House of Trap

08 | You're It (Part 2)

The uneasiness could not be swallowed even as Oliver gulped his saliva down multiple times; his Adam's apple moving accordingly with as much restrained pressure. The confined garage suddenly felt warmer, and he wondered whether the closed door had anything to do with it. There was no additional window where air could enter from, or where he could escape through.

"I... Err... Better go find the item," he spoke, nearly choking on his own breathe. He managed to flash the most crooked and poorest attempt at a smile.

"Already?" Damon asked, his eyes raised to meet Oliver's, and the other guy felt trapped. If eyes could freeze people, Damon's did. "You haven't even shared your answer with me."

"That's unfair. I spend so much effort and energy just to figure out what the first clue meant!" Oliver regained his confidence in the form of protest. The other was being unreasonable.

"True, true." Damon broke the gaze he held longer than intended. His fingers traced the tools once more, this time lifting up a hammer from its spot. "It's such a waste you won't be able to obtain the item."

Oliver gasped in panic when Damon swung the hammer towards him with full force. His incredible reflex that appeared at a time of panic allowed him to dodge the attack, missing it only by a few centimeters, but close enough to feel the air whipped from it against his skin.

"What are you doing? I'm not the target!" Oliver shouted.

"If you paid closer attention you would've known Bree managed to find the special item. You are second on the list." Damon's lips twitched to a devilish grin. His feet marched forward, leisurely and at complete ease.

"Fine! I'll tell you! I'll tell you what the item is!" Oliver gasped in panic. He held his arm out to protect himself, but was backed towards a corner.

"There's no use for that," Damon spoke, swinging the hammer in his hands like he had attached himself to the tool for years. He was skillfully twirling it in his hand like a parade baton. "The rules states that I will be exempted from the list if I kill a target."

Oliver's eyes widened, and before he had any time to respond or to even think, Damon was swinging the hammer for the second time. No holding back.

It hit the side of Oliver's cheek. The sharp part of the metal surface hooked inside the flesh beside his lips, jabbing and tearing the entire skin sideways. It knocked over his teeth, some being spewed out of his mouth like shattered broken glass fragments. Blood flowed out from his gum, painting the remnants of his teeth and tongue in smoldering liquid of crimson red.

"Yo khra ghy," Oliver uttered inaudibly, unable to move his mouth without hurting. His jaws were dislocated and bones cracked with every slight movement. He saw the pool of red forming on the wooden work station below him. Next to it was a plastic box containing long sharp metal nails. Withholding his pain, the grabbed unto it.

"Crazy?" Damon guessed what he was trying to say and scoffed. He flung the hammer aside and grabbed a new tool. "I am ambitious, not crazy. I told you, I came here to win."

Oliver waited for Damon to make his next move. As soon as he spun around, Oliver grabbed the spiked nails, throwing it against his face in a flimsy attempt. The nails were uncoordinated, hitting Damon's skin like mosquito bites. It did nothing except awaken his anger. And angered ambition was perhaps the most dangerous kind in existence.

Damon let out a yell, holding the drill right in front of Oliver's eyes. The sharp tip of the metal object was only one pinky finger away from his dilated pupils. His eyes felt so exposed and delicately raw. His entire body was trembling with fear, knowing he had no way out. One move and his eyes would feel the poke.