A/N: Hi, this is Blondified (previously TheFunnySide). I had to re-upload this story because I lost my password to my old account! So, here is "Winning the Game" once again!
I wake up with a loud groan, the ache in my temples making just lifting my head difficult. I start to lift my hands to rub away the pain, keeping my eyes closed for the time being, but I am stopped by something wrapped around my wrists. Fear holds my whole body in an icy grip.
I open my eyes to find out exactly where I am, and that is when I find that my vision is absent as well. My speech seems to be gone, too, although there isn't anything impeding it. I'm simply too frightened to scream. My body is unable to move, what with it being bound to a chair, but my mind is running haywire, wondering where I am and why I am there. I shiver as several equally frightening reasons flash through my brain. I resent my overactive imagination.
My breath hitches when I hear the creak of what sounds like a large metal door opening, and I flinch when it shuts with a loud bang. The sound of dress shoes slowly coming towards me puts me on edge even more.
The noise stops in front of me and my blindfold is slowly removed. There is a man standing before me, a slight smile on his face. I would have thought him handsome, had this been another situation. He's wearing a nice, white button-down and white pants to match. His black dress shoes are the only thing that stand out. His light blonde hair is neatly combed, but his face looks a bit disheveled, like he hasn't slept much lately. I stare at him silently, observing.
He eyes me back curiously.
"Hello," he says finally. He speaks quietly, but his voice holds strength. I don't respond immediately, and I see slight irritation flicker across his features, then disappear just as quickly.
"You know, I'm getting a little tired of the quiet game," he says after a few moments of silence from me. "It's not as fun as the other games we could be playing." The words are laced with an unknown threat, but are somehow said jokingly at the same time.
I feel my own annoyance, anger, and confusion bubble to the surface, clouding over my fear. "Well, what am I supposed to say? 'Oh, hi there! Nice weather we're having'?" I ask sarcastically, my voice shaking nonetheless.
He laughs lightly. "No, I guess not. But it is rude to ignore someone. You don't want to be rude, do you?"
My brow furrows slightly at how lightly this man is speaking, like he did this all the time. He probably does, I think darkly. I just stare at him blankly. What does politeness matter? He's the one who's kidnappedme!
Suddenly my head is whipped to the left, and there is a loud crack. My cheek explodes in pain and my ear rings a little.
He slapped me.
I blink back the tears that automatically rushed to my eyes. It didn't hurt so much as it humiliated and frustrated me that I couldn't fight back.
I turn my head slowly to him, shocked and outraged. He actually looks a little sheepish.
"You wouldn't answer me. I have a very low tolerance for impolite behavior. It doesn't have to be like that, though. As long as you stay polite and respectful, things don't have to get too ugly. Okay?" He smiles politely at me, clearly waiting for me to respond. My fear finally starts to outweigh my anger, so I force myself to respond.
"Okay," I agree quietly. The man clasps his hands together, pleased. "Awesome! Then we can get started." He kneels down and moves to untie me from the chair. I watch him, confused.
He stops at only one hand, though. He reaches out his own hand. "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Paul." He continues to hold his hand out. I hesitantly take it. "And you are?" he prompts.
I swallow, preparing myself to attempt to speak civilly to a kidnapping asshole that slapped me not 2 minutes ago. "Sally."
"Nice to meet you, Sally! See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" I nod my head robotically. He nods in approval. "I apologize for any discomfort, but I'm going to have to tie you back down." I panic at these words. Paul grabs my wrist just as I try to yank it away from him. I start pulling at my bonds everywhere else on the chair, but it's getting me nowhere. I continue anyway. Paul sighs, displeased.
"You know, I thought we were getting somewhere, Sally. But you're just like the rest. All you do is try and get away, even if you know it's not gonna happen." He ties my wrist a little too tightly to the arm of the chair and gets up swiftly. He looks over behind me, slightly to my left, and a delighted smile appears on his face, replacing the scolding expression he wore just a moment before. "Oh! It looks like your friend is waking up, too!"
My friend? My chest fills with dread. How many other people has he taken? Do I know them all?
