Guilt and Grudges, 6: Vengeance
Gosh, I'm so tired right now. Been at the gym, been studying, spending time with my friends and GOSH! I've had a productive day to say the least. The last one was the halfway point, so I forgot to mention that. Anyways, enjoy this little one for tonight.
We continue down the end of the hall, seeing an open door down to the cellar. He walks first, lighting up the steps as we go down to the basement. The wood stops here, replaced with concrete walls and flooring. It looks old, dusty. Except for the small sounds of our footsteps and the pipes, it’s quiet. Too quiet, and I hate it. Though it’s much easier to keep my composure now than it was half an hour ago.
The way leads to an open room. I keep close to Chris, moving with him further into it. Suddenly, a closet in the corner of the room bursts open, and for a second, I’m terrified that the maniac is hiding there.
“Woah, woah, woah! You’ve got to be kidding me!” Chris yells, hands automatically going up to protect his head. A box filled with papers falls out, and just as I’m about to calm down, I hear the creaking of something behind me, making me turn quickly, shining the light. I yelp, being met with a small moving rocking horse.
“That scared me” I admit, hand on my heart, feeling it throbbing fast. There are no windows here, no wind. How did it do that?
“How did everything get like this here? It certainly didn’t feel like this last year” I state, turning to look at Chris.
“Doors slamming, candles lighting, random freaky things happening…” I continue, and he interrupts me.
“We both know why, it’s this maniac of a guy trying to mess with us. We both saw what happened with Josh in the shed” he says, voice gradually getting louder and more frustrated. I shut my mouth when hearing that, reminded of the grotesque scene. My hand moves to his side, trying to bring him some sort of comfort. But before he can react to it, his brows furrow, looking behind me at something.
“What is that?” He points, and I turn, seeing a yellow dollhouse. I walk over to it, while he stands still, keeping aware of our surroundings. I shine the light on it, noticing that the windows are open, making it so that we can see inside.
“Chris, look here, you can see in the windows” I urge, waving my hand for him to come over. He looks around one last time before coming up beside me, watching as I shine the light inside.
“What, tiny furniture?” he asks, leaning down. The sigh before me makes my chest hurt, that knowing tension finding its way back.
“N-no, it’s a whole scene played out with dolls” I explain, trying to get the whole picture, but it’s hard to shine the light into such a small space while being close enough to see inside. He leans over me, hand going to the top window, tilting it to reveal a keyhole.
“Huh, guess you need a key if you want to play around in there”
We both turn around, and he goes on his phone, typing something. I start looking around, don’t know what for. I don’t really want to open the dollhouse, I just want to find Sam and get out of here. Slow movement behind Chris catches my eyes, and I look up to see the ghost again, this time more clearly. She’s tall, long dark hair, eerie like Hannah or Beth. My breath hitches, body tensing up as I point.
“Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris!”
“What?” he turns to where I pointed, the ghost now having moved out of our field of vision.
“The ghost! Didn’t you see it?”
I sigh, heart beating rapidly again. This place was going to give me a heart attack.
“You were looking at your phone! What were you even doing? Tweeting #There’sAFreakingGhostAfterUs?”
“Calm down, there’s no ghost after us” he tries, arms going on my arms to calm me down, but this time, I won’t let him convince me otherwise.
“No, Chris, I’m serious. I saw it this time, and it looked like Hannah, long hair, see-through shape, this is insane!”
“You’re freaked out because of what happened with Josh-”
“I’m serious, I know what I saw!” I counter, wanting him to believe me. I can sense his patience is nearing its end, the night being awful already. He’s clearly frustrated.
“What?! You think they followed us down here from the seance or something?!”
“I don’t know, maybe!” I answer quickly, not being able to think as clear as before.
“They didn’t! Because ghosts don’t exist!” He yells, hands gripping his head in frustration. I hate how he yells at me, how he doesn’t believe me. I know it’s out there, and I know it’s crazy, but I need him to believe me. I shake my head, looking away, though not in the hall I saw the ghost. I don’t want to accidentally see it again.
“Who was talking to us at the seance Chris?” I ask, voice a little lower than before. He turns, pacing where he stands as he sighs, matching my energy and calming down.
A creak interrupts us, and we both automatically look to the hall. A picture, previously on the wall, slams down on the concrete. We both shriek, taking a step back instinctively.
“What did that?” I whisper, not able to take my eyes off the picture frame laying on the ground.
