The Mafia | An Original Horror Story

Chapter 11: Walls of Death

Fearfully I waited on the blood stained carpet as the old man sinisterly grinned in delight at everyone in the room.

As I my eyes roamed and read everyone's face, all I saw was guilt and regret. Guilt for the lives of loved ones and strangers that they have taken. Regret for even coming to this malevolent place.

In the routine, the old man walked over to Adam, the first of us to ever receive the burden of the role in this next round.

However, when the old man leaned up to move onto Katrina, who was next, Adam was disappointed. Was he disappointed that he didn't get Mafia or that he got the role?

I feel like that the people that surround me in this room have grown close to me. Not in a positive way but more in experience. Like we knew each other secrets. Each others weakness. And that kind of relationship is dangerous with this game. So dangerous that you can kill or be killed for it. It's that simple. The main idea of the game. Kill or be killed.

For me, that rule did not apply. Or at least not yet. And it was inevitable that rule would be the end of me.

I fell out of my trance of thought when the old man began to shuffle down the circle of people and creaked on the weak floorboards. I looked to Katrina.

There was no sign of distress. All she did was grip her younger sister tight in her arms. And Alessia. The poor girl with damaged tears streaming down her soft skin. She wasn't even at the age of puberty and all she thought about was that she was going to die.

Next was Talia. Now that I thought of it. Talia seemed not a day older than Alessia. The only difference between the two was that she had blood on her hands. her eyes were full of curiosity. Constantly, she stroked her fingers through her short blonde hair. She was nervous. Fidgeting with her nails and peeling the ends of them off.

I watched as a few of the ends slipped their way through the floorboard and into the basement below. The basement that Kayla was rotting in.

Then there was Dani. The only one I could trust. Her half bitten finger bleeding all over her ripped jeans and pearl white shirt covered in faint words of peace and hope. But honestly, it was a load of bullcrap.

Finally, the old man had got to me and as his gnarled lips drew closer to my ears. From this proximity that he was in, all I could smell was death. And as he spoke into my ear, his static whispers rattled my ear drum. But I was too frightened to pull away.

"You're not the Mafia," he said swiftly with his words and withdrew himself from me.

The old man then scurried his way to the wall and snapped his fingers.

The light flickered off and the last words I heard were, "Happy killing."

***

I've been lying down for hours now. It's undoubtedly 5:35 and there's not much I can do. The second I make any evidence that I am not longer asleep anymore, I will be inevitably dead.

The giggles that filled the room shook me to the core. Like creeping spiders crawling up me and into my shivering ears.

"Listen," the devilish whisper that came from the shadows in front of me.

As I waited there with chilling fear of what was to come, I waited and listened.

"I'm dead," muffled cries came from the unknown abyss closet.

"It's all your fault," echoing calls came from all around me.

I crinkled my nose in a snarl of the stench of madness and depression that filled the room. The psychotic laughs mocked me.

All this death. All this suffering was beginning to drive me insane. But I knew if I listened to what the call wanted from me, I would turn out the way that Kayla and Jason were. Monsters.

Disgusted with the blood that dripped from my mouth and lined every curve of my body, I felt damaged. I knew I was alone in this room but my conscience told me different.

Getting to my weak feet, I struggled to adjust my eyes to sinister darkness that stretched around me. The only light being the faint moon that peered itself through the rustic stained blood boards that were bolted across the cracked and scratched window. And in some of the scratches poked through rotting fingernails of past struggle for escape. But for me, I did not try. Hope was lost and dead inside of the hollow corpse I call my own. Although I was not dead, all the dead I have seen had made it so.

What was I doing? Feeling bad for myself. Did I deserve any of this?

Walking with a limp to the door of the room that I stood in, I tried the gnarled knob to see it close. I seemed to be safe, for now.

I only fear for Dani who I'd lost in the panic of the newly selected 'Mafia'. How long before I would realize that only escape from the hellish game was to die. To give up. To rot away along with the other poor unfortunate souls that lined the walls of this house. Of this room.

The hall outside was quiet and still. No sound but the creaking footsteps of my soon to be believed killer.

Curiosity began to fill the room as I scoured my eyes around the room, searching for out of this murder house. But if had to sure come away. Was I to leave Dani? Would her cries and the cries of my fallen friend haunt me for the rest of days?

Would I ever see Sammy again?

At this point, I began to not even care.

As my bloody fingers stretched there way through the crease in the room. I began to become more and weaker from the blood that left my skin with beating moment that I spent waisting my life. I ached and fell to the ground to squeeze the hole in my leg.

Crawling around the room and seeking a way to ease the ever growing pain. To my very low current luck, I find a coil of wire that poked its way through the old and ragged leopard print chair. A chair with faded colors and showed that this house in its early days must have been a clear figure of acquit attire.

Plucking the string from its imprisonment, I watched every bit of cotton poured out from the fabric that held the piece of furniture together.

Like me.

My hands began to shake as I slipped the wire between my teeth to pinch my skin together to where it split apart. Blood started to bubble it was and drip done my shivering legs. My pale hands reached its way to the wounded leg. Piercing the tip of the coil into my hurting skin, I stopped. Turning away from the sight of blood that I have recently seen too much, I began to think.

Was I to die by daybreak?

Using the only strength that I was left with, I ripped the disintegrated cloth from its source and stuffed my scarred mouth with it. I felt tears began to run down my face as I continue to loop the coiled and unsanitized wire through my scarlet-coated leg. I screamed but cloth muffled into a whimper.

There was no one who could ever hear the pain besides the 'walls of death' that surrounded me.

As I bit the access string and knotted together, the cloth sogged its way out of my mouth. Using my trembling hands to wipe away the tears and leaving a smear of blood in its place, I struggled to my feet again. But I soon became frustrated with the constant waves of pain that coursed through my mutilated body.

My once long wavy rich auburn hair drooped down my defeated face in roped groups of red. Slowly combing my fingers through it, I began to pick out the bits of flesh.

I nearly jumped from my position when the lights flickered on.