Nothing felt worse than losing Calum.
Calum was my best friend. He was the only one who understood me at all times. He was always there for me. He loved me the way I loved him.
And now my love is gone. My best friend is gone.
All because I got our asses stuck in this damned house.
Michael, Cheyann, and I were huddled around Calum's body.
His neck broke on impact. Blood spread from here all the way to the dining room. He was drained and I...I couldn't handle it.
"Luke," Cheyann asked, "Are you okay?" I looked at her. Those hazel eyes were just as red and blotchy as Calum's before he jumped to his death.
I shook my head, tears cascading in rivers down my cheeks. "No. I'm not. I couldn't save him."
"It isn't your fault," Michael responded. He was oddly, playing with the button on Calum's flannel.
"But I got us lost. I turned into this place-"
"He told you to Luke! Either way, this isn't anyone's fault. They are driving us insane," he spat. He stood, anger boiling in him.
"Let's just get back to the room," he groaned.
"So daddy can make us jump too? That room isn't safe," I signed.
Cheyann looked both of us up and down, "The kitchen?"
Michael shook his head. "Absolutely not. I'm sure that's where the three psychotic drama brats stay."
She raised a brow, "How about the attic?"
Michael laughed, "You're kidding right?"
She shrugged, "Do you have a better idea? We're stuck here. We're going to die here. Our time is ticking, Michael."
Suddenly, I was took back to Ashton. He said the same thing right before he died.
"Cheyann, what did you just say?"
She spoke again, "Our time is ticking..."
I looked her in the eye, "Why do you say that?"
"What am I supposed to say? I'm accepting the fact that I'm going to die tonight. You should too."
She stood and walked to the head of the stairs. "Chey?"
Michael began to follow her, knowing this drill all to well.
Then I heard screaming.
Loud blood curling screams of a woman. Footsteps and pounding on every wall surrounding the three of us. Laughing, giggles of little girls.
The sounds of clocks eating away at my sanity.
Tick..
Tock..
Tick..
Tock..
I shut my eyes. My vision was blurry anyhow.
My heart beat was speeding up and I was heaving for breath.
"Michael," I fought, "Michael help!"
Not a minute later, I felt Michael's large hands wrap around my shoulders. He pulled me on my feet, "Lukey...It's okay...I'm here."
He pulled me into a hug and I felt a small sense of relief. I gripped his shirt tight. "It hurts..."
He rubbed circles into my back. "I know, I know. Just fight it..."
You could hear the worry in his voice. And just like that, it stopped. The ringing of bells and the screams. The clocks and the children. It all stopped. Everything was normal.
I looked up at Michael, hope in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked.
I nodded slightly and pulled away from the boy. He smiled, "You fought it, Lukey...Maybe you can get us out!"
He seemed over excited. Too excited, and too hopeful.
I looked back at Cheyann but she was no longer there. I felt my stomach drop.
"Michael, where did she go?!" I was yelling. Frantic.
I can't handle another one...
I ran up the stairs. Michael followed close behind me.
"She probably ran to the attic when your breakdown started," Michael said surely. I nodded and ran.
Michael stayed close. We ran up the three flights of stairs and then up another to the attic.
The door was swung wide open. My throat hitched as I stepped forward.
The greusome scent of death and mold drifted through the open slot.
"Cheyann?" I called out. But there was no response. "Chey?" I tried again.
I heard a creak of the floor and a loud thud. I looked at Michael who was holding his sweater over his nose.
He nodded.
I entered the room first, afraid of what I might find.
"Cheyann?" I asked. Michael passed me into the room and turned, "I don't see -"
He stopped mid sentence and dropped his sweater. His mouth hung open like a hungry dogs and he pointed to the corner of the room behind me.
I turned and felt another planet crash at my feet.
There she was. The blonde was hung by a double knotted noose in the corner of the room.
And just behind her sat a painting.
A young woman hanging by a noose. Blood pouring from a gap in her stomach.
I glanced down at Cheyann to see a mirror image. A puddle of fresh blood gathered under her hanging body.
"What does the painting say?" Michael asked.
I took a deep breath and walked over to Cheyann's body. "Help me get her down," I replied.
Michael did so.
We carefully sat the limp body on a old couch stored in the corner of the room.
I then read over the painting.
"Mary Galloway : The Hanging Widow."
I felt my body tense and I just wished for the world to stop.
"Fuck!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.
I was tired, broken, and not prepared for what was coming next.
It was down to Michael and I.
No way in hell were we getting out of here alive.
"Come on Lukey. Let's get down stairs."
I agreed after granting Cheyann a goodbye.
This nightmare was literally hell.
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So we don't have much more before the ending. Sorry if this sucks. It's just a short story, really. So..
I do hope you're enjoying. I love you guys. Thanks so much x
- Robin
