Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Harry gave up screaming when he realized the effort was stealing his air, of which very little remained.
He tried again to push the wood, which again proved pointless – it wouldn't budge. What Harry didn't know was that it had rained for most of the night and this had made the earth sodden and heavy, literally sealing him underground.
He inhaled slow and short breaths in order to conserve the oxygen. He berated himself for telling his mum he was staying over at a mate's house. If he hadn't lied, she'd have seen he wasn't in bed and alerted the police by now. 'That's just my luck' thought Harry.
But, it was Saturday morning, and he would soon be due at the bakery in which he worked at weekends. When he didn't show, they'd alert his mum and the search would be on.
But, can you track the location of a turned off phone? 'Surely they can' thought Harry.
Then he thought of his phone, and his final call to Ian. Who was the woman that had answered Ian's phone, he wondered?
The truth hit him like a bolt – Gwen Carter!
It all made sense to Harry now. Gwen Carter was the weird Goth Girl that Ian crushed on. She was into all the 'Dark Net' stuff and he figured Ian's idea was probably hers and Ian just went along with it to get on her good side.
He imagined them both talking about their evil pact, about whether or not he was dead yet. In fact, he thought – 'I bet the losers are actually at my grave right now, blogging about their deed for some sicko site!'
Harry had managed to suppress his panic to conserve his air, but now rage took over and he slammed his knee up into the wood.
On his third knee kick he felt his skin split and he gave up.
Harry's eyes had become a little accustomed to the darkness and he saw the line where two planks of wood met. He tried to force his fingers in between them, to loosen them, prise the boards apart and dig his way out.
But all he managed to do was peal back the nail on his index finger; it hung loose and floppy, hanging on by a bloodied piece of sinew. The pain didn't bother him, why would it when you were counting down the minutes to your death.
Because it was about this time that Harry decided to give up. Ian's idea had got him 'who cares if it was Gwen Carter's' thought Harry as his hope began to dwindle.
Strangely, as Harry's oxygen supply continued to diminish, so did his panic. In his woozy like state he began to reflect 'his friendship with Ian brought him the ultimate in bad luck, death by burial alive' he thought.
And in his final moments Harry found forgiveness for Ian and Gwen. He felt a wonderful sense of relaxation coupled by a profound feeling of peace. His final wish was that his grave was found so his mum and little sister could come and visit him.
