A/N I haven't written anything in like six months, so this might not be that great. Thought I'd give this idea a go, and I have no idea on where it's going yet, so let me know if you have any suggestions. I hope you enjoy it.
"How surely are the dead beyond death. Death is what the living carry with them. A state of dread, like some uncanny foretaste of a bitter memory. But the dead do not remember and nothingness is not a curse. Far from it."
CORMAC MCCARTHY, Suttree
"Fear not death, for the sooner we die, the longer we shall be immortal."
Hide & Seek
She crouched in the darkness. Her once yellow t-shirt rode up on her waist, exposing pale, sallow skin. Sweat trickled down her neck and her hair stuck uncomfortably against her skin. She longed to wipe away the droplets but her tightly bound wrists prevented any such action. She didn't move. She didn't dare: she couldn't see a thing. Melted make-up was running into her eyes, obscuring her vision. She blinked with some difficulty and waited. Waited for it all to come swimming back to her, the reason she was here, how she had gotten here. So far, nothing.
Tears threatened to spill but this only resolved her to blink harder. She couldn't breath as it was, with tape stuck firmly over her mouth. She'd surely suffocate if she cried. Gradually, and to her overwhelming relief, her sight returned as her eyes became accustomed to the gloom which shrouded her apparent prison. The room was void of any furniture, with the exception of the thin, damp mattress she was currently occupying.
A humorless laugh escaped her lips as she considered her predicament; death would either come from suffocation or pneumonia. Death by mattress - how glamorous. The wall to her left was patterned by some sort of dark-rimmed shape, that may once have resembled flowers but had long since bled into a dark flurry. A small window allowed a small portion of moonlight to filter into the room and she was thankful for the small comfort it provided. As she travelled its length, she knew why her mind had subconsciously blocked it out, the moonlight drew attention to the wall furthest from her sight and she strained to make out the small Polaroids littering its face.
Cloudy-eyed and slack-jawed faces looked back at her. She recoiled, all the faces had one thing in common. They all stared out, unseeing. They were all dead.
Was she to end up like them? A nameless face, on a random wall, unloved and unwanted, forgotten. Fear swallowed her up and she opened her mouth to scream, forgetting her earlier thoughts of suffocation. Who were these women? Why was she here? What sort of sick person did this? Why did they do this? Why? Why? Why?
Maybe it was her luck, maybe it was her misfortune, but in any case she heard the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock. They would kill her, just like all the others, no reason, no rhyme.
The door. She hadn't noticed it before, but it must have been how she had gotten in here. She stared at it, hoping to regain some sort of recognition from it, some sort of clue as to how she was here. It didn't help; her eyes only hurt more as they focused on the dark space.
She choked on her sobs, as a figure pushed the door aside carelessly, stepping over the threshold and standing still for a moment to appraise her. He clicked his teeth, but in irritation or approval, she didn't know. She assumed them to be a man, judging by their stature and build. He moved confidently but slowly, deftly avoiding walking through the stream of moonlight, instead moving to her through the longer route.
A rough hand pulled the tape from her mouth and she sobbed freely, no longer hindered. He waited patiently for her cries to subside, whistling tunelessly, at ease with the situation.
Once her heart had calmed to as still as it would get tonight, he produced a knife from his pocket, his eyes on hers the entire time. Her breath hitched and she squeezed her eyes shut, her mind chanting, die, just like all the others, die. She would surely die, just like all the others, nothing special.
He did not, to her surprise, slit her throat. Instead, he reached down to her wrists and sliced to the knot, thus releasing her hands. She stared up at him, unable to distinguish his features, as he was careful to remain in the shadows. Try as she might, she couldn't remember his profile, his face meant nothing to her. So why had he targeted her? Why had he let her go? So many unanswered questions.
He stood, calmly brushing the dirt from his clothes. For the first time since entering the room, he spoke. At least, she figured he was. She could see his lips moving but she couldn't hear anything. Scared he would hurt her if he thought she was ignoring him, she leaned closer, listening with increasing desperation. Realising she was unable to hear him, he leant down to whisper into her ear:
"Now you hide." She looked up into his eyes, fear coursing through her veins once again. He allowed a smile to cross his features, and as his lips pulled back, she could have sworn his teeth glinted, "and I seek."