“How did it just jump off like that?” Chris asks, and I shake my head in disbelief. His answer is as good as mine. He starts walking towards the scene, and I keep close, not wanting to be alone. As we get to the picture, he leans down, lifting it. It’s a normal picture with Blackwood Mountain written in the bottom right corner. I look up at where it stood, seeing a key hang from the nail. It hits me. The dollhouse. I walk up to the key, taking it in my hands.
“Huh, here we go” I comment, looking back at Chris, who stands up. I look back to where the dollhouse is, and my blood runs cold as I see the familiar figure. This time, I grab his arm, turning him and pointing.
“Oh my god, there! Look there, you can’t tell me you didn’t see that Chris!” I yell, watching as the figure slowly walks out of our field of vision, disappearing behind a wall. I feel him tense underneath my fingers, his breath hitched slightly.
“You saw it, right?” I ask, almost desperate to make him believe me now.
I start walking over there, body acting before my head.
“This is fucking crazy” he comments, following me quickly.
“I think it’s showing us the way, this key is for the dollhouse” I say, jogging up to the dollhouse and flipping the top window to see the keyhole. I feel like all common sense has left my body, head muddy and exhausted. I’m curious and tired, a combo I’m not a fan of at all. I insert the key and twist, making the house open up. My body freezes as I see the scene before me, several dolls placed in oddly familiar positions.
“Woah, woah, woah. What’s going on here?” Chris asks, obviously frightened. A group of dolls is in the lower living room, all sitting around one with long brown hair. The floor above is filled with the rest, one laying on the couch, seemingly passed out, and two in the other room, sitting on top of each other. I assume that one of them is supposed to be me.
“This is the day of their disappearance, this is how the prank happened” I whisper, unable to take my eyes off it.
“Sam said that Matt and Ashley hid in the closet, and that’s exactly where they’re placed here” I add, pointing to them. Was this supposed to be seen by us? None of us had a part in the prank, but if someone else was supposed to be down here, it might make more sense.
“This was set up by someone, someone who was there” Chris says, getting closer.
“Or someone watching us…” I whisper, a chill running down my spine.
“Maybe it’s a warning. I think someone put this here to mess with us” he says, nodding his head as if convincing himself. A thought hits me, and it doesn’t make me feel better.
“How long do you think that maniac has been on the mountain?”
He looks at me, eyes widened slightly, not having thought of that before. I shake my head, biting my lips and taking a breath, doing my best to calm myself.
“But, the ghost?” He adds, and I’m reminded of the terribly confusing and scary situation we’re in.
“Do you think it tried to tell us that the maniac killed Hannah and Beth?” I ask, breathing heavy.
“I think it’s this bastard who’s trying to fuck with our heads”
“You just asked about the ghost!”
“Well, I..” He pauses, looking down. “I don’t really have an answer for that”.
“But why would he set this all up?” I ask, already fearing the answer.
“Because he’s coming after the rest of us too”
The head of one of the dolls twitches, and I shy away, hand going over my mouth to stop a shriek. The other goes to Chris, grabbing his bicep. The roof of the house opens abruptly, and both of his arms go to my waist, dragging me away from it, in case something is about to pop up. When nothing happens for a couple of seconds, I take a step forward. I can feel his fingers tighten around me, fearful that something will happen. Standing on my toes, I see a small, pink book laying in the small room under the roof. I grab it, seeing that it’s a diary. The edges are adorned with Hannah’s name, and the year reads 2013/14.
“It’s Hannah’s diary” I say, turning my head to him, his body close, protective. He looks over my shoulder, watching as I open it.
“O.M.G. Mike confirmed!!!
He phoned Josh this afternoon”
“Woohoo! PARTY TIME tomorrow!
Everyone being here together on the mountain is gonna be SO AWESOME!
Cozy fires, hot tubs, and OMG. Mike!
I am so psyched to spend some time with him. Totally got to stop obsessing but I can’t help it… and I don’t want to.”
“I can’t read this, it’s so sad Chris” I whisper, lowering the book. The page is scribbled with doodles of her tattoo, different types of butterflies. Chris’s hand gives me an encouraging squeeze, urging me to keep going. This has piqued his interest too much. I turn the next page, noticing that there’s a lot more text to it. I read it over. This was right after she got the note, only minutes from her disappearance. I take a step back, as if the book is going to eat me alive. Chris is still holding me, taking a little more time to read over the last lines, his front pressed against my back, stopping me from wanting to get away from it. As I hear him sigh, I close the book, figuring that he’s done reading. I place it back where it was, both of us silent, unsure of what to say about this. It’s so sad, and she was so obsessive. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who’s that into a taken man. A creaking sound interrupts our thoughts, and we both turn back to the hall where the picture fell, the sound coming from there.
