Choices

Story 1: Choice #3

You decide to do nothing.

You shake off the occurrences. You were too scared to do anthing. You didn't want to get hurt. You didn't want to die.

You lay back down in your bed, ready to go back to sleep. But you couldn't.

You lay there. Listening to the painful screams and shouts coming from downstairs and outside. You dragged yourself from bed, and locked every entry way into your room.

But your paranoia didn't stop there.

You push your bed up against the door, and put the wooden planks up against the window. You look fearfully at your dresser.

Your mind is screaming at you. Telling you to go. To go and help. You were mentally torn. Scared and brave. You didn't care. You didn't care that your friends were dying. You didn't care that everyone you knew and loved was screaming for you. For you to help them. You didn't care that your loved ones were dying. But you did.

You ran to your dresser, and yanked it out of place, revealing a secret passage. You crawl into the small room.

A wave of nostalgia washed over you. Your parents. Your friends. Helping you make this. Telling you that if something ever happened. That if anyone and/or thing tried to hurt you. To go in the room. To stay in the room. To make sure you stayed alive. To keep living. Just for them.

You crawl into the passage leading into the room. The walls were painted a dark, chocolate brown. The carpet a nice cream color. The wooden desk a polished mahogany. The bed in the far left corner had several dark colored blankets, several pillows, and your favorite stuffed animal from when you were younger. There was an
up-to-date desk-top computer sitting on top of the desk. Good thing you got wi-fi a bit back. You were going to be in here for a while. A couple photos of you, your friends, and family were scattered on the walls. Another dresser
-much like the one you just pulled out- was against the wall opposite your bed. Another small hallway leading to a washer and drier. A sink, a small fridge, and a couple other things needed for a nice survival.

You sighed, resting a hand on your forehead. It was going to be a rough couple of months.

You looked back towards the passage you came from, and went back through it. You pulled the dresser that was concealing the small entry back into it's original position. This time, locking the bolts into place. Thank goodness you forgot to last time.

Thank all that was holy, that you convinced them to make the room soundproof. You couldn't hear the screams you knew were there.

You returned to the room, once again, ready for another round of sleep. But once again. You couldn't sleep.

You walked over to the computer, turning it on. You picked up the headset that was laying inside the drawer in the desk.

A little while later, you got sleepy again. You walked over to the bed, got under the covers, hugged the plush tightly. You, once again, felt warm tears cascading down your face. Your face crumpled up into a look of despair. You cried. You let out all of the tears of desperation you had. Letting them out. Letting them flow freely.

A couple minutes later, you couldn't take it anymore.

You got up -still hugging the plushy- and walked into the makeshift kitchen.

You picked up a knife.

You looked at it with a neutral face.

Everyone you liked was either dead or dying.

You didn't want to live knowing that you did nor are going to do anything about it.

You were a coward.

You hated yourself.

Still hugging the plushy, you whispered.

"I'm sorry,"

You plunged the shiny knife into your throat with a smile.

Darkness