Best Enemies

Rubi

I must do it. 

 I'm not supposed to be here, with these people. I'm not their friend. What purpose do I have? My bones will rot here and I would be remembered for the courageous choice to help my fellow peers and stay behind. 

 My story will be told and I will never know what people will think about me. Maybe there will be a documentary about "Rubi Kingsley, gone" or maybe I will appear once in a newspaper as "Local girl goes missing" and a short paragraph about the recent disappearances. Nobody will care if I'm gone. My parents don't care and it's not like I have any real friends. I have nothing, nobody wants me, and nobody needs me.

We continue onwards in silence, Felix kicks a stone and I stifle a yelp. The corridors are lined with mould and lichen. Moss grows under foot and discarded pieces of rusted iron stick out dangerously from all corners. I'm at the back, still breathing heavily from all that has happened. 

A heat washes over my neck, as if someone is breathing on me. My skin tingles with suspense, I stop and slowly turn around, a few rats scurry around trying to avoid the torch light that is illuminating the walls with an eerie glow. There was someone there, just out of sight, I know it. 

Mystical carvings in the wall, though covered in clumps of dirt, speak a story to us as we go further underground. There must be around twenty panels cluttered around the walls. Such things as impaled demon like beings and heiresses with servants coating them in jewels and gold veils. Vicious dogs behind iron cages and chickens running over the thatched roofs, sending hay flying. 

 The final panel is the worst, a girl's body is sprawled out on a metal cube and her ankles and wrists are tied down. In the background there are faceless, cloaked figures lurking in the background with steel clubs and flaming torches. This girl is naked and the creatures are bending over her, her mouth is open with the expression of a scream. Her eyes are wide and there is a pool of blood flowing along the ground into a drain. My mind is fuzzled but I manage to work it out. 

 This is a trap, the panels went from well in the past to recent events. This girl is Nutmeg, this was planted here to traumatize us. Whilst the others are looking at the panel, their faces even more draught and pale, I stride ahead. I have nothing to lose, if this is going to be my 'home' for the next billion years I better get used to my surroundings and maybe make a few friends. 

 Some bats would be lovely.

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