The Price of Compassion

An unknown dread seized my heart, paralyzing my steps. Dorothy and I found refuge in a room, seeking a moment of respite.

Dorothy, heedless of the grime, sat on the bed frame, clutching herself, desperate to quell her trembling. Yet, the paralyzing fear of death was not so easily dispelled.

Tears streamed silently down her face, the horrifying scene etched indelibly into her memory.

The events unfolding were too supernatural, leaving us utterly disoriented. After a moment of strained calm, it was clear Dorothy was in no state to continue our advance.

Since Yu Tianman had already been harmed, the immediate priority was to ensure Dorothy’s safety and help her escape. Or perhaps…

I couldn’t make up my mind. I hadn’t anticipated events would escalate to this terrifying extent. Though I had prepared myself mentally, this level of horror was simply too overwhelming.

“Just now, that body,” Dorothy choked out through her tears. “Did you see clearly? Was it… Tianman?”

Her eyes were already swollen red from weeping, yet she dared not let her sobs escape. Her eyes brimmed with tears, every word she spoke laced with pitiful whimpers.

“It shouldn’t be.”

“But, but she was wearing the same clothes.”

“It might just be a popular style right now.”

“This is no time for jokes.”

I had to say something to comfort Dorothy, but what? Watching her terrified and unsettled, I weighed my words carefully but remained speechless.

Dorothy was truly frightened; this perilous adventure should not continue. Perhaps we should simply jump from the second floor and make our escape.

“We… have to find Yu Tianman…” Dorothy suddenly declared.

For a moment, I thought I had misheard her.

“I don’t believe that body was hers,” she said, wiping away her tears. “We need to go back and confirm. If she’s still alive, we have to… find her.”

“Can you stand?”

“…I can’t,” she tried, finding her legs had turned to jelly from fear. “But we can’t just leave her like that.”

When faced with the suffering of others, why couldn’t we simply turn away, pretending not to see? Was it an inner moral compass, or fear of future condemnation?

What force compelled us, pushing us to act? Or perhaps, it was simply our nature to help others.

“Then I’ll go find Tianman,” I said, pulling out my keys. “You rest here. Once you’ve recovered, just leave on your own.”

“I’m coming too,” she frowned. “Do you think I’ll be a burden?”

“If I also die, at least you can find someone to collect our bodies.”

“No, that won’t do,” her tears ceased. “If we die, we die together.”

In horror stories, I always believed that characters could save more people by remaining rational, by avoiding impulsive actions or suppressing their compassion. Yet, when faced with such a moment, perhaps we weren’t as clever as we imagined ourselves to be.

“But you can’t even stand,” I pointed out. “Are you still trying to be brave?”

“I…” Dorothy was speechless, lowering her head.

“…My hand,” she murmured after a moment, her voice barely a whisper. “…If we hold hands, I can walk…”

I saw Dorothy’s face flush, whether from embarrassment or shame, her eyes refusing to meet mine. Having once rejected my suggestion, what was she thinking to say this now?

But if this was what she needed to find courage and fight her fear, then I had no reason to refuse.

I put the keys back in my pocket and extended my hand to her. Dorothy slowly raised her own hand, nearly touching mine, then retracted it as if shocked.

We had to start with our fingertips, gradually inching forward until our palms finally met, adjusting our grip until our hands were clasped securely.

Her hand was as smooth as fine silk, as soft as frost, seeming as though it might tear or shatter with the slightest touch. Yet I knew she wasn’t so fragile.

She was merely anxious, hesitant, still too young to know how to navigate many things, but certainly not weak.

With a firm pull, she rose, but with too much force, she lost her balance and stumbled into me. Our hands remained tightly clasped as her face and body pressed against my chest.

My other hand went to her shoulder, fearing she might fall, while her free hand clutched my back in her disoriented panic.

“Just focus on Tianman now,” she murmured, nestled against me. “Don’t… overthink things.”

****

Hand in hand, we cautiously navigated the darkness, every sense alert to the monster’s movements, while also scanning for potential hiding places. From time to time, I glanced back to check on Dorothy.

We slowly made our way back along the path to where the body had been. But when we arrived, both the monster and the fallen body were gone, leaving only a pool of splattered blood.

Seeing this, Dorothy gripped my hand tighter, her expression twisting into one of ineffable sorrow and distress.

I held my flashlight, about to investigate the blood, when I heard footsteps overhead. Dorothy and I swiftly moved to the corridor’s parapet and looked up.

