Chapter 68: The Fire

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Not one foot moved. I stood there, horrified, shocked, scared, and confused. Abby wasn't supposed to be in the game, and yet, there she was. What did she want and what was she doing? 

I heard someone take a step, so I took one. They took another step, and so did I. Who was walking? Was it Jasper or Abby? I knew this was it for me since there was no escaping. I should have just stood there, but what would be worse? Jasper could kill me but end my life faster. Abby? She's been out for me for a while, and I'm not sure if she wanted me to die quickly.

Throughout the game, I accepted the fact that I would die, however, at this moment I did not. I didn't want to die. I wasn't ready to die. As I did my best to run upstairs, I realized how much I didn't want to die, and that was too much for me. I sobbed as I staggered up the stairs, missing steps and banging my knee. The crying made it hard to see, not that I could much anyway. I felt like puking, but it didn't come out. The glass I had stepped on trying to get to my room was not as painful as my fate. 

Once inside my room, I slammed the door and hid under my bed sheets. I hadn't heard anyone following me, which concerned me. My sheets smelled like me. The smell brought back memories. Memories of the time my mother sat by my bed and read me books while we sipped hot cocoa. Memories of my father helping me with my homework. Memories of the times I woke up to pains in my stomach and missing teeth. So much damage had happened to me in this house that I was beyond repair. But now, as I laid here to die, I couldn't help but remember the good and remember what I had enjoyed.

My room door opened, knocking the sense out of my brain. I trembled so much that it I couldn't keep the sheets over me correctly. What does it feel like to die? What comes next? Even though I wouldn't be dead, I still wondered if the rumors about seeing a white light were true. What was true is that we think about the things we love most in life. I was thinking about my mom, and she would feel to know I'm gone. However, that thought left quick as it came. I'd be with them. A mother and father that had sacrificed their soul to the book. We'd be one sacrificed family, walking among humans wanting to sacrifice more and more.

The sheets over me were tugged, and I awaited my death. I wasn't ready to feel something sharp invade my skin, flesh, and guts. That is something someone can't prepare for. I waited for the sheets to me pulled back and for something to end my life just so I can live again, but in the wrong way.

The sheets finally lifted, and someone's hand covered my mouth. If it was Jasper, I wished I could tell him not to worry and that it's not his fault. It really wasn't. He had to do this. He just had to. I wasn't dead, but I felt cold. I closed my eyes, only to open them seconds later to a bright light shining from someone's hand.

It wasn't Jasper. It wasn't Ryan. It was Abby.

"I'm not going to let you be a part of this family," she hissed. "I refuse for dad to love anyone else besides me. He's my dad!"

Abby pulled me out off the bed and effortlessly lifted me over her shoulder. She whispered some words and less than a second, I found myself back at my old father's house. My eyes were wide open, but it was still dark outside. Everything looked weird and to be moving like in a sinister cartoon. 

"You're letting me go?" I asked Abby.

She rolled her. "That's what it looks like, huh?" A smile crossed her face, making me lose all hope. She wasn't letting me go. "You think I'm letting you go so you can run back to daddy or try and stop us? If you had died during the game, he would have been yours. Now-" she grabbed my hand. "You're mine."

"Hey!" I yelled, trying my best to get away from her. She pulled me into the house and dragged me upstairs. I was pushed onto the floor so hard that my head hit the edge of the dresser, nearly knocking me out.

Abby was taking something out of her pocket, but I couldn't see it properly. The whole world seemed to spin. "What are you doing?" I moaned. "I know you can't kill a human unless they play the game."

Abby laughed. "But you can kill them accidentally." I heard something sweep across what sounded like sand paper. When my eyes focused, I saw the Abby had lit three matches then threw the towards me onto the floor. I tried to put out the small fire, but my body paralyzed. I couldn't move. 

Abby walked over me. "You know what's the worst part about dying?" She asked. 

I couldn't answer.

All of a sudden, she formed into someone else. Someone I knew. Someone who I had used to love. She turned into my father. "When you die, Violet. I want you to believe that your father did this. I will erase the last five minutes of your memory just so you will think that your father ended your life. I want you to take that to the grave for me, okay?"

That was wrong. Even though the flames were forming around me and I would die soon, I wanted to remember that Abby had killed me. Not my father. I didn't want to take that to the grave. Abby closed the door behind me, leaving me paralyzed. I kept telling myself that it was Abby. It was Abby. It was Abby.

It was Abby. It was Abby. It was-

I laid there, on the floor while it got hotter and the flames grew bigger. How could my father do this to me? How could he have left me here to die? How could he have lied to me, promising me that I would see my mother again by sacrifice, only to kill me? To murdered me. My father had killed me and left me to die in the house he had once lived in.

Minutes passed and the flames wrapped around my hands and legs, burning me. I couldn't scream for help, or scream from the pain. It had hurt so much, taking its time to burn my skin, to scorch my flesh, to dry my blood, and to erase me from the face of the Earth. I would die there, and no one would find my bones and know it was me, not even my mother. I was born to die and in the worst way. The flames grew closer to my eyes, and as the last breaths I had slowed down, I accepted the fact that I was going to die. No one was going to save me.

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