The Suicide Master (October Writing Challenge)

Chapter 13: The Off Chance

Chapter 13

The Off Chance

Charlotte's head hurt. Her brain pounded as she sat up on the hard ground and her face felt wet. She reached a cold hand up and touched her forehead lightly. She retracted her hand, squinting at it in the dim light. A drop of red ran down her finger and pooled in her palm.

"What the--" She was cut off by a voice.

"Charlotte?" Lucas called, his voice afraid. "Charlotte, I think we're in the light room."

"The what?" She asked dubiously.

"The light room. A room we found when we went downstairs earlier. There's a load of gas tanks and furnaces outside of these things."

Charlotte rolled back onto her heels and stood up, walking to the door. The room outside was very bright, showing the large gas tanks.

"Whoa," she whispered. "Why though? Who brought us here?" She wondered.

"I don't know. I want to find out though. On the off chance that our friends are still up there..." Lucas trailed off. "Perhaps we'll get help."

Hours passed with no sign of help from their friends.

"Are you sure we can't just break out form here?" Charlotte asked impatiently.

"I'm sure. These doors are three inches thick and made of pure iron. Plus, we don't really have anything but our bodies in here with us," Lucas informed from the other room.

"But--"

"No, Charlotte. There's no way out from here." Charlotte sat back, her eyes pricking with tears.

Too much time passed now. The children were beginning to panic, their minds wandering and jumping to horrid conclusions.

"They're never coming for us," she cried, her head in her hands. They jumped as a loud voice startled them.

"Charlotte, Lucas," the voice said, deep and inhuman. "Your friends will surely not be coming. They're dead."

There were two loud gasps, and Charlotte cried out in fear, anger, sadness...

"They wouldn't be able to hear your cries, anyway. These iron doors are much too thick and soundproof. Nobody will ever hear you, or us, for that matter."

The two simultaneously fell to the ground, tears running hot and heavy down both of their faces.

"No," Charlotte whispered, her voice failing her. Then, stronger, "Why are you doing this?!"

A sigh could be heard from the speaker, or wherever the voice was coming from. "Char, Char, Char," it repeated. "You'll never know. You'll never know who I am, or why we do this. All you know," the voice paused. "Is that you're next. You, too, Lucas."

There was silence, just as Charlotte's door opened slightly, and a small, silver knife was kicked inside. The door closed quickly. The girl stared at it dubiously.

"You will be your own murderer, Miss Hill. And you, Mr. Marco, will watch her."