John's whole body froze.

  The auctioneer's words hadn't registered at first.

  But the room comprehended the words completely. Slowly, every one of the guests' heads turned to look at John- The ones in front twisting around 180 degrees. But now, their expressions are changed. Not anger, or even curiosity. Glee.

  Dozens of identical faces all smiling at him.

  A ripple of sound washed over the room. A low, breathy gasp, followed shortly by the polite clapping of hands. They weren't thunderous, but it was enough to make his skin crawl with goosebumps.

  "No..." John whispered, his voice laced with panic. His knees buckled slightly. The walls felt like they were closing in around him, like the chair he'd just been sitting on had vanished the second he began to stand. The chandelier lights above flickered more violently like they were trying to put a spotlight on him.

  The auctioneer grinned widely, his lips curling back to expose far too many teeth... "A rare item," he purred in that distinctive oily voice. "Stained with betrayal. Soaked in guilt. Offered now, for your silent consideration..."

  The monster stepped forward, the wooden stage creaking under the weight of its step.

  John took a wobbly step back in response. His heart pumped so hard it felt like it was trying to escape his very chest.

  "This isn't happening," he said. "No, no no no, I didn't-"

  Too late though. The guests were already raising their hands, one by one. Silent bids. No words spoken, no numbers given... Just the cold, eager hands reaching for a piece of his stained soul.

  At the head of it all, the auctioneer's voice rung out.

  "Going once..."

  A chilling pause.

  "Going twice..."

  The auctioneer's smile somehow grew wider. He's staring at John now with eyes that spoke of an insatiable hunger- Or greed.

  John backed up toward the aisle. His eyes darted between all the guests. Their hands stayed raised, still and calm. None of them looked away from John. Not even to blink. Their faces were frozen in that same delighted hunger.

  Finally, John turned tail and ran. As fast as he could.

  Every single step felt heavier than the last, as if his legs were sinking into the very marble beneath him. The hallway beyond the auction room stretched and narrowed like Johnw as looking at it through a fisheye lens. Crimson walls. Gilded trim. No windows. No doors. Just a never-ending hallway.

  And now, from behind...

  CLACK.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  CLACK.

  CLACK.

  CLACK.

  That tap of heels on marble.

  John didn't dare look back. He didn't need to. The auctioneer was following him, as well as the monster. Maybe even the rest of that hideous, identical crowd of bidders.

  He ripped around a corner, the corridor spiraling downward like a pit now. The trim began to melt like wax off the walls. Paintings lined the same melting walls- Paintings of John himself wearing suits he'd never owned. Riches he never had. In each passing one, John's smile got wider and more unnatural. By the time he reached the last painting, his eyes were nothing but black sockets, and his teeth looked like the auctioneer's.

  He tripped over his own feet from the sheer disgust of seeing the painting, cracking his elbow against the wall, but he kept moving.

  The tapping behind him never sped up, but it also never slowed down.

  CLACK.

  CLACK.

  CLACK.

  It's like the little shit knew he'd catch him. Just a matter of time.

  Then ahead, John saw an archway. its entrance was veiled with a cold darkness, but he didn't care at that moment.

  He no longer heard the clacking of the auctioneer's heels behind him, or the monster's. They're just gone.

  The room he'd just stepped into was circular, with the same aesthetic as the rest of the auction house but it stunk faintly of alcohol, and.... Blood?

  In the center of the room, a tall mirror stood- Freestanding with a gilded frame that seemed to pulse dimly in the low light.

  John took a step closer. In the back of his mind, he thought he heard the auctioneer approaching again, but he was too focused on the mirror to notice fully.

  In the reflection, he didn't see the room. He saw himself. Back in his old life. A version of him leaning on a bar counter, laughing gleefully. One hand holding a drink. The other slipping a wedding ring off his finger and putting it in his pocket.

  "No..." he breathed quietly.

  Another step forward, and the scene in the mirror shifts. Now he's pushing Sara during an argument. Screaming in her face. Then back to the bar. Then to him alone in his apartment, crying and drunk beyond healthy levels. Then laughing again.

  The mirror isn't showing him memories... It's showing him desires. Twisted versions of who he wished he was. Richer, stronger, respected... Envied.

  John reached out to touch the mirror.... But it cracked.

  A jagged split ran down the middle, slicing his reflection in half. He hadn't noticed it immediately, but the scene it showed him changed. It's him, wearing the same tuxedo as the monster that killed him before. The same jewelry. His own face was smiling evilly at him, and it pointed. Not at John, but over his shoulder.

  Now he heard it clearly.

  CLACK.

  CLACK.

  It was too sudden for him to turn around and look.

  Then a voice, low and right at his ear....

  "Sold."

  John didn't even think- His body moved like it had been waiting to hit something for years. He spun wildly on his heel and cracked his elbow right across the auctioneer's jaw.

  The man's head snapped sideways, but not like a normal human head should. It jerked grossly before slowly straightening to look at John again. The auctioneer grabs John's arm all of a sudden, and drops his gavel with a loud CRACK.

  John blinked, and is somehow no longer in the room with the mirror. He's now stood on that same dark wooden stage, right beside the auctioneer who still has an iron grip on his wrist.

  In front of him, the same identical crowd stood up from their seats all at once, each staring right at John. None blinked or breathed, as usual. But they began to close in. John tried to jerk his arm away from the auctioneer, but he held firm. They climbed up onto the stage, surrounding him, closing him into a cramped circle where he couldn't move. Then the monster was back, stomping closer to the stage. Its jaw unhinged like it was going to crush his skull again.

  John began to cry. Tears streaming down his face.

  But it wasn't fear.

  As the monster's misshapen hands clasped around his torso, lifting him up and out of the circle...

  He felt guilty.

  As suddenly as this nightmare began, it disappeared. The world went black.