Call Out

Click, goes the videotape.

Sollertia smiled, the first death was certainly upon them.

"C-Catherine?"

   Keith was shaking now. He wasn't hiding anything any more, rage infuriated every existing cell inside his body. Keith knew that he was nothing more than useless and could do nothing but clench his fist and scream, "DAMN Y-YOU ARGHHHH-"

   Keith buried his face and wrenched his hair, throwing all of his anger and pain at the floor as if it was going to make a difference; like a troubling child throwing a tantrum. It was hopeless, there was naught he could do but stand beside her lifeless corpse as his closest friend was ripped away in front of his very own eyes. The bruised skin of his fist peels off, drawing blood at the knuckles as more splinters dug into his gnashing fist, spewing out velvet.

   Susana was on her knees, double-checking their former acquaintance if she was truly guaranteed to be alive or not. She held her index finger underneath her nose for any sense of a breath, not responding. She then rested her head against Catherine's breasts, no pumps either. Her heart has stopped, her lungs aren't working and there's no denying it, Kathy was very much dead.

   She glanced down with pity, forcefully shoving Kathy's paralysed hand aside and with her own; closing behind Catherine's gaping eyelids. The harrowing thought of the dead made her shiver uncomfortable with the image projecting their pupils wide open. Potentially too, staring directly at and through her broken soul and body.

   Wasn't their task supposed to safely procure them a condition of safety as long as they were able to bypass the escape room's puzzles? No, it doesn't seem to be the case now that the barrier has been penetrated. The deed had been done, the real question now was: Who was next?

   A creeping sensation attached to Fern, a death had catalysed something in him, for he was unable to process that someone had just been murdered. He couldn't believe it. That someone had committed such a sinful act and got away with it, he simply couldn't believe it. Reconfiguring himself, he restarted by beginning with a simple action, wriggling his finger; reaching out for the corpse but weirdly, his body felt disconnected and wouldn't dare budge in an act of self-rebellion. Johnathan kept his hand covered over his mouth, regretful from the slander he threw at Catherine earlier. His stomach turns over in a churn, a foul substance courses through his oesophagus but he holds himself together by suppressing it, he tries to calm down by comforting Fern with pats on the back, but neither of them feels better. The bitterness didn't yet leave.

   We were only teenagers.

   Keith kicked over the nightstand, the lamp slammed over and the drawers swiftly wrenched open. The flickering lightbulb on contact shatters from his brutal swing, tears roll down his meagre face. A punch was thrown, inflicting a painful wound that marred his cheek, the pain splits, stirring inside of him. He had held onto the last string of hope, squeezing any little sign that could convince Keith that this was all fake, or some tell-tale sign indicating a dream. Yet, he couldn't wake up. He hadn't yet submitted to the reality that she was dead.

   I rushed to Keith's side to pin him down, restraining him from further self-harm, Keith struggled, kicking and screaming in agony. Inside a grieving mind was a process of filtration through a millennial's worth of thoughts. He hadn't lived that long but to him, it definitely had felt like it more than anything. Threaded through the bubbles of regret, Keith remembered his shitty jokes, the poor pickup lines, his unrealistic fantasies, the what-ifs, escapades and all of the sliver of time he managed to spend together with her. The snapshots of the past came rolling back in like a videotape, cold lights flickered with each passing image.

   click. The memory moves from one to another in a shift.

   click.

cLiCk