“What was that?” I whisper, looking up at him. He keeps staring into the hall, waiting for something to come out.
“It came from down there” he answers, voice weak but determined. He lets go of me, starting to move toward it. I take one last look at the dollhouse, memoring the scene, analyzing the placements. This made so little sense, everything so far has. Ashley’s doll catches my eye, her bent down in the closet, Matt beside her. Maybe she was meant to see this? I hope she’s safe. I hope the maniac hasn’t found her, that she’s locked into her room.
We walk to the end of the hall, Chris taking the lead as I follow yet again. I’m not trembling as bad as I used to, but it’s nearly there. The anticipation, the scares, the confusion. Everything mixed with exhaustion and dehydration goes a long way. On our right, the creaking door is barely open. As Chris hesitates, I take the lead, opening it slowly. The old wood makes loud noises, the sounds echoing through the walls of the basement.
He walks in front of me, peeking his head inside just to check. After a couple of seconds he takes a step. I stand outside the door, trying to capture as much as possible without going inside. Out of the blue, the ghost comes up in our faces, screaming. I cry out, taking a step back right before the door shuts close, leaving Chris alone on the other side.
“Chris! Chris!” I yell, immediately going for the knob, trying to open it. No way are we gonna get stuck on each end of this barrier. A small click hears on the other side, and he opens the door calmly, as if the sight before us didn’t even happen. I breathe out, walking up to him just so we’re on the same side.
“Nothing” he explains, looking around the room.
“But you did see it, right?” I ask, voice lowered as my heart rate slows.
I sigh, releasing that there might be nothing that’ll make him admit to what we just saw. He continues pacing around the room, seeing if the thing is anywhere.
“But where did it go then?”
I look around, not able to answer. It’s gone again. It appeared, like it had done several times, and disappeared without a trace. I don’t understand how any of this works. I try to keep my head cool, to come up with a simple explanation, but one doesn’t arrive, and it bothers me down to my core. Why can’t I think rationally? Ghosts don't exist… right?
As I walk around, I notice a blue book on the workbench, but it’s not as dusty as everything else.
“Hey, look at this” I say, not bothering to turn over my shoulder before taking it in my hands.
“A catalogue… for industrial light bulbs?”
“It’s so random” I state, opening it. “And it isn’t as dusty as everything else, so that means someone has been down here, reading this”. I flip through a couple of pages, eventually stopping when I see a circled item.
“Original lamp for RB type projectors?” I mutter, showing the page to him. He reads over the description.
“That’s a powerful bulb” he comments, eyes looking over the text. I nod, closing the book and placing it back on the workbench. Why would someone need that? I turn to Chris, who’s already begun walking further in. I jog over, turning the corner to see him going.
“Chris, wait up” I say, getting up beside him. He turns, a little surprised to see how far he went.
“Shit sorry. My curiosity got the better of me” he admits, a small smile on his lips. I look up at him, taking in the familiar face. He’s got a big, red bruise on his head, going all the way down to the side of his eye. I give him a comforting smile before taking his hand and leading him further in.
“Hey” he starts, fingers still intertwined. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about that ghost thing. I know, we both saw it. I just… you know that it doesn’t exist, right? It can’t”
I sigh, stopping to look up at him, my hand going out of his, and instead up to his face, cupping his cheek.
“I know, I’m just freaked out, we both are. I want to get out of here as quick as possible”
He nods, his free hand on my waist as he pulls me in. I let him, getting closer, feeling his breath on my chin when the structure shakes a bit, a low rumbling heard. We stop in our tracks, looking around for anything moving or irregular, but there’s nothing.
“Let’s keep going” he smiles, giving me a small kiss on my forehead. I can’t help the genuine lip bite that occurs when I try to hide my smile. My brain momentarily forgets everything, and I just think about his affection.
We keep going, The halls and room eventually leading to a new one. I sigh complainingly, seeing the small set of stairs going deeper into the structure. I don’t know how far down we are right now, but I do know there’s a long way up again.
