Outlast the Night

Squeeze Me, Love Me

Trager had left her alone with her arms exposed. She could run but she had no idea where Trager could be hidden or how to even escape this place. He had left out all his killing equipment to be clean by her but that was not going to happen. Star loosen the straps on her ankles enough to simply slip out of them. Her hands shaking as she was careful to make as little noise as possible. The blood and vomit coating her wheels causing them to squeak. She paused her body holding her breath. She could still hear the cries and screams of the other patients but no sounds of Trager. 

She released her right foot out and placed it on what little patch of floor she could stand on. Her other foot found blood and shifted to the right. Unconsciously, she pushed the wheelchair out from her landing on her butt with her head hitting the floor under the sink. Her teeth rattled in her skull. She gripped onto the sink pulling herself up easing her body to stand on her toes. The burn marks on her heels have subside enough for her stand comfortably. 

The table behind her held the arsenal of tools along with a small surgeon's knife. It was small enough to hide in her pocket. She tipped-toed her way to the table and grabbed hold of the knife. The path to the door was the longest she had ever made in her life. 

Her feet were hurting but she pushed through the pain to reach the door handle. She slowly twisted thanking any and every deity that he didn't lock it. She shifted her head to left to look for anything. She heard only her heart beat and the wave of the air condition. She took the chance and began to ran. Not knowing where to go she made it past two rooms with beds positioned on each side. Bed frames turned over and mattresses piled on the windows and by the doors. She jiggled each door knob she came across looking for either Waylon or Miles. She didn't dare call out their names in case Trager or some unknown killer was hunting them. 

Star had passed down another hallway watching a lighting bolt strike the front doors. The front doors! 

They were wide open with no one guarding or protecting them. She could leave. She could run straight to her car and literally drive off into the sunset. But in her heart, she knew she couldn't leave Waylon or Miles behind. She wanted to believe that they were alive and looking for her and each other. The rain was falling into the building creating a spray over her feet. She moved closer to the doors feeling the cooling relief of water on her skin. She had placed the knife in her pocket and cupped her hands together. The water gathered in her palms until she had enough to splash her face. It was cold allowing the hairs on her face to stand up. By using the longer sleeves, she cleaned her face by rubbing and mixing the water with her sweat and vomit. 

It was disgusting and satisfying at the same time. Her mind was relaxed letting her body follow suit. It was the first time she could feel how exhausted her body felt. All the running, mind games, and torture was leading her body to fall. She feel on her back with her knees bend and her arms at her side. Her brain was shutting her muscles down, her eyes were closing down; so she'll be completely vulnerable and anyone could find her body. 

Her mind shut down allowing her to fall into a uncomfortable sleep. 

You know that feeling when you wake up in a hotel or a friend's house. You are in this deep unconscious state lying on top of soft, warm blankets and your head is resting on super soft pillows. That would be a better situation for Star. Her hands and feet were bound along with her mouth tapped shut. She could hear the boil and sizzle of a pot. She looked to her right and could see a boiling pot with a human hand inside of it. An actual human hand! The taste of vomit and peaches lingering on her tongue. 

She looked at her hands and saw that it was scraps of bed sheets around her wrist. She easily twisted her hands around loosing the straps. She couldn't see anyone but a sound of a door opened up. She hoped down and crawled underneath the table. By folding her legs up to her chest and ripped the bindings from her ankles. She could hear the soft pats of footsteps. Through her watery eyes, she could make out another pair of feet with variant pants. They were dragging their feet stopping right the table Star was hiding under. 

She could smell the filth and dirt on their skin and something else. Cleaning solution. Computer cleaning solution. 

"Waylon?" She meant to call out in a whisper but her voice croaked causing her to sound louder than what she meant. 

"Star?" A mop of dirt blond hair and wild, scared eyes greeted her as he jumped down to her level. 

"Waylon!" 

"Star!" 

The blond raced crawled down to the female squeezing her in his arms. All the fear and stress as left the two victims of Hell. Once their skin touched each other as if the asylum melted away.   

"I I thought-" His voice dry and rough as he tried to speak to her. His hands gripping and touching her matted, dirty hair and shirt that was her make shift dress. 

"I know." She mirrored his action by pulling his own matted hair and shirt. 

They didn't care as they held on to each other. Death lurked in every corner of this Hell. It would only be a matter of time before Death came to them. They didn't know when or how; just soon. 

Star could feel his breath fanning over her hair and skin. His rapid heart beat drumming in her ear. A sound that Star has come to find comfort in. 

"We need to get out of here." Waylon whispered squeezing her ribs. 

"Yes we do. Not without Miles." 

Waylon wanted to question who this 'Miles' was until the roaring sound of a buzz saw shakes them both from their tiny piece of paradise.