Bitch you thought it was over
Ashley POV
I hid in the attic. I stayed there for the entire time, listening to the screams and cries of my friends. I knew what was happening. I knew they were dying, struggling. I knew they would look for me. I could easily find them if I went downstairs, I'm sure. But I was not taking any chances. You see, if we found eachother, we would have to stick together. And if we stuck together, we would die. I wasn't sure how, but I knew something came out of hiding late at night by the shrieks and wails that rang out every day. I wouldn't die if everyone thought I was dead. I wouldn't die if the thing, whatever it was that came out at night thought I was dead.
It was a pretty heartless plan to be honest, but genius all the more.
I survived this long with it, although my thoughts dragged me to the floor like an overpowering gravity, forcing me flat. My thought were terrible. They were of 'what the fuck is happening to my friends'. They were of 'what the fuck is happening to my lover, Melanie.' They were of 'what the fuck is happening to me'.
I was losing myself up here. Alone. No food, no sleep. I was losing myself knowing what I was doing to the only people I actually care about. I was losing everything. Everyone.
The silence at this hour was killing me softly. There wasn't a sound from below me. I didn't hear the yells on the floor below the floor under my stomach.
I didn't even hear my own salt water tears hit the ground beneath my face. I usually did, if I wanted too.
The dehydration was aching behind my forehead. The hunger punched me in the gut like we were battling inside of a boxing ring, and the hunger had the upper hand. The lack of sleep pried at my eyelids and weighed me down like a thousand pound dumbbell.
I needed to go downstairs. I needed to take a breath. A fresh one. The dust blanketed everything up here, rising and falling in rhythm as my breath projected onto the ground. The dust filled my lungs with every inhale. Threading through my nerves and slowly killing me.
The pain was overwhelming.
I stood up. It had been a while since I had done that.
My legs creaked and snapped at the knees.
I stumbled to the quiet staircase and made my way down in a melancholic fear of what I would find.
Death.
I found death.
A strange man layed in a heap on the floor. He wore a hot pink suit and a knife protruded from his throat.
Dang.
And there was Tyler.
And there was Josh.
And there was Melanie.
And there, I assumed, was Brendon and Ryan, bodies skewed in another wing of the house.
And there was me, standing and staring.
I was numb. I don't know why I didn't feel any emotions, but I didn't. And it felt like I couldn't.
I needed out.
Blood everywhere.
Door was locked.
Fuck, how do I get out.
What is the first thing that comes to mind...
Burn.
Of course. The answer was simple.
Burn.
WHY DIDNT I THINK OF THIS BEFORE!
Burn.
