A Message to Scott Cawthon: Reimagined

Chapter Eleven

The first sensation he became aware of was a pulsating pain in his head and an aching in his neck. He dragged his eyes open and looked down at wooden floorboards beneath his feet. He presumed he had fallen asleep, because his muscles felt stiff and his eyes were bleary. He blinked a couple of times, trying to remember the last thing he did before he fell asleep, and to his surprise he found that he couldn't.

The lounge was dark, and he had to wait for his eyes to adjust. Outside, orange sunlight lit the clouded sky. It looked like the Sun would soon set. What time was it though? Why was the cabin so dark? With a groan, he straightened his back and realised that he was sitting on a chair. But if he was on a chair... why didn't he fall off it when he fell asleep? That's when he became aware of the tape around his wrists. In a sudden surge of panic, he tried to get up of the chair. He couldn't. He was tied down.

He looked around, his greenish-brown eyes darting around the shady room, trying to find some indication as to what had happened to him. There was a black substance dried up on the floor. He saw the shattered coffee table. A little black statue of an owl glinted with red. The pain in his head increased as he looked at it.

It all came rushing back to him in a series of overwhelming sights, sounds and sensations. Where is everyone else!?

He turned around as best as he could and saw them. Will was to his right, his body leaning to the side with a recently formed bruise on the left side of his forehead. Ryan was to his left; his jaw was hanging at a less than natural angle with congealed blood around his light moustache. Baz was directly behind him, so he couldn't see if there were any injuries to his friend's face or body. He could however see red marks around the sides of his neck.

Lewis was sitting against the kitchen counter. He looked like he was sleeping.

The Scotsman couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing at the moment.

Rhys shook his arms again, trying to break the tape bonds. They wouldn't move. He felt around for a tear or edge he could pull at but found nothing. He did however realise that all of his friends' wrists were tied together with the same piece of tape. That's why he couldn't stand up; they were holding him down.

"Guys?" Rhys hissed, the noise seeming to echo around the room. "Guys, wake up!" He racked his brain for any good idea. Call for help? There was no one else around the Enchanted Village; they were alone. Call for Lewis? It was clear that epileptic fit or whatever it was had damaged his brain in some way... or maybe given him some sort of memory loss? Perhaps it was temporary. Of course, it's temporary... Perhaps he could help Lewis. You already tried though... What if Lewis still wanted to hurt them? No. He didn't want that. It wasn't him. He wasn't doing this on purpose. He quickly stopped thinking about it as tears started to pool in the corners of his eyes.

In a panic, he came to the best conclusion he possibly could: shake around like a mad man until someone else woke up. He kicked his legs against the floor and the chair he sat on, twisted and turned his hands, elbowing Ryan and Will in their shoulders. Neither one of them woke. But Lewis did.

In the shadow, the Scotsman saw two glinting eyes snap open and look towards him. A chill ran down his spine and he shuddered. He heard Lewis's breathing quicken and saw his shadowy outline shuffle around, dragging his legs up to his chin and hugging them tightly. Rhys thought he saw Lewis rocking back and forth ever so slightly.

"I..." his youngest friend started, "how could you blame me?" He laughed involuntary. "I mean, how could you blame me, right?"

Rhys watched Lewis's figure shake. He opened his mouth and closed it, not sure what to say. "No, I don't think so," Lewis told no one in particular. "It's better, I make it better..." he started humming gleefully, giggling every now and then.