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"Ordinary Death". It always happens this way. eternal torment."Alex got out of bed. He didn’t know what to do. Every time he found the so-called "Exit". There was always something waiting for him that cut him off from him. Either you suffer or you die peacefully. He looked at his body, there was no living space on it. There was recently a gaping hole on the chest that was unlikely to be removed unnoticed, but it’s not there. Everything inside is in place, only a seam and a couple of pieces of leather. There were scars on his stomach from numerous stabs with a knife. They were all tight. The only thing he can’t see is his face. It was hidden under a black mask, somewhat reminiscent of a tribal mask from South America. The eyes are not visible, but he himself saw everything perfectly, as if the mask was not on him.
"Maybe take it off?- he thought. Slowly, I began to look for at least something that I could grab onto and take off the mask. Found nothing, stupid.

He left the ward, there was no one in the corridor except the wind, freely walking among the wards and wheelchairs.
“Don’t be distracted by anything, otherwise they will come. Or something worse” – it’s not the first time he’s been frightened by every rustle.

“Four hundred and fifteen, four hundred and sixteen, four hundred and seventeen… It won’t end. This corridor goes on forever. We need to go in the opposite direction. " – the creak of the door interrupted the flight of his thoughts. A nurse came out the door. She was in a medical gown, rolling a patient along the corridor. They were talking about something. She laughed sweetly. It’s strange, before the corridor was dark and covered with rust and blood, probably, but now it is illuminated by light from all sides. Alex came out from behind the wall, but there was no one there, as well as the light and warmth that the Sun gave him.

He continued down the corridor.

“Four hundred and thirty-five, four hundred and thirty-six, first… Stop” – this chamber put him in a stupor. – “The first cannot be among the four hundred and thirty-sixth and” – he looked at the chamber going further – “the four hundred and thirty-eighth."- having doubted a little, he decided for himself. “Who the hell isn’t joking?? I’m dead anyway".

The whole room was https://nonukcasinosites.co.uk/review/players-club-vip/ illuminated by the sun’s rays. It warmed him, giving him a reason to live. The room was for one person. Apparently for the one who pays better. In addition to the bed, there was a TV, a desk and a chair. Soft, apparently. He decided to sit down in a chair. Yes, he was soft. There were various notes on the table. Nearby lay two pens and a pencil. He took the first pen, a parker pen. It said, "From Jack to Roland, with best wishes.". The other pen was ordinary and had no special features. Purely for rough work. Pencil too. After examining the three records, he realized that these were the records of Roland, who arrived here about a month ago. He was sent for examination due to a sharp rise in temperature and high salts. All these notes were excerpts from a personal diary, as I understood.

Something knocked on the door.

Hoping that he would stop knocking, Alex continued to look around the room. There was light green wallpaper everywhere. There is a large rug on the floor, with a pattern that is unclear even to me. Either geometric shapes, somehow connected with each other, or a similar pattern, somewhat reminiscent of a skull.

They started knocking more intensely.

He went to the window, behind it there was a small courtyard for walking with the sick. Relatives, nurses, children. There were all those who are somehow connected with the sick and caring for them. They were happy. Everyone was in the sunshine. No it wasn’t hot. It just illuminated everything with a bright light. And he felt happy.

The knocking stopped. The sound of cracking wood was suddenly heard.

Not far from the table, something was shining in the light. Mirror. You need to examine yourself. Having removed the curtain, he examined himself. He himself was wearing a blue sweatshirt, black jeans and dark green boots, somewhat reminiscent of army boots. The same mask on the face. It was made of dark wood. After examining it, he realized that it could only be removed by opening it like a tin can.

"Alex!" – a female voice softly but firmly whispered in my ear – "Alex, wake up, sleepyhead.»

“Margaret,” our protagonist said in a tired voice, as if he was unloading the cars, “I told you, don’t wake me up, otherwise. »

"You’re dead."- with a savage smile on her face, she said this phrase. She was full of sadism, ridicule and mockery.