Little Touches | O. White | Escape the Night

XV. Livin' on a Prayer

The sounds of heels clicking and creaking doors were the only ones that followed them through the corridors of the basement. The two girls were huddled up next to each other, leaning on each for support. Matt kept to himself more by standing a few feet away from them, uncomfortably shuffling and moving his hands back and forth slightly in his pockets—desperately trying to be nonchalant about it. Although, no nonchalance could block out the obviousness of his surprisingly worried glancing at them every few seconds, mainly at Sierra.

And Al appreciated him caring so much, she really did, but Al really did not need another person nervously just tapping at things. She needed one of them them to at least not be freaking out on the outside about everything before the challenge had even started yet. So, she decided, fuck it and beckoned at Matt. He arched his eyebrow in confusion, and Al sighed as she grabbed his arm and pulled him closer so that their duo became a trio.

He looked at her, questioning why she was doing this, but soon he relaxed into it.

At this point, if they were all about to (almost) die together, boundaries were the least of their issues. So, now with Sierra's hand and Matt's arm in hand, Al and the others walked further and further down the seemingly endless space ahead of them.

Then, something changed. Something hit them: the smell of dead, rotting flesh.

Al almost vomited in her mouth at the smell and before she could stop herself, she looked to her right to see, for the third time that night, Andrea. She was still just laying there, now a heap of cold, frozen eyes, gothic clothes and smeared dark red lipstick.

She forced herself to turn away from it and a sea of regret hit her. She did this. She voted her in. She is dead because of her.

The group all seemed to have the same reaction at the scene, and their grips on each other quickly tightened as they sped up their paces even more.

The quiet didn't make things any better. The silence just felt like it was going to swallow them up at any second now and made Al feel even more queasiness than she already did.

"Where are we going?" Sierra asked just a few seconds later.

The words seemed to snap Al out of her daze, reminding herself to breathe as she listened to her words.

Arthur simply didn't respond. He just kept walking forward as if it was the only thing left that he could do.

The only thing heard was Sierra's heavy breathing returning. Al glanced at Matt and soon removed her arm from his own. She walked to Sierra's other side and clasped their arms together, allowing Matt to do the same with Sierra. He gave her a few comforting pats on the shoulder and lightly squeezed her hand.

Sierra's breathing seemed to slow to a more comfortable pace at this change and Al couldn't help but have a little bit of a smile from it. At least they did something right.

But, the smile faded as they stopped at the door of the demon itself.

Arthur unlocked the door, pushing it open to reveal a dark, grayish brownish room. A lone table was set in front of them, along with a candle and two pieces of paper. At the end of the room was a closed door, and no signs were needed to know what was awaiting them beyond the door.

"What's this?" Sierra said, giving a small sniff to the air while also trying to clear her nose. A strange, yet oddly comforting smell was covering the awful odors of the basement. "Do you smell that?"