My chair is being pulled back, now. It squeaks a little as it's dragged across the white tile floor. I finally see who he is talking about. There's another girl, in a similar position as me: tied to a chair, blindfolded, and disoriented. A curtain of black hair blocks her face.
She lifts her head up, seeming panicked already. Paul moves over to her, lifting her blindfold as well. The girl looks up at him, terrified. I realize with horror that I know who this is. She goes to school with me; we're both seniors. Her name is Jean, we recently started becoming friends. I eye her with panic and dismay.
"Who are you?" she asks him, her eyes wide. "Sally? Where are we?" she asks me pleadingly.
"I don't know," I say quietly, willing her to calm down with my eyes. It doesn't work. She's still freaked out.
Paul does that stupid polite smile again. "I'm Paul. I see you and Sally already know each other. I didn't happen to catch your name."
"I'm not telling you my name, you psycho! Let me go!" Jean starts struggling in her bonds desperately. I think she might be having a panic attack. "Let me go!" she shouts. Paul grabs her hair and pulls her head back. She stops moving immediately, but terror is plainly written on her face.
"I'd like it," Paul hisses, "if you would behave. That makes it easier for everyone involved. I just got done having this discussion with our dear little Sally over there, didn't I?" The question is directed at me.
"Just… do what he says, Jean," I mumble unhappily.
"That's the spirit!" he responds cheerily. "So, that's your name, huh? Jean? It's pretty. It suits you," he adds with a wink. Jean doesn't say anything. Paul frowns. "What, I don't get a 'thank you'? Are you really so snobby as to not thank someone who just gave you a compliment?" Paul grabs one of her fingers and snaps it back. There's a "crack" and Jean lets out an ear splitting scream. I wince and turn my head away, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat.
"Thank you! THANK YOU!" she shrieks desperately. Paul lets go of her finger, still looking like he's in disbelief.
"You act like it's so difficult. Just treat me civilly and I won't hurt you...Well, that's a lie. Treat me civilly and I won't hurt you too badly." He takes a step back, facing both of us. I look at the floor. The room is silent, other than Jean's sniveling. I don't blame her. I'm pretty sure he broke her finger.
Paul breaks the silence after a few seconds. "Hey! I know what would be fun! Why don't we… play a game?" He says it like it's the best idea in the world.
"Oh, yeah, let's break out the fuckin' Monopoly board," I say cuttingly. Paul laughs.
"No, we're gonna play a fun game. I know you'll like it." He walks over to Jean and unties her hands, not being careful of her finger. She looks up at him confusedly.
"W-why are you untying me?" she asks, tears slowing a bit.
"It'd be less fun to play with you tied down, stupid." He smacks her on the back of the head none-too-gently. She glares up at him. I notice he's being significantly more violent with Jean. Paul moves over to me. He gives me a wicked grin, and I stare blankly at him.
I am now unrestrained from the chair, but now my wrists are tied behind my back. I stay seated, wary about what sort of game Paul really wants to play. I notice that he's waiting for me to stand, so I do so slowly, with minor difficulty. Jean appears to think following my lead is a good idea, and I'm glad for that. I don't want her to get hurt. I really don't.
Paul claps his hands together, smiling brightly at us. "This game is called, 'Remember, Remember.' I take it you've never played before." He looks at both of us for an answer.
"I've never heard of it," I answer honestly, giving Jean a prompting look.
"M-me neither," she chokes out, obviously trying to block out the pain in her hand.
"Awesome, I get to teach you! So, how the game works is I ask you a question, and if you get it right, then you don't get a penalty, but the other player does. But, if you get it wrong, you get a penalty. Do you understand?"
I am unconvinced. It sounds sketchy. "What are the penalties?" I ask slowly. Paul grins at me devilishly.
"There are all kinds of penalties. You'll find out soon. Before we start, I should probably call someone in to help…" He wanders toward the door, pressing what looks like an intercom button. "Hi, could you send Tubby to room 1594 please? Thank you!" Wait, is this some kind of joke? How many rooms are in… wherever we are? And who the fuck is "Tubby"?
