CreepyPasta

Trust

play out.

"Hey," I say, "you know what's going on here?"

"No! I went to sleep and woke up tied to a fucking chair with some asshole in front of me who's apparently in the same fucking situation!"

Stupid question I suppose, "Can you move anything besides your eyes and mouth?"

He tries again. "Just my fingers and toes, damn much that can do."

"Ok," I sigh, "looks like we're stuck here until whoever did this decides to do what they're doing. What's your name?"

"Mike."

"I'm Chuck." I'm curious about this man. Why is he here with me? "Can you think of any reason you're here? Did you hurt anyone? Steal from anyone? Anything?"

"Man, I've never done anything," he cries, "couple speeding tickets, that's it. You think someone would at least tell you why they kidnapped you."

"I can't think of anything either," I say truthfully.

I look at him, try to think if I know him, or if I had even ever seen him before today. I hadn't. "Any chance you recognize me?"

"Don't think so."

"Alright, we're two innocent strangers. I guess it's just random. Pick the first person they happen to get, but for what?"

I look around as much as I can. The ceiling is high and I can't see any walls. There is a spotlight high over head illuminating us. All my fingers can feel are the edges of the armrest. I can't hear anything beyond my own breathing and the attempted movements of my newfound companion. What could have brought us here? Is this torture? Is there some psychotic force that brought us together? Whatever the answer is, I can feel in my gut that someone's going to die. Hopefully not me.

"Shit! I just cut myself, I think! Something hard and sharp is around my right arm."

I look back down at him; it's a strain to keep my eyes pointed down so far. He's staring at me, panicking, mouth wide open, and panting. I move my arms as much as I can.

"It feels like straps or something are holding down my left arm and metal bands are around my right."

"What the hell? What are they going to..."

A loud screech. Deafening sounds. Speakers crackle. A booming voice.

"Good evening gentlemen. As you have no doubt discovered, you have been restrained and are now part of our little game. Between you is a table. On this table is a gun. In some time the restraints on your right arms will be released. The first to get the gun and kill the other will win their own life. An associate will put you to sleep and you will be released, a free man. The other will be disposed of and you will never be bothered again. If neither of you shoot the gun within five minutes of your restraints being released, a lethal electric current will be sent through your chairs killing you both, quite painfully in fact. It's better for one to live than both to die."

Silence. We wait for the restraint to be released. It doesn't come.

"What the fuck, Chuck?"

"I guess we'll have to wait. Maybe they want us to get to know the man we have to kill."

"I don't want to kill anyone! But I sure as hell don't want to die!"

I yelled, "Well, would you rather kill me or die!? That's the important question! Is your life worth the death of someone else? Could you live your life knowing that you murdered someone just so you can live?"

"No..." he said "I'd rather die than kill someone, but I'd rather live and not kill even more!"

"I feel the same, Mike, but unless you think we could untie ourselves in five minutes with only one hand..."