Around and around. The die spun, never stopping; never slowing. The seven year-old girl stared at it, her black eyes focused, yet blank. Her long, tangled blonde hair reached behind her. Lilith sat alone in the abandoned house, no one near for miles. Suddenly, the die froze. It didn’t gradually slow to a stop, but curbed mid-spin. Out of the die, something emerged. White, yet nearly translucent. It had no shape, smoothing over every inch of the small basement. In a flash, it disappeared into the girl. She gasped, eyes closing, her chest being pulled upwards. She levitated, drawn to the ceiling. Her hair touched the ground, gathering dirt. She was slammed onto the floor and jerked sideways when her eyes opened. They were a bright amber, the irises burning as a fire overtook them.
“Welcome... to the game.” An eerie voice broke the silence. Frightened, the little girl picked up the board and the die which she had been playing with. She ran for the door, her legs wading through what seemed like quicksand. As fast as she ran, she couldn’t get anywhere. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t escape. Giving up, she threw the board on the floor, still clutching the die. Lilith looked down at her hand. The imprint of one of the sides had burned onto her hand. The sixth side. The six dots. The six scars. She had been marked. Marked for death.
She sank to the floor, running her left hand over the grooves on her right. The die had indented dots. It was impossible. As she stared at the marks, the whiteness that had dissolved into herself slowly emerged from each one. They fused into one figure. It was faceless, but yet still familiar. Horrified, Lilith looked down at her board game, and back at the silhouette. She screamed. As her mouth opened, instead of showing her teeth and tongue, there was darkness. A cave of despair. The pitch black murkiness spread over her face, covering her eyes, her nose, suffocating her. Her scarlet eyes peeked out from the blackness, widening with every second.
The figure approached her. Walking slowly; steadily. What seemed to be its hand reached out to the little girl’s face. In a motion that most use to wipe away tears, it wiped away the darkness. Crying, the girl’s eyes, black once more, looked up to the outline in surprise.
In the same eerie voice as before, it said, “I have not saved you. I have doomed you. You will never be free of the game. You are trapped.” It faded away.
There was a dull thud as she dropped to the floor. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She was once again pulled to the ceiling. This time, she faced downwards, her face covered in the tangled mess of her hair. Blood spread from her chest. It touched every inch of her body as it seeped into her clothes. The game. What was it? Well, she could never die. She would be in pain forever, bloody and tired. Until someone freed her and took her spot, she would not be allowed to reenter the real world. She was isolated. Alone. Forever.