To the side, a tall figure was moving along the hallway, his heavy footsteps seemingly deliberate, as if meant for us to hear. He carried someone over his shoulder; though my flashlight beam hit him, he didn’t turn.

Yet, by their clothes and build, we knew the tall figure was carrying Yu Tianman.

Dorothy and I exchanged glances, understanding each other implicitly. It seemed we still had to go to the third floor.

The rolling shutter door should have been closed when we passed earlier. There was no time to ponder how they got up there; at the very least, our only way up was through the stairway behind the rolling shutter.

Fortunately, the power was connected, so we could proceed directly.

Turning back from the corner where the blood lay, we immediately spotted a furry, humanoid creature standing in the nearby shadows. It was the monster.

The lights above us suddenly flickered on, and the monster instantly charged towards us.

I gave Dorothy no chance to scream or panic, immediately yanking her into a run. We hadn’t explored the other side of the second floor, so we had to search for cover as we fled.

There were no supporting pillars to break line of sight like before, and entering a room would only trap us.

So we ran with all our might. The staircase was not far, and we could descend to shake it off, but the monster pursued relentlessly, even faster than before.

Meanwhile, we grew increasingly weary, our legs aching, our footsteps heavy and faltering.

Just as the monster closed in, the hand I gripped tightly slipped away.

I looked back to see Dorothy had fallen. She scrambled to get up, but the monster’s terrifying fangs and claws were already upon her.

My mind raced, desperately trying to conjure a solution in that instant, but none came. Faced with such peril, I was out of options, left only with the impulse to harm the monster and halt its advance.

I fumbled in my pocket, retrieved the only thing that might pose a threat, and hurled it forcefully at the creature.

The projectile struck it squarely in the face, and the monster cried out, clutching its head in pain. Seizing the opportunity, I helped Dorothy up and quickened our pace towards the staircase opposite the rolling shutter door.

After descending the stairs, we ran left and hid inside a room with an open door. To be safe, we opened a wardrobe and squeezed inside.

The wardrobe was spacious enough for Dorothy, but a tight fit for me. I crouched, knees bent and back arched, my limbs and head pressing against the four sides of the wardrobe.

Even for someone as petite as Dorothy, the space felt cramped with me occupying so much of it.

Our legs were intertwined between each other’s hips, our heads facing each other, one up, one down. Our familiar yet never-before-closely-examined faces were inches apart, breaths mingling in the narrow space.

But the tremendous commotion from the nearby staircase left us no time to register anything else.

The monster’s sounds grew more distant, indicating it had moved to the right. Only when we were certain the monster had gone did we emerge from the wardrobe.

The scorching summer, the prolonged chase, and our combined body heat had created a stifling, almost chemical reaction within the wardrobe. Sweating profusely, we gasped for air.

I glanced at Dorothy; in her panic, the collar of her oversized hoodie had shifted, revealing the strap of her pink tank top. She, however, seemed oblivious.

“I’m sorry,” she said once her breathing steadied. “I ended up holding you back again.”

Her brows were tightly furrowed, her lower lip trembling with a wounded expression, as if silently chastising herself for her weakness.

“I’m quite pathetic, aren’t I?” she said. “I talk a big game usually, but in reality, I’m scared of everything, overestimating myself and underperforming, only good with my mouth…”

In my life, only two people had ever wallowed in self-pity before me: my mother and my older sister. Everyone strives to be strong, to care about how others see them, always wanting to present a perfect self.

They don’t easily expose their vulnerable or incompetent sides, as it damages their self-esteem and makes it hard to accept themselves. Thus, such moments were rare.

My mother and sister must have seen me as someone who, even knowing their flaws, would not think less of them.

I accepted all human imperfections, acknowledging every weakness and evasion.

“That’s perfectly fine,” I said.

“Why?”

“If a person could do everything themselves, they wouldn’t need anyone else in their life. And that would be terribly lonely.”

To give her the courage to continue, I took her hand once more.

“It’s perfectly normal for people to be afraid. We’re not made of stone; how could we be utterly fearless?”

“Then, Yi Chang,” she asked me, “what are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid of dying.”

It was a self-evident truth.

“Originally, whether I lived or died felt rather indifferent to me. But then I realized that if I were to die, my parents, my sister, and others in my life would grieve, and that made me not want to die so much anymore.”

Many people believe they must achieve something, become something, that their birth holds special meaning, and that the ability to decide and change must be used for great things. But I had never thought that way.

