Another work from my writing class, but it's a horror story this time!!!!
The clicking sound of a camera followed by a blinding flash stirred Clara from her sound sleep. Manic laughter roared through the otherwise silent air as thousands of voices cackled and screamed their delight. A pulling sensation ripped and tugged at the skin of her wrists. Still in a sleepy daze, Clara looked up to see both of her hands bound and held in place by cuffs and chains. She was suspended, with only the tips of her toes brushing against the wet floor.
Pain. She was in pain. Her bones ached, her muscles had grown limp, and most of her upper body tingled as the blood rushed down to her feet. Her limbs felt heavy, the kind of heavy were she never wanted to move.
Looking around, she saw faces, so many faces, all of them smiling cheshire grins at her expense. Their eyes looked empty, expressionless, staring at Clara as she hung there in her Hello Kitty pajamas. Clara made out her reflection floating above the crowd, and she saw the lifeless pallor that took over her face. Turning her head, her reflection followed suit. She turned the other way, and her reflection did the same. She huffed a breath and watched as it condensed inches in front of her. Glass. She was surrounded, encased, in glass, like an exhibit at a museum.
Clara surveyed the room in an attempt to ease her weary mind. Wooden pallets, sheet metal, ropes, steel rafters. A warehouse, she confirmed to herself.
A sudden hush settled over the rowdy spectators, the maniacal laughter halting as fast as a pin could drop to the floor. The stomping of heavy boots on metal stairs shook the air and everything else, like a giant walking along a downtown street.
"Ladies and gentlemen," a booming voice, one that was familiar to Clara's ears, sounded, echoing to the rusted ceiling above their heads. A man, shrouded in black, appeared in her field of vision, gauging the attention of the entire crowd. "Tonight . . . the impossible happens." He gestured to Clara's limp, pale form, a slight chuckle from the audience whispering into her ears. Her stomach twisted and her heart wrenched in her chest at the sound. Tears of frustration dripped down her face. She hung her head as a wave of nausea rushed over her. She wondered briefly how many eyes were on her in that moment, how many people were smiling at her pain.
"Our young volunteer," the dark stranger standing in front of her continued, "will be put to the ultimate test." Another roar erupted from the crowd, all of them cheering at the prospect hanging in front of them. "Can she escape before she is sent to her doom? She will only have three minutes to escape before she runs out of oxygen."
The man peered through the glass, watching Clara's rapid breathing. Slowly she lifted her head, her breath hitching as the peered into the face of her fiance. Daniel. It was him, no doubt, but his eyes . . . she knew those eyes weren't his. Where was the mischief, the happiness? These eyes were as empty as the rest in the room.
"Daniel," she whispered, terrified of the wicked gleam that flashed in his eyes. Who was this man and what had he done with Daniel? She struggled against her restraints, twisting her wrists in a feeble attempt to free herself. There had to be something that she could do.
"Without further ado," Daniel, or what passed for him, glided over to a lever a few feet from Clara's glass prison. "Let's see if Clara is still afraid of water." The crowd screamed and roared as he pulled, the sound muffling Clara's thoughts. A torrent of ice cold water rushed down over Clara, beginning to fill the narrow tank.
"No!" she screamed, begging Daniel with her eyes to stop. "Please, Daniel, don't do this!" It was no use, he was gone, as if he were never there at all. The audience cheered and cheered as she squirmed and writhed, the water quickly rising, filling the glorified fish tank..
She tugged at the cuffs holding her in place as she yelled and hollered for someone, anyone to help her. The cuffs had no locks, there was no key. There was no way out. She could feel her blood trickling down from her raw wrists onto her arms, and she could see it dripping into the water staining it red. Her vision had long since gone blurry from the numerous cameras flashing in her face.
She gazed out towards the spectators, watching them clutch their stomachs and sputter from her hilarity of dying a slow, horrible death. In that moment, Clara hoped they all would choke on the own tears just like she was. Kicking at the glass, screaming for help, Clara was using all of her energy and coming up short.
The water, now up to her waist, was tinged red from the blood still flowing from her wrist. Clara felt weighted, lethargic, and she knew that there wasn't much she could do. So she screamed. She yelled and carried on until her lungs burned. She was saying words but even she couldn't understand what she was saying. Her voice was so loud she drowned out the crowd's incessant hollering, which made her feel just a little satisfied.
Clara took a final gulp of air as the water encompassed over her entire body. She had long since stopped moving, instead deciding to look into the empty eyes of every person watching her die. Even though they knew what was going into happen, they still enjoyed the sad display in front of them. Her mouth opened, sending bubbles floating upwards. Her eyes followed their path to the top, closing as the life drained from her body. Her lungs burned, her throat was raw. It's all over.
The last thing she saw before her eyes shut completely was a silver key perched on the outside of the tank, so close yet so far.
Clara jolted upwards in her bed, screaming in pain. She practically fell from her bed as she rushed into her bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before she vomited the contents of her stomach into the bowl. The bathroom light flickered to life as Daniel ran to her side. He reached to hold her hair back, but she pushed him away.
"Stay away from me," she whimpered, shudders racking her body as she cried. Fragments of her nightmare drifted from her mind, with only bits and pieces embedding themselves into her memory.
"What's wrong, baby," Daniel asked sympathetically, moving in to stroke her back. When his hand grazed her skin, she flinched but she let it linger, relishing in his warm, secure touch. She turned to him, peering cautiously into his eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw how blue they where.
"I was drowning," she whispered, almost as if she was saying it to herself. "You were there, I think."
"I would never hurt you," he promised as he held her close to him. She knew that. Deep down, Clara knew that it was all just a bad dream, but it still felt so real. The screaming, the water, her last breath of air.
Clara took a deep breath, and played with her fingers. A single tear fell to her cheek. "They all just stood there, laughing at me." She gazed up lovingly to Daniel, only to see that same empty look in his eyes as before, his smile as devious as every smile in that crowd.
