House of Trap

07 | You're It (Part 1)

They waited in the stretch of a pregnant pause. Seconds ticked by, and there were no signs of any possible weapons that could ambush them after Madison had supposedly cheated death.

Ethan pushed himself up first, offering Madison a hand to help her up. He protectively kept his hand on her back, in case he needed to pull her away from an incoming attack. But again, the coast was clear, seemingly.

"Why is nothing happening?" Oliver asked, eyes wide open to search for any possible source of a weapon storage place. The tone in his voice indicated some displease.

"Why are you so eager to have someone killed?" Natasha questioned, suddenly finding their new comrade more frightening. Even the glint in his eyes that was so cheery earlier seemed to be consumed by the greed to win.

"Because only one person can win the game." Oliver vaguely remembered the initial mission. He worked hard because his life was at stake—all of them were. "So why is Maddie still alive?"

Mark interrupted the silence with a small scoff too intelligent for their common brain to comprehend. "If you read the mission card carefully, it stated someone could be saved," he said.

"How?" Shirley asked, rather impressed with his knowledge regarding the smallest details everyone else missed.

"Hand it over to the player on your right; there is no need to be polite," Mark retorted the phrase from the mission card. "Ethan's act to save Maddie was definitely impolite."

They stayed quiet for a while, pondering about his words. If that were the case, did the game allow a way out to save someone's soul from being taken? But it contradicted the idea that only one person could survive this entire game.

"Ah, this is no fun at all," Oliver then whined, stretching his mouth into a yawn. With his hands linked behind his head, he casually walked out of the dining room like the Russian Roulette game never bothered him. His brazen attitude suddenly morphed his character—he was no longer the cheerful guy they knew him as.

Damon didn't say a word and also left. That grim expression on his face proved his agreement with Oliver's mindset, only he was not vocal about his opinions at all. So he quietly took his leave.

At this point, it was almost too easy for Mark to predict the next set of events. Ginny would wait several seconds before she strolled out to follow Damon, discussing whatever could sabotage their next game, he assumed.

Seventeen seconds. Those were the exact amount of delay in time she waited before mumbling something as neutral and innocent as "I'm tired." Then she left, as expected.

The girl didn't notice her shoes stepping unto a small golden object lying on the floor. Her heels kicked it backwards, magnifying its tiny presence in front of the rest who remained in the room.

"What is that?" Bree asked, watching Shirley carefully pick it up with bare hands. Was it even safe? Out of everyone, Shirley would know since she had dealt with all sorts of chemicals before. Her skin was so rough from constant exposure, one would wonder whether she had grown immune to it.

"A bullet," Shirley answered, studying the tiny golden weapon of mass destruction held between her thumb and index finger. "The number eighteen is written here."

"Eighteen?" Ashlyn repeated, eyes widening at an idea forming in her mind. "Could this number be important for our escape?"

"Similar to the number obtained from the zodiac equation?" Jay asked, eyes darting to Mark because it was an unspoken fact that Mark usually knew the answer to everything. He had always been somewhat of a genius.