Michael Greer Was Never Here

It's been a couple of days since your friend was taken away.
You were ambushed in that maze of pipes. You can still feel it now—the heat, the horrible creaking sounds, the terror that lurked around every corner. They came for you then, those horrible, glowing eyes and fangs, the hands reaching from the dark. You're still scarred physically, but the wounds will heal.
As for your mind, you're not so sure.
You were plucked out of the crevice where you were hiding, you and your dear friend whom you'd met in that empty, dripping warehouse. You don't know if you would have survived without him, especially all those times in the deep dark when you couldn't see five feet ahead of you, with the darkness which wanted to swallow you whole, digest you until you were just a whimpering shell of your former self.
They took you here, to this empty office building, this building that reminds you of your crushing job, your vain attempts to rise the ranks, everything you thought you hated most in the world.
Of course, that was before you took the most unfortunate step of your life, foolishly thinking, as you had so many times before, that the concrete would hold you, that you wouldn't simply sink through to infinity.
Now, you wait for news of the friend who has helped you through so much.
. . . 
You wake up once again on your bed, fashioned from cardboard, destroyed chairs, and all the other rubbish they had here. You see the doctor—at least, that's what he was before he stumbled into this hellhole like you—walking past. You ask him for news of your friend.
Who?
You think he's joking, and you remind him of his name.
I don't know a man by that name. You sure?
You push him aside and walk to his "infirmary", set up, like everything else here, under that banner of the winged Delta. This is where he was taken, bloodied up and bruised from his travels and triumphs . . . and from the horrors that he witnessed, horrors nobody should ever have to witness, horrors that shouldn't exist, at least not on the face of the Earth.
Ah, but you are no longer there, are you?
. . . 
When you reach where you could have sworn he was, something is wrong.
The bed is empty.
The sheets are clean.
There is even a layer of dust on the bed and the table.
What are you looking for? There's nobody here.
You find his cell phone in your pocket and check it.
Is that my phone? How—how do you have it?
He is confused. So are you. You are scared. No, you are terrified.
You ask around. Nobody knows.
You search the phone. It is completely different.
You begin to crack under everything.
You think it's insanity.
But it is not.
You remember him, but the truth stares you in the face.
. . . 
No records remain, the truth is clear.
Michael Greer was never here.
Category:Tales
zh:迈克尔·格里尔从不存在。
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