Hell on earth (Story)

Thump! Someone hit the ground. They struck their head, giving them concussion. Soon, they opened their drowsy eyes, only to see a world of darkness. Struggling, they groggily stood up and stumbled around, seeing absolutely nothing. "Hello?" they shouted. Nothing. Nothing at all. Breathing heavily, the person tried to remember. How did he get here? Why were they here? But his throbbing mind yielded no answers. In a panic, he started sprinting. Faster and faster, he ran and ran. Oh Cameron, how could he get into such a bad situation! Inadvertently, he had remembered his name, but there were many questions unanswered. And why was the number "4652" floating around his mind?

24 minutes. Was that how long he waited? He didn't know. Suddenly, he saw something. It was bright, at least compared to the pitch black background. Cameron began sprinting. Faster than he had ever ran before. The object seemed square, like a pedestal. Finally, he reached the pedestal. On it was a piece of paper. Cameron nervously read it. "Think, Cameron, THINK!" it read. Suddenly, Cameron slumped unconscious.

"Now, Class-P! I need you to jump in the well! Just look at it!" barked a gruff man. He had a badge, with a triangular insignia on it. "4652! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!". Cameron awoke. He sat up sharply glancing around. Suddenly he remembered. CCC? He glanced down at his orange jumpsuit, seeing the camera, microphone, and the recognisable triangular insignia of the CCC Foundation. CCC-05. The Hell Well. Is this what they meant? Hell? The sound of his breathing, heavy and laboured, was driving him insane. "Stop - Breathing" he murmurs. Whizzing around, he sees a white door. He started running, only for the gruff CCC Commander to burst out and bark "THE TEST MUST CONTINUE!" Cameron keeled over, and passed out.

"Stop... Breathing..." Cameron was driving himself insane. Above him was a clock. It read 74 days, 4 hours, and 30 minutes. Was this how long he had been in it? Suddenly Cameron heard screams. He ran as fast as he could in their direction, and he finally reached a pile of bodies, all with lungs torn out. Suddenly he realised, the orange jumpsuits, the CCC logo, the 4652 written on them. It was Cameron. All those bodies, him. Cameron was sickened. The breathing. It had gotten to a point where Cameron had been driven insane. Cameron, in a burst of anger, reached to his chest, and ripped out his left lung. Could he stop breathing? Glancing down, he saw the blood pouring out, and his vision blurred and faded.