It’s dark as pitch and just as thick, the scent clinging to his throat, smoky and nauseating. Leon can barely keep upright, each step a terrible struggle. But he can’t stop. If he stops, they get him. But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks, his sluggish limbs slowing as he clutches the edge of a wall, trying to steady himself. Maybe it would be for the best. He could stop pushing, just… accept his fate. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, but only smears soot and dirt and decay over himself even more. He should’ve never taken this job. Should’ve never left his home. There’s not even a moment to breathe before he hears those footsteps again—thudding, seeking. Closer than he expected. Not a moment’s break. The sound of a door flinging open, right behind him so he turns, his heart stopping in his chest—

Then he’s awakened from the nightmare by a hand shaking his shoulder, causing him to jolt upright in bed, panting heavily, eyes wide.