“There’s a whole nother room through here” he comments, standing on the top of the stairs, shining the flashlight into it. “It mammoth”
“Chris, I don’t know if I want to keep going” I admit, looking into the room. He keeps walking, and I hold his pace, walking behind him through the small hall. I look around, the walls draped with ripped up wallpaper. It’s dusty, old, and worn down. Planks are laid everywhere, the floor barely staying up.
“Where in the world are we even now? How deep?” I ask, shining the light up to see an old lamp covered in cobweb. The wiring looks damaged and unsafe.
“I don’t know, this is insane”
“Did you know this was here?” I question, still looking around. There are broken frames and mirrors on the walls. This could not only be done with time, but had to have other factors as well.
“This? This is like a whole nother hotel, I had no idea this was here”
We get to a room, seeing that the hall continues to the left. Before I turn, I notice an iron fence or gate. The metalwork is beautiful, curling in all the right places, making it seem much more fit for a garden. I take a step towards it, trying to see where it leads. Sadly, it seems to only go down, which means this must’ve been an elevator or shaft of some kind. The thing is, it doesn’t look as unused as everything else. The dust pattern is smudged and just plain different from the rest. Chris’s footsteps growing lower pulls me out, reminding me of where I am, and the fact that I will not dare to be alone. I take the previous left turn, meeting him in the narrow hallway. The walls are torn, and I keep imagining things jumping out of the holes, coming right at us.
In all the dark, dusty grey, something colourful catches my eye. At the end of the hall, at another turn, a small, purple thing is thrown on the floor. I walk over, bending down to pick it up. I feel my blood run cold, nausea taking over as I understand what I’m holding.
“What is it?” Chris turns, walking over to me as I stand up, showing it to him.
“It’s Sam’s bracelet, the one she got from Josh. She never takes this off” I whisper, studying the intricate design. The thought of her, down here, alone and scared kills me. I don’t want to think the worst, but considering the situation, I can’t help it.
We continue, walking past another room which looks more like an old kitchen. Black and white chequered flooring, a pillar in the middle, with a bunch of trash and planks everywhere. In front of us is another set of stairs, but this time, I don’t budge. I won’t do it.
“I won’t do it. I want to find Sam, I really do, but for all we know, she’s already dead. The maniac could be waiting for us down there and I just…” My voice breaks, and I take a step back from the stairs. He comes forward, hands on both sides of me.
“I want to, I do, but she could already be…” A tear runs down my chin, coating the dried dirt.
“Hey, hey, hey” he comforts, rubbing my arms. I shake my head, unable to look up at him. I wanted this, to find her. I care so much for her, she’s my whole world, but I physically can’t go, my body won’t let me. I’ve always been the one who did the hard labour, but this… My body feels like it’s been breaking apart little by little the whole night, and now, I can’t anymore.
“Listen to me, will you?” Chris asks, tilting his head to make me see him. I look up, unaware that he’s been trying to get my attention.
“I said, you’re always the one doing the emotional labour. I know you have an obligation to her, that this is tearing you apart, believe me, I’m feeling the same. But you know we have to do this…”
“Yes you can. I’ll be here, holding your hand, having your back. As long as you’ve got mine?” He moves closer, fronts pressed against each other, his eyes comforting and pleading at the same time. He’s tired, exhausted, just like me. At this moment, we’re both at our edge, our end.
“I know you’re strong, and I’ll do my best to hold you up, okay? We’ll hold each other?”
I take a breath, exhaling long and shivering.
“Okay, I’ve got you” I whisper, and he smiles.
A warm feeling spreads in my chest, moving through my body and up to my cheeks. I smile back at him, body involuntary still shaking, but now, more determined. He’s right, I know he’s right. We have to find Sam, and I want to, I need to. But at the same time, it feels like my body is going to give out. As long as we have each other, I tell myself, and it gives me a small comfort, but of course, as I look to the stairs again, the pain and agony slowly takes over again.
We walk down the stairs, which I dread even more with each step I take, feeling myself getting tangled in the systems down here. We continue into another hall, and just when I think we’ve reached the end, another set of stairs show. I hear Chris groaning beside me, and we conquer these ones as well, none of us clearly not wanting to keep going. It seems like a tunnel of labyrinths, a couple of turns here, a small room there. And everything is covered in dust and dirt. The walls are ripped apart, floor worn down, and the few pieces of furniture we’ve seen have been covered with a white sheet, or clawed open.
