The Figure: A Rhett and Link Horror Story

An Incomplete Escape Plan

Monday, March 19, 2018
    It was 11:00 in the morning, but the boys didn't know that.

   Since Link had been taken from him by the Figure, Rhett hadn't felt like doing anything. Not even moving. In those past three days since Link was taken from him, moving had seemed like an impossible task. Rhett had just sat there with his knees hugged close to him, wallowing in his sorrows and questions. He felt that he had gotten Link back just to lose him to the figure again.

   Think about it: Link had woken up that past Wednesday, and Rhett had gotten to talk to him over the course of the next couple of days. Therefore, he'd gotten Link back. Back from that unconscious state that he had been in for a while. Then, that Friday after he'd woken up, Rhett had lost him to the figure once again.

   Over the past three days without Link, Rhett had discovered that singing was an amazing way to deal with his loneliness. Every now and then, he would start singing a verse and a chorus of a Merle Haggard song, the bridge of a praise and worship song, or just simply hum. He had even made up a tune of his own, also.

   Sometimes, he would see the figure staring down at him, or standing in a corner of the dark, dark room, but it would never say anything to him. He guessed that it didn't want to give away where it had put Link. It would come, and then disappear. At first, it would make Rhett jump; after a while he'd gotten used to it. But.... the figure hadn't been in the dark, dark room where Rhett was since the day before.

   So, Rhett James McLaughlin, at 11:00 o'clock on that Monday morning, decided that he was going to do something. Something that he would have to risk his life to carry out. He was going to try to escape. He was going to try to get out of that dark and lonely room.... but how? How could he possibly accomplish doing it without the figure noticing him, or worse, killing him?

   He stood up, and realized that he hadn't stood in the past few days. Not since Link was dragged away from him. He was achy, bruised, and his wrist still hurt. Sure, it was healing and the bones were mending themselves back together, but it still was painful to move it. It was still wrapped in the denim that he had torn off of his jeans. He started pacing the floor and thinking. "Well, I know by now that my wife, or Link's wife.... or both... has sent out a search party to come and look for Link and I. I just know it", he started mumbling to himself.... not too loud, or the figure would hear him and ruin his escape plan.

"So... so what if I can make a signal? A signal to let the search party know where I am. I hope that there's a search party... this would be a horrible idea if there isn't one. Nah, knowing Jessie and Christy, they've probably sent out multiple", he crossed his arms and chuckled.

   He needed to make a signal that the figure would have a hard time noticing. Rhett had no clue where he was, but if he had to guess, him and Link weren't in LA anymore... which worried him. If he made a signal, and they were not in LA, then would his signal for help be discovered by the search party? He really hoped that the police were looking also. "What if I slip a letter under the front door, and hope that someone walks by... oh, wait, that wouldn't work. Dang it. I don't have a pencil or paper", he was mumbling to himself again. He looked quickly to see if the Figure was standing in the room listening to Rhett's one-way conversation. Nope. He was all clear.

   "Or maybe.... I could do something to the walls... no... I've got it!", he semi-whispered. He was getting louder. "The door....", he was thinking of a way to create a signal. His lips curled into a smile; he had an idea. He needed to go about his idea very quietly, or else the Figure would hear him. "There's no quiet way to punch... here goes nothin", he shook his head. This was the moment. The moment where everything, including his life, could go away.... or he could succeed.

   He started pounding his fist into the metal door (not the fist with the broken wrist... the other fist). He wasn't trying to punch a hole that he could climb out of. That would be too noticeable by the Figure. He was trying to repetitively punch the door, over and over again, until he had indented the word "help" into it. He punched the door again and again. He was starting to see progress. His hand was really starting to hurt, and he was making so much noise, but there was no turning back now. This may be his only chance.

H

   He moved over and started punch the next letter into the door. He felt one of his knuckles split... not just the skin, but the bone, too. He stopped punching and looked at his broken knuckle. It was getting more and more swollen by the second, and it had turned a deep shade of rose. He needed to keep going. He started punching the door again, and when he did, he felt the sharpest, most unpleasant pain run from that knuckle,  all the way up the finger-his middle finger-from which the broken knuckle was attached to. He started punching again. "GAAAAAAHHHHH!", he screamed in pain and determination. A tear escaped from his eye. He didn't care if the Figure heard him anymore.

E

   With every punch, his hand got more and more swollen, and that knuckle became almost unbearable. He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and kept punching. He was getting louder and louder, and someone seemed to notice.