Trapped In Nowhere

The Spiderweb of justice

It is a captivating feeling to open the doors. You never know what's going on behind them. You never know whether you will die or continue to live. You never have the sure idea whether you will be faced with the harrowing choice of who may be and who may not be. You always have to be prepared for the next game to start. Life is fleeting, you have to hold it tight in your hands so as not to lose it.
When Marilyn opens the door, the answering machine starts up by itself. In front of him is a spider-web-like structure. Manuella, anna, becky, johnathan and Miley are glued to it.

"Hello everyone. I want to play a game. You don't know anything about me, but I know a lot and important things about each of you. For months you're a gang on the internet, similiar to an epidemic. You created groups, wrote posts, spread lies about your innocent victim and dragged and twisted things out of context. Your poisonous mouths may call something like this maybe 'clearing', 'self-defense' or even 'truth', I define such acts more as a narcissistic thirst for attention and an unhealthy handling of negative emotions that you get just because a person tells you what's caught inside and starts to loosen the sticky threads that weave them. 'Things change.' One of you prisoners of the ego said that yourself, but now you bite and scratch what you have protected not really that long ago. What weaklings of the word you are. Fools of your own actions and decisions. True wolves in sheep's clothing with voices of snakes. But your fake wool glows red, it's not washable blood, it's too dry. Buried, and yet for some open eyes in the outside world to see like a treasure. A test to prove how deeply the influence stings, which infects others. Great cheaters. Instead of providing people experiences as food themselves, you have tempted many to hate. You fell into a kind of spider web like helpless, stupid and blind flies. Consisting of tightly tied knits that keep you in the air. Now the hunter is the prey. You are an unstable group, the prey of fire. When the time runs out, the spider web will ignite and you will slowly burn a very painful death, filled with agony. Filled with the taste of being alive. You will feel what you really are. And you cannot deny it. The way out is the ridiculous power in your limbs. Free yourself if you can. Death is a just possibility for you, because you unconsciously wanted to force an urge in your victim to kill herself. Every action has consequences. Live or die, the choice is yours."

given are five minutes. Like an insect, they shake their arms and legs while they curse, even insulting one another, but at the same time exchanging deep, friendly words with one another. The person they demonize the most is me, Christina. When the five minutes are up, the highly sensitive, flammable ointment will set the net and victims on fire. Manson doesn't say anything, he just waits eagerly. The designer of this game said everything there is to say about it. He just nods and claps his hands enthusiastically as if he were in the cinema. Manuella is the slut that is the stockiest, after several fidgeting and tearing, she was able to loosen the chains chaotically. She falls with her stomach on the hard, cold floor. She is free. Then it clicks in Marilyn's head, and from Marilyn Manson, Marilyn falls away. Now only Manson is on the conscious surface. His amused look changes quickly like a ghost, to a lifeless cold. He's got Manuella right in his predator-like visor. She screams, gets up and runs away. Her depraved friends scream courage towards her. Manson has been around since the beginning, ever since the spider web of justice went on, chasing Manuella. "You deserve this violence!" he shouts while she's busy banging on the door and yelling for help, maybe that would help, Manson kicks in a heavy iron bar and drags it behind him. His target is Manuella. He hits her hard on the head. A large bump will appear. She falls on her knees and he doesn't give her a single one chance to understand what's happening. She crawls away. But Manson has already hit her several times.

(Manuella's p.o.v.)

My skull is booming. I think Manson beated a crack into my brain. I wish it was over, I wish this sadist had enough, so I pretend to be dead. I don't move, hold my breath. But he doesn't believe the trick. I can see the shadow of his arm, he goes for the next hit and smashes the iron bar on my back. The weight of his instrument and the force smash my spine and my stomach and clog my lungs. I gasp as if I were locked in a burning room, but the breathing is cushioned, it burns and it scratches. I feel like I'm drying out. Not enough air can reach me to keep me alive. I am gasping to survive the emergency a little longer. I want to try to escape. My "act like you dead"- plan didn't work. Before I absorbed the courage and strength to physically active again in this shock paralysis, Manson holds me down with his foot, making it even more difficult for me to escape or defend myself. Despite the pain, I roll on my stomach and pull his foot away. I won't let him beat me to a pulp. I cling to him and try to take the iron rod away from him, I spit and hit his face, I manage to poke through his eyes with my fingernails. He reacts very painfully to it. He clenches his dirty, bloody hand into a fist and hits me in the face so hard that I lose him. For a moment everything is blurry, even red, as if my eyes are bleeding. I don't know if they're really bleeding. But my nose is sure to bleed. My head, bowed down, turns in a daze. It's almost like nodding off into a faint. Suddenly I feel a violent pull on my hair, my current abuser has turned my face into the light, my aching, watery eyes see his large figure, and the fire over both of us. My friends I met on the internet are burning before my eyes. I hear their extensive screams and see charred lumps of meat fall to the floor, right at me. I scream. From fright and and from the heat. I hear Marilyn's gleeful laugh. I open my eyes again and Manson kicks me sharply in the face with the shoes he's wearing. It feels even harder than his fist. I fall backwards, now my mouth is bleeding too because I fucking bit my tongue with fear. I bit my whole mouth. I lost a tooth from his kick. I can hear Manson getting disgusted. Like a bird of prey, he claws his nails into my head and screams into my ear: "Where is Emily? I know that you know how all this works, you sneaky cunt!" He hits my head on the floor and tears out some of my hair. "You are only lying! You are such a cheater, do you seriously think when you whine "no" that I believe you? Look at me, worthless piece of dirt!" His fist hits my face again. My head now feels like a soccer ball that is used for a game. I gasp hard. "Stop your bloated acting and talk to me!" He takes my torn hair and shoves it deep into my mouth. "Swallow it! Swallow it you ugly bitch!" I am choking. He still doesn't stop, and soon vomit smeared his fingers. He pulls his sticky fingers out of my throat. He laughs as he recognizes the hair in a cocoon draped with vomit. "Haha, are you a cat? Have you puked a ball of hair in my hand? Do you know what I do with cats that misbehave?" Marilyn Manson pushes the hair and the vomit deep in my eyes. I flinch and cry. He gives me another slap on the face. This time not that hard, still painfully though. My whole skull stings like salt water. "I'll rip off their fur. You may not have fur, but skin!" He roughly grabs my neck. I tremble like a young rabbit, startled by the hunter. "But seeing you naked is absolutely as effective as the movie "the ring". I would freeze with shock, with disgust ... but for Emily, for Emily I would do that. I would die for her." His fingers pinch and pluck my skin. I'm begging, I'm begging for my life so that he doesn't skin me. "What kind of offer are you giving me?" He asks spitefully. "I-i will h-help you f-find E-emily" he laughs at me. "You? Help me ?! Trust you ?! Listen to you ?!" He keeps laughing, then unpredictable hatred and anger comes through again. "You're wasting my time!" He pushes me against the wall and shakes me like he's trying to explain something to me. "Argh! You're wasting my fuckin' time! You're doing this on purpose! It's your goal!" A rain of his beatings covers me. I am blue, gray, red, green and pale. The last thing he does is kick me in the throat. The death blow. Choking, I fall to the ground, waiting for my end, painfully.