You tug at the mask-like object trying to cover your face, the sludge almost acting like glue in the dark, if it wasn’t straight up glue. It spreads from your head down, forming almost skeletal plates that you yank at, trying to get free from its hold. Dark sludge oozes down your body, more plates forming even as you try to tug yourself free. It’s no use, soon you’ll join the others wandering the halls, thoughts sluggish and sleepy until the night comes.