To Breathe or Not to Breathe (Night at the Museum fanfiction)

A Sunrise of Death

Haha! You thought I forgot, but I did not!!
Happy birthday to @madsd08, and thank you for reminding me this story exists.
I know every time I come back and update I say I'll finish the story. But hear me out. I'm working on a real, NOT fanfic novel right now, and I'm 97% done. Once I finish that, I plan on coming here and grinding out the rest of this story, as a sort of break before I go back and revise that novel. This is my plan.
And honestly, I am kind of embarrassed of this work because when I started To Breathe Or Not To Breathe I obviously had not improved in my writing as much as I have at this point. But I also hate leaving things unfinished. So here you are.
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I woke up in darkness.

The first thing I heard was crickets, and I tried to remember where I could be. Was I out camping or something? No, that didn't make sense. I hadn't been camping in years.

Then I started to realize that my hands were bound. The last thing I had seen flashed before my mind — an army of wax soldiers, taking me captive and dragging me to their first "camp" location.

Somehow, they must have found a park, because I was leaned against a tree, sitting down. The weight of the situation pressed down on me. We were outside the museum. Nathaniel couldn't leave the museum by itself — so my friends couldn't help me. They didn't even know where I was.

So here I was, useless and stupid. And it was all my fault.

"How long has it been?" I wondered aloud, my voice cracked and hoarse.

Next to me, a wax figure moved. "You're awake," it said softly. "We've been here for almost an hour."

I did my best to look at the figure, though the far-off light of streetlamps was not very bright, and my eyes were still swimming with dizzy blackness. My head pounded with pain. How hard had they hit me?

The girl next to me seemed to be a child, about twelve years old. But her face was grave, and my heart twisted for her. Had her mother been the melting figure back in the museum, perhaps? Children shouldn't be forced to grow up this fast.

People shouldn't be allowed to make these tortured wax figurines, I thought. It's cruel for them to even exist. If anyone knew what happened to the figures when they ended up in the museum, I was sure it would be illegal to create any that were too dangerous or wretched.

"I think they're going to kill us," the girl whispered in that same voice, so matter-of-fact. As if we were sharing secrets at a sleepover.

I squeezed my eyes shut. They might. They would, if they were smart. Because in the morning, the sun would come up, and they would all turn to dust.

But. maybe, if I could just survive until then...

I glanced at the girl next to me, unable to think about that. It seemed so cruel that she would disappear, too. Almost as if it were wrong of me to survive where she would inevitably end, one way or another, by the end of the night.

"Ah, so the troublemaker is awake," said a harsh voice. I stiffened. The way I was tied made it hard to look forward, so I was stuck unable to see the owner of the voice.

"Perhaps we should make an example of her," said another voice, next to the first one.

"No," I said, a sudden little sob shaking me. I sounded so whimpery and pathetic. I wasn't brave like the little girl next to me. I couldn't die like this. "Please."

"Untie her," came the first voice. "And bring her to camp center."

Something cold brushed past the skin of my wrists, and I whimpered again as I felt the knife slice through my bonds, so close to my skin. Soon, that knife might be cutting something much more painful.