Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"WHERE THERE'S A HELL THERE'S A WAY," Delilah Hargreaves whispered. Darry Jenner turned to look at her in confusion, before following her gaze. She pulled out a small flashlight. "That's what the epitaph says."
"How do you have a flashlight with you? You plan for this?" Darry gave her a lopsided grin which she returned.
"Of course!" She exclaimed sarcastically. "I love looking at dead people!"
The two of them dropped their smiles, shakily looking around. Delilah noticed a hand sticking out of the wall in front of her, and Darry was quick to point out that the rest of the body was also on the wall. Men and women were all there on the wall, covering it with what must have been over a hundred dead people. Disgusting stitches put them back together.
"What do you think they're missing? A heart?" Darry asked. Delilah nodded slowly, refusing to entertain the idea any longer in her head. She shone the flashlight all around. "How many bodies are down here?"
Delilah grasped his attention once again, something that didn't seem hard to do. She pointed to a body with a varsity ring on the male's finger. His eyes slid to the girl next to him, with stitches around her neck. She had been taken apart and sewn back together.
"You know who that is?" Darry asked. Delilah shook her head. "No one ever saw them again after they were last driving down the road Trish and I were on. It's an old legend."
"I guess now we know what happened to them . . . "
"I guess we do," He agreed. The light that shone down on them no longer illuminated any parts of the room. The shadows of the dead corpses were darker now, with no light. It was getting darker outside and there was no sign of Trish yet.
Delilah stared into the open eyes of the dead faces, muscles contorted in pain and agony. Darry motioned with his hand for Delilah to follow him, and she realized he had finally reached the end of the long, terrifying workshop of horror.
"Can I see your light?" He asked. Delilah handed it to him quickly, and noticed the hinges on an old door. "You're fucking kidding me." The door handle was nothing but a dead corpse, it's hand outstretched in longing.
"You wanna do the honors?" Delilah attempted to tease.
"Ladies first." She gulped, but agreed, deciding that Darry had been through enough already, and it was the least she could do.
She grasped the palm, ignoring the feel of the preserved skin that was coarse on her soft skin. When it didn't open, she tried again, this time grasping by the forearm. It remained stuck.
"Christ, this hasn't been open in years. Decades, maybe," She grumbled. Darry shuddered. "Wanna give it a whirl?"
"Fine." Darry attempted to take over for her, and leaped backwards, knocking into Delilah and sending them both toppling to the floor when the head of the corpse turned towards them, having come loose from the body. "Fuck, sorry." He breathed heavily, and Delilah rolled her eyes, shoving him off of her. He brushed himself off and looked down at her, seeing her scowl. "Sorry, Lilah."
