"Break the window." A voice says. My eyes dart around, attempting to find the source. "It's me, love." I keep trying to see him, unable to locate him. In the corner of my eye I see a hand. Connected to the hand is George. He's on the stairs leading to the steeple. I run towards him, skipping steps as I ascend. I run into him and wrap my arms around him, not letting go.
"Your heart's beating, but you were dead." I say quietly into his shirt.
"I'm not." He holds me closer. I breathe in his scent, the cologne I've unintentionally connected to him.
"Come here, I want to show you something cool." He takes my hand and leads me up the stairs to the steeple. We step onto the loft, the one the ringer would use to ring the bell. The big brass bell rests silently above us, a thick rope dangling from the clapper. The roof is held up by beautiful roman style columns with chipping paint.
"It's gorgeous." I say as I look over the surrounds land. Fields and forests intertwine, creating a beautiful tapestry of green.
"Not as gorgeous as you." George says before pulling me in to a kiss. I feel my heart race, the only stimulus my body has responded to since this whole conundrum.
"I guess I should tell you." He says placing his hands on my waist.
"Hmm?" I close my eyes and relax in his hold.
"Only one of us can leave." He answers monotonously.
"What?" My eyes whip open. I probably heard him wrong.
"Only one of us can leave. This was my rendition of Nine Little Indians by the amazing Agatha Christie. It just needs a good ending. I decided to let you choose how it ends. Either I die, or you do. It's all up to you, love." He explains.
"Do I need to spell it out?" His smile fades. "I killed them. I mean Harley helped, but I did all the work. Now my beautiful story must come to an end. Will you leave, or will I be able to continue my play to reality lifestyle?"
"Oh good Lord." I step away from him, but before I can ascend the stairs he grabs hold of me and digs his finders into my wrist. "Let go of me!" I screech, pulling away. His nails rip some of my skin off, leaving bloody scratch marks. He hooks his foot around my shin, causing me to crash. He pulls on my legs, towards the ledge of the platform. I try kicking at him but my feet don't make contact. My feet hang over the ledge, my nails digging into the wood. I try to pull myself off the ground, but he puts his foot on my back.
"You aren't going anywhere. I was hoping this would be a more aggressive fight." He stands over me. I use all my force to push my body up, but he has his whole weight on me. I swiftly grab his ankle and pull it off my back, causing him to collapse. I scramble to my feet, and he does the same. He stands between me and the stairs, my only hope of escape. He lunged at me and pushes me. I try to keep my balance and step back. My heel is off the ledge, and before I can move back on I slip.
I see my life flash before my eyes, before I realize fingers are holding tightly to the ledge. George stands above me, laughing manically. My heart races, knowing what is to follow.
"I've always wanted to do this." He whispers, the tip of his boot hovering over my left fingers. He slowly begins to press his foot on it, and I wince. I try my best to hold on.
Then he toppled over me, falling onto the floor below. A hand grabs mine and pulls me up. Harley is wearing mostly dark colours, what would blend in with the lack of light. I hug her, overlooking the fact that she helped George. She saved me.
"I didn't know he was planning on killing them. He claimed he wanted to do something romantic for you, help you find me. When I figured out why he wanted my help I told him I wouldn't, and I put flowers by them as a sign of respect. I would never hurt your friends." She says, holding me closer.
I take a few deep breaths. I break out of her grasp and timidly look where George's body lay. His limbs lay, bent in unnatural ways. Surrounding his body are words written in books lying on their side. They spell out three words. BY THE BABY it says.
