I give myself to you. . .

Do you smell it? There, tingling just inside your nose. Like sweet acid. You can almost taste it. You take a whiff, and yes, there it is! You turn around to follow it, but the room is still too dark. And it's not as quiet as it was before.
Taking ginger steps across the room, you feel the atmosphere of this place has changed, somewhat. The grain of the wood slides beneath your shoes. You know the floor hasn't seen a broom in a while. All the dirt and clumps of dust and whatever else almost wants to hang on to your heels, dragging you to a stop. Was that something . . . soft?
What was that? That sound. You know you heard it. Just can't describe it, yet. It was almost li. . . there it is again! Yes! You definitely heard that. It was like something hit the floor. . . behind you. Wait, there's another sound. Something. . . don't know. This room has just taken on a whole new personality.
Hey, look! Light! There, under the door! Was there a door? Yes, of course there was. But there it is! Creeping in from underneath. A bit dull, but it is there.
Two steps later you hear that sound again. Yes! It did sound like something hit the floor. Something wet. It didn't just hit, it went splat. Yeah, splat. You don't know why, but you have to find it. You have to find it. There it is again. . . to the left. Left of the door!
You walk to wards it, but wait, you still can't see enough. Damn, if you're about to look for this thing without any light. The door. Yes, try the door! The steps to wards it seem to take forever. More steps than you thought. There it is. Dust covered, old , cracked paint. An old metal door knob, with patterns pressed into it. With a slight, grinding moan it begins to turn with your hand. There's the slide and click of the shaft catching and sliding. Fighting dust along the way. At last, you can open this damned door.
That dull light streams in, as though it, in itself, was cautious about coming in here. Shadows move. Dust rises and moves out of the light, trying to find another nest. The floor boards themselves try to move away. There's that sound again, closer. You stand to right of the door, and push it open to the left, slowly. The swath of light spreads over the floor, touching, creeping, smothering all in its path. Like a ghost, on a campaign, conquering life before it.
The light has reached the wall across the room, left of the door. It's a big room. You hear it again, that wet sound on the floor. That other sound, It's closer, too. Then, you see it! There, on the floor by the wall! Something dark, and wet, slick. There's another, there's more. All in a lumpy puddle, all dark, all wet. There's some of the stuff on the wall. Some splattered, some sliding down in a very slow steam, above those. . . things. You have this urge to swallow something in your throat.
There! On the wall, about three feet up. There they are, sliding through a hole in the wall. That's what that other sound was! These. . .worm things, sliding through the hole in the wall, and falling to the floor. Squeezing through, being pushed from behind by the others, hanging in the air for half a moment, then doing a slow tumble to the floor below. When they hit, it's like listening to old bread, soaked in bile. All black, and green, with small vein like tracks along their bodies. Oh, God, the smell! You didn't notice it before. Like wet, rotting meat. It screams at your senses.
Your hand goes to your mouth, a sudden urge to vomit these same little things from your gut. You can already feel them sliding up your throat, with no prodding from you. Oh, damn! Look! They're moving. They move like slugs, rising and falling, rising and falling. Coming to wards you. You've already taken a step back. Now, to the side, a few steps more to the left. No! No, they've changed direction with you! My, God, they're coming for you!
Run. Run, damn you! Runnn! Your stupid legs won't move anymore. Move! TAKE ME AWAY FROM HERE! Still, they slither to wards you. Two feet away. Now one foot away. INCHES! You feel the first slap itself on the toe of your shoe. It has a hold. It's starts up your foot! Look, the rest are there already! Waiting their turn. Move, move, move, move! they're at your knees already. You can feel their weight on your legs. Your pants are wet, as though with syrup. The smell, the smell! Over your waist, on your shirt. You try to lower your head to look down at them, but you can't move. Shit, they're on your neck. Hell, they're warm. They're warm. You try to turn your head to one side, the tendons in your neck straining. On your chin. It's wet. Feel them on your cheeks, around your ears, crawling up into your hair. No. No. NO! NO! NOOOO! Not my mouth! Not my mouth! That's it, they're in! They've squeezed past your lips,over your teeth, and they're in! You stand there, covered in these things, spasming from fright. The taste in your mouth already has you vomiting stuff all over yourself! They've filled your throat, cutting off your air. You couldn't scream anyway! You slam your head against the air, trying to spit them out! Gurgling, choking, vomiting. Just let it happen, damn it! Just let me die already! Just let me die already!
You've closed your eyes, trying to find an escape. An escape into some kink of peace. Just so that this will all be over. So that it can all end. There it is. A coherent thought. A thought about death. About peace. About your peace. No matter anymore about the damn worms down your throat, crawling into your stomach now. just let it end. Please, God. Just let it end. I give myself to you. Take me now, please?