We take a turn into a hall. I almost get dizzy from all the turns we have to take, getting deeper and deeper into the cellar hotel labyrinth. A small spark sounds behind me, and I turn, shining the light on the floor. There, a bunch of electronics are laid.
“Chris?” I ask, getting his attention as I walk over to the electronics. They have wires, boxes, and it all seems connected. Connected and working. Someone has been down here, or is down here, using this. For what, I don’t know.
“Looks like batteries and… timers?” Chris says, bending down to inspect them. The wiring doesn’t seem safe, so he keeps his hands to himself. If he were to reach out, I would’ve grabbed him either way.
“Yeah, timers. The wires go up in the wall, I wonder what they’re connected to” he continues, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“I feel like we’re missing something, we’ve been going at it for a while now, and I just need an extra thing to make it all make sense” I explain, getting frustrated. Why can’t I figure this out, I bet I could if my mind wasn’t as fried as it has gotten tonight.
“Let’s keep going” he says, voice low. It’s not a question, and he doesn’t expect an answer as he stands up and walks deeper. We reach the end of the hall, coming to a more open room. I feel the blood leave my face as the upper part of a mannequin is strapped to a table. What the fuck?
I hurry after Chris, not even able to process it. Inside the next room, there’s a big sink with a bunch of bloody hooks hanging over it. As soon as I walk inside, the door behind me slams shut. Shit. He must know we’re here, he must. Unless it’s like a safety measure, an automatic lock? Chris almost seems to have gotten used to the continuous jumpscares, as his body jolts only a bit before calming again. I don’t want to keep going, and I don’t want to inspect the room, but my curiosity gets the better of me. The room is filled with garbage and broken furniture. There’s also another mannequin here, and the floor has changed from stone to small orange tiles. They still look worn and several broken, so at least they’re not new. But what catches my eye, is what’s in the corner of the room, a tree plate with a bunch of pictures fastened on it. They’re all of us.
“Chris. You have to see this” I whisper, not able to take my eyes off it. When were these pictures taken? They all look like they were captured when we weren’t watching.
“What is this, some type of hitlist?” Chris asks, and I shake my head, unable to comprehend it. It must be, he’s right.
I still don’t want to, and my mind is begging me to stop, but I keep going. I force myself forward with each step I take, determined to keep going and find Sam. As we wander, we have to make several choices. This is a labyrinth of halls and rooms, and the last thing I want is for us to get lost. We arrive at a big steel door. It looks heavy, and when we shine our lights on it, we notice the red substance, some of it still dripping.
“Fuck, is that…?” I start, but cannot finish. We’re both thinking the same thing.
I shake my head again, like I’m trying to convince myself that this isn’t real, that this cannot be happening. Chris walks up to the door, grabbing it with his hands as he starts to pull. He’s strong, I know he is, so if he can’t get this door open, then no one can.
“Right, let me see if I can get this…” He groans, pulling with all his might, making it open slowly.
“G-got it, but this thing is heavy” he stammers, standing between the door and frame, trying to hold it open for me.
“Be careful” I comment, hands going out, but I know that I can’t disturb him as he does his best to make the gap bigger.
“You’ve got to come through, I can’t hold it for long”
Right before I’m about to walk in with him, I catch a movement in the corner of my right eye. I shine the light there, trying to catch what it was.
“Wait Chris, I think I just saw Sam over there” I say, squinting my eyes to try to see the movement again. It could also be an animal, but how would something that big survive down here?
“Are you sure?” he asks with a strained voice, clearly struggling. I feel bad, but if this is Sam, we should go get her at once.
“I don’t know, but I think we should check it out”
“Ugh, well, I’m pretty sure the person bleeding came through here, okay? So we’ve gotta keep moving. Like, now!” he says, using all his last strength to keep it open. I sigh, rushing to him and getting into the room right before the door gives in, trapping us both inside. At least until he gets his strength back.
“Thank god, I thought that thing was gonna crush me” he pants, hands on his knees as he tries to steady his breathing.
“Oh my god” I whisper, looking at him.
“What if I didn’t see Sam, what if I saw the maniac?” I ask, realising how loud the slam of the door was. His eyes widen slightly while he shakes his head.
“I…” he starts, but doesn't finish, realising the gravity of my words. I breathe out, looking in the freezing cold room we’re in. It doesn’t matter, the door is so heavy and hard that the man would probably struggle to get it open, and if he did, we would hear him.
