Never Close Your Eyes

DTM 🐊 : C. 31

|| Chapter Thirty-One ||

I wrapped 10K's arm around my shoulder to shuffle him against my other side. He stumbled to walk a straight line even with my assistance, and every now and again the hand placed on my waist squeezed my flesh.

I couldn't tell if it was a way to remind himself about sobering up sooner and stay away from anymore alcoholic beverage since there's no time to be drunk as a skunk, or if it was to get me to slow my pace behind our friend.

I couldn't listen to the later, if that was what the signal was for, because I'm sure someone from this group would love to remind us we are now prisoners of this community.

"Whatever you do, don't piss him off." She warned, emphasize the 'don't' part.

She led us towards an empty table that resembled a wheel that held thick and lengthy rope, but flipped over to make the flat side face us and so it wouldn't roll away.

Two chairs and a bench was placed around the not-a-real-table-but-a-good-makeshift table. All three chairs appeared to come from different parts of an outside lawn chair set.

A couple feet to our right was an identical makeshift table but only two chairs that faced the platform in front of us. The chairs were surprisingly filled by the dentists that 'accused us of stealing their transportation'.

Neither seemed pleased by us as both had their arms crossed over their chest, glaring at our way with menace.

Behind our tables I saw random dots of people in a variety of chairs they had brought from their person homes to make the audience. Another U-shaped building built walls around the stage of our performance of a lifetime.

What really stuck out like a thorn in the side was the platform—which had to be built before we ever stepped foot on this land since I know we couldn't be their first trespassers.

To climb up the steps, you had to escalate up 12 steps with a thin railing on the left side. The stairs led up to four ropes that led to our death. Directly in the middle of our strings of murder, sat a nice plastic lawn chair.

The vibes a simple chair gave off was commanding and authority. Whoever was to sit there ran the show, but behind the scenes only.

An uneasy feeling sat in my stomach at the thought of Tyler Burr being the one who supposedly ran the show. That's the last person that needs to judge us for our sins.

The difference between our two con-men and Tyler Burr was at some point Skeezy and Sketchy always showed what kind of cowards they were.

Tyler has yet to let his inner bitch come out when he thinks he's an alpha. In reality, he's someone's puppet.

Clearing my throat from the negative thoughts seeping down to my stomach, I examined the voices that stood behind me on the mental level.

Well, sort of same level. Sketchy and Skeezy sat in the chairs facing the platform while 10K and I took up the bench.

10K was having a difficult time in keeping his head up the first five minutes we sat down, but he shoved himself backwards into the back of the bench.

His head was upright but his mind was in a different dimension. I cannot wait for my turn to lose control.

"I'll do all of the talking." Sketchy immediately cleared the air in case there was any confusion swarming our minds—excuse me, more than half of our intoxicated minds.

Which, there was confusion.

"Hell, no. You're the reason we're even still here." I refused to keep my mouth shut any longer.