The human mind is extremely adaptable. Go back through history and read up on the shit people did to survive and you’ll find that we can normalize just about anything. Anyone who has gone through military basic training can tell you what first seems absurd and punishing will eventually become standard and tolerable. You either get there or break. That’s how it is.

  My last few hours had been a literal purgatory, stuck between death and what was my real life. Despite it all, despite the deaths and the pain, it was a wonder that I hadn’t gone insane. Part of me wondered if that was part of the world that I lived in now. Whoever “Management” was, it seemed like they had a goal of making me run the dungeon, and I would be no good to do that if I lost my mind.

  But asking me to eat a beating heart, like something a goddamn animal would do, seemed like a step too far.

  I looked down to the heart pumping away in my hand, warm and feeling very much alive. We weren’t the most affluent growing up, so I had eaten hearts before. Rabbit, usually part of a stew, and sometimes fried chicken hearts and gizzards. There was even the occasional stuffed beef heart. All had been prepared, spiced, and cooked, giving the somewhat rubbery organ a palatable flavor.

  This was raw. This was moving.

  I looked to Shopkeep. “You’re kidding me right?”

  She crossed her massive arms, looking down at me. “Can’t say that I am.”

  It was about as big as a fist, so if I were to eat it, it would take multiple bites. It wasn’t just popping it into my mouth. I would be committed.

  Shopkeep spoke up again, watching me hesitate. “Listen, I don’t know a lot about what goes on outside the shop, but I do have information about the items that I carry. If you want to refill health, you’re going to have to eat it.”

  I shook my head. “There’s gotta be another way. This is too goddamn savage.”

  The minotaur thought for a moment, as if going through a catalogue in her head.

  “Listen, there are other items that will refill health, but you’re going to have to unlock them. That’s all I can tell you. Right now, that,” she motioned to the heart, “that’s your only option. Are you really going to go back out there in your condition? Or are you going to give yourself the best chance you can get?”

  I looked back to the heart. I had never felt so unhungry in my life. “Embrace the suck,” I said.

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  I closed my eyes and brought the organ up to my mouth. Maybe if I didn’t look at it, I could trick my mind into thinking I was consuming something else.

  I took a small first bite. I could feel the heart pulse against my lips, the unnatural warmth of the meat mixed with fresh blood landing on my tongue.

  For a split second my instinct was to gag, to spit it out and toss the heart across the room, but suddenly I started to feel better.

  I kept my eyes closed, biting away chunks and swallowing. With each piece I could feel the wounds I had sustained healing. Suddenly the piece of throbbing meat was gone from my hand.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw the shopkeeper grinning at me. “Atta boy, you might survive this yet.”

  The heart display now showed that I had regained a single heart of health, bringing me to a full heart and one half-heart. Three hits.

  I looked down to my left arm, the one that had been somewhat mangled in the fight with my sink. It was still damaged, but it didn’t look nearly as bad as it had.

  Suddenly I felt myself being lifted from the ground by my shirt and carried toward the wall I had fallen through.

  “Your money’s gone, so out you go,” the shopkeep said.

  “Wait!” I tried to protest, but before I knew it I was flying straight through the wall and back into the corridor.

  “You can find me again once you have some more silver,” the minotaur’s voice echoed through the wall. “Good luck!”

  I landed in a sprawl, the wind knocked out of me and a half-heart of health suddenly gone.

  “Son of a bitch,” I gasped, pulling myself to my feet.

  I moved back to the wall, intending to go straight back into the shop and raise hell, but no matter where I felt or pushed I could not go through.

  “Shopkeep? You still there?” I asked the wall, hoping that she could still hear me.

  Nothing.

  “Fuuuuuck!”

  While I tried to determine what to do next, my phone dinged. There was a new notification.

  Tip. You can obtain useful items from shops. Just don’t stay too long or the shopkeep will throw you out. Management.

  “No shit.”

  I’m not sure what I was more pissed about. Getting kicked out of what seemed like a safe space, having to eat a heart, or losing health so quickly after I had regained it.

  And what was it she said about this being the tutorial? I had died twice during the tutorial?

  I felt anger rise, threatening to take over and send me into a rage, blindly charging. I couldn’t let it. That would just hasten death.

  I slowed my breath, considering my options. Maybe in the course of all this I was able to get back into my apartment.

  I walked back to my door, past the ash pile that was the laundry sink, and tried the knob.

  Nothing, except for a familiar message.

  You may not return to your home until you clear the floor. Management.

  I slammed a fist on the door, thankfully not hard enough to hurt myself. I knew I was unraveling.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  A sudden chill on my neck caused me to pause. It was the same chill that had let me know I was running out of time in my apartment, the same feeling that someone or something was losing patience with me.

  A new notification popped up in my vision.

  Warning. Idling will not be tolerated. Proceed if you do not wish to suffer a health penalty. Management.

  I turned, looking down the hall. The phantom pain of my heart exploding returned.

  What did I fear more? That, or dying to something unknown?

  I stepped forward, one step after another, summoning the fork back to my right hand.

  If I was going to die again, I was going to go out swinging.