“Why is it so cold in here?” I ask, arms going around myself. It took some time, but now I’m starting to feel it, and it gets worse and worse with each second that passes.
“Why are there dummies here as well?” Chris comments, nodding over to another mannequin.
“Come on, let’s go, maybe it's warmer further in, and if not, maybe in another room”
We start walking, and I immediately take notice of the machine in the corner, wires everywhere, and cool air oozing out of it. As we walk, I start talking again.
“We’re so deep, why would he want to make this place so…” but I’m interrupted by the sight in front of us. A bunch of slaughtered pigs, hanging from hooks in the ceiling. The smell is fresh, probably thanks to the cool.
“What’s going through this guy’s head?” Chris asks, inspecting the animals.
“Are these for eating?” I come closer, but the smell of raw flesh and death fills my nostrils, making me take a step back again.
“I don’t know. Most of them are gutted, but he doesn’t seem to be using the flesh.
“So what is he using? Blood, intestines?”
“Your answer is as good as mine”
“Can we go, please” I urge, already making my way through the room, one hand over my nose. My other is around me, trying to warm myself up, still while holding the light. There’s a double door at the end of the room, and I make my way there, hearing Chris’s footsteps behind me. I open it, face being hit with warmer air. Suddenly, a familiar voice echoes.
I stop, heart beating rapidly. That’s Sam’s voice, loud and pleading, like she’s begging for her life. I turn, looking up at Chris to see his expression, just to check that he heard the same thing I did. He’s shocked, shocked and frightened. I take a breath, starting to walk faster.
A green, worn down door seems to lead to another room, and I open it. On the middle of the floor, there’s a chair with someone in it. Sam’s familiar black leather jacket is on her, body hanging lifelessly.
“Sam?” Chris asks, but I don’t hear him, too busy walking forward to her.
“No, no, no” I mutter to myself, seeing something on her head. I turn the chair, being met with a disturbing clown mask, my heart almost killing me.
“Yeah, I can fucking see that, Chris!” I blurt out, hand to my heart. This was it, I thought we found her, but apparently not. My heart sinks as I slowly wear down, all my hope shattered. Did the maniac steal her clothes for this? Is that the reason there was only one sock left?
“The bathroom” I whisper, catching Chris’s attention.
“In the bathroom, there was just a sock left. I imagined that she’d seen him and ran, but I found it difficult to believe she would just leave it be, at least not take it with her” I explain.
“You think she even got out of the bath before he took her?”
“I… She didn’t even get her clothes on”
“Shit…” He mutters, shaking his head, getting more stressed. I don’t want to think about the things this psycho might have done to her. I look back to the dummy.
“Why would he dress this thing up like Sam?” He asks, voice stressed.
“Why would he take her clothes and put them on a dummy?” He asks again, making me feel even more agitated.
“I don’t know, Chris!” I explode before closing my eyes, spending some seconds taking a few breaths, trying to calm myself.
“Sorry, I’m freaking out, I shouldn’t shout, we don’t know where that man is, and we don’t know where Sam is. We should keep going” I say, voice calmer as I turn to him. I feel my blood run cold as I see him on the floor, knocked out.
A mask is placed over my mouth and nose, making me inhale some type of gas. A pair of strong arms keep me captive, pressing me into the body of someone behind me. I try to struggle, to kick and scream, but it doesn’t help. The flashlight falls from my hands onto the ground, and I scramble, hands going to his arms, scratching and gripping to get him away. My head starts pounding, the world going blank as my eyes close. The last thing I hear is the sound of distorted laughter.
Chris’s faint voice wakes me, him yelling my name over and over. My head is pounding, and incredibly dizzy. My throat feels sore and itchy, probably because of the gas I inhaled. I groan, slowly trying to open my eyes. My hand goes to rub them, but I quickly figure out that my hands are bound to the chair I’m sitting in.
“Can you hear me? Are you okay?” Chris asks, his voice so loud it echoes through my head. I give a small nod, humming as I adjust to the white lighting.
“Shit, I’m gonna murder his fucking face off” He comments, struggling with his restrains. I can finally see everything around me. We’re both tied down on each one’s chair, an old wooden table between us. I can already feel the blisters of my chair dig into me, poking and hurting. My whole body is numb and exhausted, lungs sore. We didn’t even find Sam, we went so far for no reason at all.
As he tries to get out of his bindings, I notice that one of his hands is free. My brows furrow, and gaze shifts to the only thing laying on the table. A gun. My blood drains from my face, the last emotions I have leaving me as I just stare at it, dumbfounded.