Suddenly there's a buzz sound and the door opens. A man walks in, professionally dressed and young-looking. I assume that this is the aforementioned "Tubby". He has blonde hair, darker than Paul's, but he looks younger and a bit shy, almost. I try to watch him carefully. Although he seems harmless, I remind myself that he's working with a sicko.
"Tubby! Glad you could finally make it," he cheers, clapping the man on the back. The man jerks away from Paul's hand, looking annoyed and a bit... hurt?
"I thought you were done calling me that! It's so embarrassing when you do it in front of people, especially the players!" 'Tubby' whines. Paul gives him a slightly apologetic look, but it looks more like he's mocking him than anything.
"I'm sorry, Peter. Would it make you feel better if we bought a box of donuts later? Well, only if you share-" Peter, as I learned his name must be, punches Paul in the chest, sniffling a little.
"Shut up, Paul! You know I'm sensitive about my weight!" He sounds as if he's about to cry, I realize with shock. Jesus, I'm dealing with a sociopath and his emotionally unstable friend. I make eye contact with Jean, who shares my bewildered look.
"Alright, Tubby, calm down. Let's just play the game, OK?" he asks Peter with a grin. Peter glares at him for a moment, until Paul nudges him in the side, making Peter laugh.
"Fine," Peter agrees, laughter in his voice. He is seemingly no longer upset, and he turns to Jean and I. Paul gestures to Peter. "Jean, Sally, this is Peter. Peter, that is Jean, and that's Sally. Now that everyone's acquainted..." He motions Peter towards Jean, and I watch him, alarmed.
Just then, I hear a racket of metal hitting metal. I look over at Paul in horror. He has opened a drawer out of the wall and taken out a small, incredibly sharp looking knife.
He walks towards me. "Alrighty Sally, here's your first question: Where were you before you were taken here?" I stare at him, my mind a blank. I can't remember. I have no idea. I don't even know how long I've been here. I swallow my terror and confusion, forcing myself to search my brain. "Tick tock goes the clock, princess," Paul warns, a nasty smirk growing on his face like a disease.
I let out a shaky breath, terrified of what's to come. "I-I was at h-home-" I begin, hoping I'm at least partially correct, but I don't get to finish because the tiny knife slices a long, thin line into my abdomen. I scream in pain, unable to bear the stinging wound that is now flowing freely with blood. Tears of pain and panic leak from my eyes, against my will, and I double over slightly, trying to relieve the pain somehow without the use of my hands.
"Wrong answer," he states simply. He looks over at Jean, who is already crying, and makes some kind of motion at Peter, who shoves her backwards onto her chair from earlier.
"Tubby, ask Jeannie - I can call you Jeannie, can't I? - Anyway, ask Jeannie a question. You can pick." Peter smiles hesitantly, looking at Jean thoughtfully. He glances back at me and giggles a bit. "What's her last name?" he asks her quietly, indicating me with a nod of his head. My mouth falls open in shock. That's the easiest question he could possibly ask!
She stares up at him confusedly. "It's... Elmore," she answers hesitantly.
"Correct!" Peter approves enthusiastically. "Paul." He signals him. I gape at him, appalled and horrified. He gave her an easy question on purpose! I don't have much time to dwell on this as I am soon cut into once more, this time from the shoulder to the collarbone. I shriek in agony, finally starting to break down. Hot tears slide down my face and I let out a sob. This is the worst pain I've ever been in. I take in a deep, shuddering breath, my jaw setting.
"You did that on purpose," I manage to grind out, staring at Peter in utter hatred. Peter looks angry now.
"Jerry, did she just accuse me of cheating?" Paul shrugs, looking overdramatically befuddled.
"I don't know, Tom. You followed the rules, didn't you?" Peter nods enthusiastically. Paul smiles. "Then you have nothing to worry about. And Sally, that isn't very nice to falsely accuse someone of something without any proof. I think you should apologize."
"I think you should be the one to fucking apologize for fucking STABBING ME!" I scream out at him. I am breathing in shallow gasps, waiting for his retaliation. He doesn't react violently, like I thought he would. Instead, he does something worse.
"You know what? This gives me an idea. I have a new game to play!"