Stuck In A Monster Loop

Waking to a sharp sting, a survivor discovers a terrifying message carved into their own flesh. In the house where monsters roam, every death triggers a loop that resets the victim's memories. The only proof of past failures is a series of jagged tally marks etched into their forearm. This LitRPG mystery follows a desperate struggle for survival as the protagonist uses self-inflicted warnings to navigate a deadly cycle of horror and find a way out.

Chapters

Chapter 2

After reading the notes, I tucked them away again, along with the one I'd found in my pocket when I first woke up.

If I failed to escape this loop, they would become the next cycle's lifeline.

I had just hidden them all and risen to my feet when a faint, scratching sound came from behind me, like fingernails raking across wood.

Startled, I turned toward the bathroom. Only then did I notice the door was shut.

That was strange. I always left it slightly ajar.

Who was inside?

The sound continued, fine and rapid, like long nails frantically clawing at the door… or like a swarm of worms writhing over its surface.

Suddenly, it stopped.

A heartbeat later, it returned.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Something was slamming against the door.

The pounding grew wild and relentless, like a storm hammering down, shaking the wood on its hinges.

Could the monster be in there?

Every hair on my body stood on end, and for a moment I almost bolted from the room.

But just as my hand was about to grasp the door handle, a flash of reason forced me to stop.

No. Something didn't add up.

If it really was the monster, how could it be trapped in a bathroom?

And if a place this close to me was truly dangerous, wouldn't my past selves have left a warning?

It wouldn't even have to be elaborate. Just carving "Don't go to the bathroom" into my arm would've done the job.

By that logic, the bathroom probably wasn't as dangerous as it seemed.

Forcing down the fear twisting in my gut, I turned to face the door, still rattling under heavy blows.

After a moment's thought, I grabbed a sticky note from my desk and scrawled: [Strange noises are coming from the bathroom. I'm going to check it out. If there's nothing written after this, it means I died, and the bathroom is extremely dangerous. If I return safely, I'll add the words "Bathroom is safe."]

It was insurance—something to guide my next self, should this one fail.

I slipped the note into a book, then crept toward the bathroom.

Taking a deep breath, I set my trembling right hand on the doorknob.

The instant my fingers touched the cold metal, the sound cut off completely.

The sudden silence was somehow more unnerving than the pounding had been.

I swallowed hard, refusing to give myself a chance to hesitate, and wrenched the door open.

"What the—? There's nothing here."

Relief started to loosen my chest… until it froze again in the next second.

If the bathroom was empty, then what had been making that noise?

I scanned the small space, suspicion prickling at me, when I saw a faint stain had begun to bloom across the opposite wall.

Blood.

It deepened, spread, multiplied—scrawling wildly across the wall in a feverish repetition:

Help me let me out help me let me out help me let me out

Help me let me out help me let me out help me—

I jolted back several steps, heart pounding.

When I looked again, the wall was pristine, spotless—as if nothing had ever been there.

What… was that?

The noise. The blood. Both had appeared out of nowhere… and vanished just as suddenly.

Whatever it was, at least it hadn't hurt me.

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