“This is him” he responds, still trying to get out of his bounds, not realising what I have.
“This is the guy who killed Josh!”
“You murderous piece of shit! You fucking monster!” He starts shouting, completely enwrapped in his anger. I shake my head, just staring at the gun. I don’t want to die, and I don’t want him to die. Why is there a gun here? He wouldn’t have left it here for us if he was going to come into the room, which means, at least one of those bullets are meant for one of us.
“I don’t want to die” I manage to breathe out. He stops his struggling, looking over at me.
I ignore his factless comfort, knowing he’s just saying that to make me feel better, but I already know how this’ll play out.
“We just got to actually know each other, I just got to tell you how I felt, and now…”
“You know, about everything. We’ve been walking around the bush for an eternity, and the night we actually decide to do something about it is now? It’s all been for nothing, we’ve wasted everything!”
He shakes his head, his eyes calm in spite of our situation. He seems strangely content, his anger faded as quickly as it came. All I see is that adoring look, his demeanour and stance, how he uses his free hand as he talks.
“What do you mean?” I ask, hearing my voice breaking, tears finally beginning to fall. This is the end, this is how you talk when you know you’re going to die.
“Every second that I spent with you was the only thing I ever wanted to do with my time” he says, his voice sounding strained. He’s realising it as well, we’re tied up here, completely at this maniac’s mercy and he’ll toy with us until we’re both off this earth.
“I should’ve told you how I felt earlier, I shouldn’t have waited”
“I swear, when we get out of this-” His sentence is interrupted by a familiar shrieking noise. We both look up, seeing several sawblades starting to rotate. They slowly move downward, one centimetre at a time. My breath catches in my throat as I start struggling against the binds, the rope scratching up my wrists.
As we both scream and yell, the voice of the maniac psycho sounds on a couple of speakers. I can’t see where they’re placed, my heart beating too rapidly, eyesight blurry, and mind too scared and panicked. I keep struggling, hoping that I’ll be able to wiggle myself out of the bind.
“Hello there, my special little subjects”
“Shit! Don’t be scared” Chris yells, doing the same, trying to get out. He takes the gun, holding it ready in case the man decides to show himself.
“Oh, you should be scared, because here’s the twist: Chris has made one fatal choice already today, and now he must make another”
“No, no, no” I keep muttering to myself, unable to accept any of this. This must be a wild nightmare, or an insane hallucination. But the noise of the blades, the blisters digging into my skin, and Chris’s panicked expression is true, it’s all reality, this is happening.
“Chris, you can take that gun in front of you and shoot Ashley, or you can shoot yourself…” I can see his wheels start to turn, processing the information. His eyes widen, head rocking slowly from side to side. His lip is trembling, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s holding the gun.
“Whoever is left, can live. The choice is yours”
He immediately reaches up, pointing the gun to the blades. I hear two shots fired. I don’t know if he did that just to check if it was actually loaded, or to see if he could stop them. Either way, none of it works in our favour. The blades continue their spinning, sharp shrieking noises filling the room. I can’t help but cry, shaking my head as I look up at Chris, who looks more conflicted than ever.
In a fast movement, he points the gun to his neck, aiming at his breathing tube, eyes already closed to make it easier. This makes me jolt in my seat, tugging at my restraints as I scream his name.
“No, Chris! Don’t you dare, don’t!” I try to sound firm, but it comes out more broken and pleading than planned. At this point, I don’t care, he can’t do this, I won’t let him.
“Please, you’ve already done too much, you lost Josh, you’ve helped me, been there for me. Please, it shouldn’t be you!” I try to bargain, his eyes slowly opening. He looks at me, even more conflicted than before. It’s as if he’s trying to process my words, the weight behind them. I don’t know what I’m saying, and I don’t understand the consequences of them, but I just know that he will NOT be dying today. He will not be allowed to shoot himself.
“If I do one last thing in my life, let it be this!” I plead, tears running down my cheeks, arms still struggling against the digging rashy ropes. He looks at me, eyes locked, but the gun is still not moving. I continue whispering his name, saying “please” over and over again, hoping that he’ll put it away.
He gives me a small comforting smile, tears falling from his eyes as he slowly closes them. The realisation hits me just before it happens. I shout his name in vain, the sound drowned out by the gun firing straight into his neck. The room turns dark.
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