teenage tragedy (Max Mayfield)

4. one

Cammie's converse tapped quietly on the wooden floor of the hallway she was stood in. A set of stairs were ahead and slightly to the right of her, but Cammie couldn't see anything up them except darkness.

Cammie swallowed roughly, looking above her. Spiderwebs covered the entire ceiling above her, with some starting to dangle themselves down on their webs. One of the spiders came face to face with Cammie and she stared at it, tilting her head as she recognised the black widow symbol on the back of the spider.

A soft ticking noise caught Cammie's attention. She turned away from the spider, catching sight of a grandfather clock against the wall near the stairs. Cammie walked over, looking up at the face of the clock. It was stuck on three, the hands unmoving, even as the clock ticked away.

"Thirteen," a low voice whispered.

Cammie's eyes snapped towards the door squeaking open at the top of the stairs. A light was flickering on and off inside wherever the door led to, which also seemed to be where the voice was coming from.

"Thirteen. Follow me," the voice whispered.

Cammie winced when she felt something brush her neck, one of the black widow spiders coming into her eyeline as it crawled onto her cheek. Cammie moved her hand to flick it off, but the black widow moved quickly down her chest and down her legs, scuttling away towards the stairs.

"Follow me. I have something to show you," the voice whispered.

Cammie stepped towards the stairs, grabbing the bannister as she slowly walked up. The wood creaked loudly underneath her feet, spiders starting to crawl up the wall at the side of her and disappear into the open door.

Cammie pushed it open, seeing another staircase leading up to a large room where the flickering light was coming from. She walked up this set of stairs, looking around for whoever had been calling her.

Nobody was up here. The room was empty, with just the same grandfather clock as downstairs standing in the middle of the floor, the hands still stuck on three. The clock was still ticking, until all noise ceased in the room.

Cammie could hear her heartbeat in her ears, her ragged breaths rattling around in her lungs. The room was freezing, but she felt like she was on fire.

The hands on the clock started spinning around, the ticking resuming and picking up it's pace until it sounded like one continuous metallic screech. Cammie slapped her hands over her ears, closing her eyes as the pain pierced through her head.

"Thirteen. I have something to show you," the voice whispered.

A sharp pain spread across Cammie's throat and she couldn't breathe, blood drowning her lungs as her hands came up to clutch her scar from last year. Her hands immediately felt sticky with blood and she fell to her knees, hunching over as she tried to cough the blood out of her throat.

"Thirteen. Thirteen," the voice got louder, the room getting colder as Cammie hacked the blood up.

Something cold and slimy touched Cammie's back, making her flinch away. She went to turn around, but she had no time. A hand was wrapping around Cammie's waist, but it didn't look like a hand. It was black with elongated nails, the skin charred and smelling of something dead and rotting.

Cammie's body was lifted off the floor, her hands still clutching her bleeding throat. Blood was dripping from her lips and she felt a sharp pain in her eyes, closing them tightly as a broken scream fell from her mouth.

Blood trickled from her eyes like tears, the hand holding her tightening around her small body. Her ribs cracked in her chest, more blood pouring from her lips as the shards of bones pierced her lungs.