I could be nothing, or I could be everything. I could accomplish nothing, or I could accomplish anything. Any outcome was fine; any path was acceptable.

“I always get the feeling you’re not a high schooler,” Dorothy said, a relieved smile gracing her lips.

“The first time I saw you, I thought you looked like an elementary school student.”

No sooner had I spoken than she flicked me on the forehead.

“I’m at least tall enough to be a middle schooler.”

‘Doesn’t look like it.’

That was enough small talk. We had rested sufficiently and now had urgent matters to attend to. Taking Dorothy’s hand, I peered out the door, scouted the surroundings, then tiptoed back to the second floor, moving towards the rolling shutter.

“Oh, by the way, Yi Chang,” she whispered, her voice hushed. “When you saved me just now, what did you throw at the monster?”

“My phone.”

“…” She paused, bewildered. “What were you thinking?”

“It was the only thing I had that would hurt it.”

I could hear her stifled snorts of laughter.

We crept to the rolling shutter on the second floor. There was no movement anywhere, making it impossible to tell if the monster was on the first or second floor.

Seizing this chance, I pressed the button to raise the rolling shutter.

Come to think of it, this was my first time seeing a fire-rated rolling shutter activate. Was it always this loud? The grinding gears produced a continuous series of cracking sounds, making me wonder if it was due to disrepair or simply the technology of a decade ago.

What was truly terrifying, however, was a sound even louder than the rolling shutter, thundering footsteps from some colossal creature, bearing down on us.

Our hearts pounded, urging the shutter to rise faster, while our eyes darted, trying to predict from where the monster would charge.

The rolling shutter rose just enough for Dorothy to duck under, and she went through first. I kept pressing the switch, about to bend down and squeeze through myself, when suddenly the power died.

The entire old school building plunged back into lightless darkness. The rolling shutter stopped rising, and instead, due to loose gears, dropped a little. I heard the footsteps incredibly close, and without thinking, I threw myself to the ground, scrambling through the remaining gap.

“Yi Chang, hurry!”

Just as I was halfway through, I felt a powerful tug on my back leg.

“It’s pulling me!”

I felt my body being dragged backward. I desperately kicked at it with my other foot, trying to stop it, but it was useless. My body scraped against the floor, on the verge of being pulled back into the corridor.

But Dorothy grabbed my hand. Her delicate hands, whiter than an infant’s, clamped onto my arm, pulling me forward with all her might.

Meanwhile, I fiercely kicked at the monster’s pulling hand with my free foot.

With our combined efforts, I finally broke free from the monster’s sharp claws, sliding through the rolling shutter, propelled by Dorothy’s pull.

The monster’s hand shot through the gap in the rolling shutter. Its massive body couldn’t pass, so it could only grasp at the air in futility.

Dorothy and I didn’t linger; we ascended the stairs to the third floor without looking back. I shone my flashlight down, wanting to see if it could break through the rolling shutter.

Apparently not. Relieved, I turned my attention to observing the third-floor environment.

Dorothy, however, didn’t seem to have recovered yet. She repeatedly patted her chest, taking deep breaths. While waiting for her, I recalled the direction the figure had moved and planned our route in my mind.

Once Dorothy had regained her composure, we clasped hands again and began exploring the third floor.

“Thank you,” I said, only now finding the words.

“For what just happened?”

“For everything, up until now.”

Dorothy seemed bewildered, but she didn’t probe further, instead smiling triumphantly.

“See? I told you I could be useful.”

“Thanks to you.”

We exchanged smiles, said nothing more, and pressed onward. The third floor was even more desolate and dilapidated than the two below, having been abandoned for longer, with fewer traces of human life.

“Where would Tianman be taken?”

“I don’t know. Let’s start looking, but we need to be careful. They’ve definitely noticed us.”

“Okay.”

The paths on the third floor were covered in a thick layer of dust, thick enough to leave footprints. If we followed the path the figure had just taken, we could track Tianman’s location.

We reached a corner, where Dorothy seemed to discover something.

“Yi Chang, look,” she said, letting go of my hand and running ahead. “These are Tianman’s shoes.”

She held her discovery in her hand, showing it to me. My flashlight beam fell upon the ground where she’d picked up the shoe, revealing footprints beside it.

Following the direction of those prints, they led to… Before words could escape my throat, the door to the room beside Dorothy suddenly burst open, blocking my view.

Dorothy didn’t even have time to scream before a large hand dragged her into the room. The door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the empty corridor.