No Way Out

Chapter 4: Times Up

Chapter 4: Times Up

French’s P.O.V.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo echoing the dread that filled the room. Third task. Just the third, and already I was drenched, each bead of sweat a tiny evidence to the sheer terror gripping me. I chewed on my bottom lip, the metallic tang of blood a familiar comfort in this nightmare, as we waited for the Master's next announcement.

“…number 11.”

Ally.

All eyes snapped to her. I could see the fear, stark and raw, swimming in her usually bright eyes. She looked at us, pleading, a silent question hanging in the air.

"Kaya mo 'yan Ally. Be strong,” I whispered, barely audible above the pounding of my own heart, willing her to find some reserve of strength.

The silence pressed down, suffocating. I heard Celestria, ever the firebrand, let out a low, frustrated curse. Then the speaker crackled again, that infernal sound that preceded every new wave of horror.

“Simon says, pull the earings of player number…”

The pause was agonizing, drawn out to an unbearable length. My breath hitched. I could practically feel everyone holding their breath, hanging on the Master's every syllable.

“…number 08.”

The ground seemed to drop out from under me. Numbness spread through my limbs, rendering me immobile. My own number. Eight. Did I hear it right? Number eight. My number. French.

The piercing shriek of the timer sliced through the silence, a starting gun for my own personal hell.

“Ally, gumalaw ka na riyan,” Reixel snapped, her voice sharper than usual, laced with a desperate urgency.

“A-anong gagawin ko? Hindi ko kaya,” Ally stammered, her voice trembling, tears already welling up. We all knew what would happen if she failed. Punishment. And considering what we'd already endured, the thought of it sent a fresh wave of nausea through me.

“Ally do it now!”

The words burst out of me, sharper, louder, than I intended. I hadn't planned to speak, I hadn't even thought about it. My own ears rang with the unexpected force of my voice. Everyone turned to me, faced a mixture of shock and confusion. I didn't know why I'd said it, but now I had to stand by it.

“Please, gawin mo na. Nasasayang ang oras,” I insisted, forcing a note of calm into my voice that I certainly didn't feel. I had to be strong, for her.

Realization dawned on Ally's face. She rushed to the table, her movements jerky and uncoordinated, frantically searching for something, anything, to accomplish the horrific task. Her fingers brushed against a scalpel, a rusty pair of scissors, before finally settling on a pair of pliers.

She stared at them, her face contorted with disgust and fear. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, she approached me.

“R-ready?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, choked with sobs. I could see the tears streaming down her face, blurring her already wavering vision.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat almost choking me. I nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement. Bahala na 'to. This was it. I closed my eyes, bracing myself.

I felt Ally's trembling hand cup on the side of my face. Her fingers were cold, clammy against my skin. Then, the unmistakable pressure of metal against my earlobe. It was surprisingly gentle, but the anticipation alone was sending shivers down my spine. I waited. Nothing. A faint whimpering sound escaped Ally's lips.