The world changed with each thrust of the elevator that was going down and down. It was turning inside out, becoming something else, something wrong like a human body with flesh and pulsating organs on the outside and skin and hair on the inside. Wrong. The word was chanted in Edward’s head along to the screeching sounds the elevator made as it went down. And down.
Down in the basement. Ed stepped out in the narrow corridor with walls as white as polished bone, specks of white paint peeling off them and floating to the floor, where they laid as tiny remains of broken teeth, broken after long hours of squeezing them together too tightly.
And if there had been no gag in his mouth to prevent him from rubbing his teeth into dust from the pain that went through body and mind with equal force?
Ed remembered inmates upstairs, how they were howling, giggling and weeping for no reason, how they were talking to unseen persons, how they were crawling, jumping and touching walls that weren’t there. A horrible human zoo, homo sapiens degraded to mindless beasts. Here he heard the same sounds, except there was nothing bestial in them. Nothing natural. The things in the basement were completely alien to this world, they came from the other side, the other side of mind that was mad enough to breath life into them, the other side where everything was wrong, the other side - the inside that suddenly turned out.
And as the things produced these sounds, Ed thought he could even hear sometimes the movements of their tongues - if these parts could be called like that. Slippery pink muscles, twisting and dropping saliva with each noisy jerk.
And if there had been no gag to prevent him from biting deep into his tongue to prevent himself from begging for everything to stop, a prayer so useless it wasn’t worth even thinking? If there had been nothing to stop him from biting into it so deep its flesh opened in several little holes left by his own teeth, flooding quickly with blood, tiny pools turning into a salty crimson sea, flowing into his throat like a dark waterfall, suffocating, drowning him?
Lights flickered in the basement, blinking like hundred blind eyes. What had he seen that no one seen? Was it this world turned inside out? Ed wandered through the labyrinth of corridors, each turn of it presenting yet another thing. The basement came to life with their growling and whining, it was more like guts of a giant creature, inhabited with smaller organisms, it was trembling as they threw themselves to the walls, it was endless as Edward didn’t know where he was heading, it was evil as it didn’t let him out. He stopped next to the glassy wall and pressed his forehead to it, breathing, white spot slowly spreading upon the glass under his mouth.
When Edward was able to focus his vision, a room appeared behind the veil his breath made. A chair in the middle of it, high as a throne, leather straps on its armpads, motionless like dead snakeskin. It was empty. It had been filled once. New throne for the king. That was how everything ended. Wrong.
Perhaps Oswald had never been here particularly. But somewhere was another chair, where his body had been squirming, the body Edward once cared for so tenderly, healing its wounds, wiping blood away from it, touching it in the way nobody before did. Another chair that still smelled of his sweat, the same sweat Ed had a chance to taste as he kissed Oswald's thighs, his mouth being everywhere and nowhere in particular, around his cock, pressed to his hole, tongue probing to slide through the tightly clenched muscles inside him. Another chair that still had traces of his hair on it, his hair Ed got used to comb his long fingers through, soft as bird feathers, light as shadows.
His voice must still dwell somewhere, too, trapped in this vile living maze, in the molecules of foul-smelling air. Screams, cries, grunts. Oswald screamed, when Ed first pushed inside him, the sound fading away and turning into gentle moan as his body accepted its guest, relaxing and getting used to the size of Ed’s cock, a moment of discomfort replaced with pleasant warmth, heating up with each thrust as Ed hit his prostate. He cried remembering his mother and the words she told him, the words no one else told, the words Edward tried to echo, afraid that Oswald would forget them eventually. He groaned and this sound vibrated around Ed’s cock, wrapping it as tenderly as Oswald’s lips and tongue did.
But here everything was wrong. The sounds that dwelt here, the sounds that escaped him were only the vicious echo of his voice Edward remembered. He was in the place pulled inside out, where everything was the opposite of what it was supposed to be. Humans that ceased to be human. Whiteness that was darker than any shade of black. Tortures that lasted longer than pleasures.
Ed wiped away the wet spot his breath left on the glass. He knew he shouldn’t leave any tracks. But he was also afraid what this trace of him might turn into in this sick world. He saw what Oswald turned into. It was wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
He thought he could hear this word in the sounds the things made. In the rattling of bars. In the clattering of his own teeth. Now it sounded like a hymn. Proudly. Menacingly.
Wrong! Up! Elevator going up, but you cannot run away! You can try to escape, but it will come after you! You will take this wrongness with you, you will carry it inside you!
Like Oswald did.