised this trap. They would have had to keep the animals fed and healthy. No animals meant that this could mean that no one watched, no one cared. I hadn’t seen any cameras, so maybe someone had placed me in the first room as part of a stupid government experiment and then forgotten about me.
Or maybe hell, or a hallucination.
I rubbed the burn on my shoulder as I walked. A hundred steps further down the hallway, and I could touch the walls with my knuckles. Another hundred steps and I could flatten my palms against the wall. If I hopped, I could touch the ceiling.
My stomach clenched with memories of last night’s turkey, with gravy, mashed potatoes, cream-style corn, and dressing, made from a box. Better than memories of Thanksgiving meals with my wife or daughter when we didn’t know how to cook and ate pasta. I needed to eat, but like that dinner with the other parents after the diaper bag explosion, I knew I couldn’t stomach anything, not with the smell that still followed me.
So the hallway changed. Narrowed. No idea what that meant. Didn’t really care because what could I do about it? Just continue. Forward. One step, then another. Onward. Like my life. One day, then another.