A/N: Welcome. This is an audience participation fiction, too. Review, telling me who you want to die next, thus deciding their fate. Twisted, eh? Well, that's the game. But if you wish, you could review telling me who you want to survive. But remember who the real controller is. Me. Ready to play?
Note: Every chapter will be in first person POV, but from a different person's perspective. The thing is, you have to guess who it is.
It's probably the easiest to be the first one.
One.
I got a water bottle out of the freezer, taking a long swig.
Buzz. Buzz.
"Hello?" I say, opening up the phone.
No answer.
"Hello?" I say again, dumbly. Damn telemarketers.
No answer.
I flip the phone shut, tossing it onto the couch.
My computer pings, and I pull up an email.
Dear glee-clubbers-
It has come to my attention that Regionals is coming up, and we need to plan accordingly. I think everyone should come to my house this Saturday, and-
I press 'delete'.I doubt Miss Berry would notice if I didn't show up. It's not like anyone cared how my voice sounded like.My dog starts growling at the door, scratching and gruffing. I smack her nose lightly. A small terrier can't hurt anyone. I open the door, and see the mailvan speeding away. Mail's here. I take the wad of bills and catalogs, dumping it out onto the kitchen table. I quickly flip through it. Bill. Bill. Advertisement. Army recruitment. No way would they want a dancer in the army. Bill. Then.
An Eight of Clubs catches my eye in the pile. That's all it is. A playing card. I hold it in between my fingers. Cool. I turn it over, and see a word hastily written on the back.
FIRST
I think it's an advertisement for some casino, so I toss it back into the pile.
The clock ticks, indicating the time.
Four o'clock.
Time for dance class.
I take my bag, heading out the door, closing it behind me.
The air breezes past my arms, as I head to the bus stop.
Buzzzzz.
New text.
From: Matt (4:03PM)
Hey dude, I know ur busy with dance and stuff, but i think we shld hang out on fri. Havnt seen u in 4eva.
I text back a quick 'sure', as I get onto the bus. The Lima Transport System has seen far better days. The seats have been chipped away and trash litters the floor. I sit next to someone wearing a black hoodie, covering their face. I can't tell if it's a man or woman. I don't say a word. Just watch the incredibly small town of Lima, Ohio roll by.
From: Matt (4:12PM)
So how's McKinley? Everything going smoothly?
The bus jerks to a stop before I can reply. I get off first, knowing I'm late.
The studio is still a block away, so I have to walk by old buildings and alleyways.
Then.
A hand is placed on my shoulder, pulling me back.
Lips are in my ear, speaking.
"Don't want you to start the fun?" the voice says. It's a twisted whisper, sneaking into my brain, ricocheting. Then I'm pushed into an alleyway, back grazing the hard ground. "You're going to die in an alleyway. How cliché. But I needed something ssscary to make the others paranoid."
The dark figure approaches me, steps echoing.
A knife pushes my chin up to the face.
"Did you get the card? FIRST. It's actually lucky, you know. Now you won't have to watch your friends die."
I don't speak, a hand choking my throat.
I can hear my heart pound in my ears.
Oh, god.
The knife is raised.
The killer starts singing softly.
"Help I'm alive and my heart keeps beating like a hammer..."
Black.
From: Matt(6:23PM)
...Mike? You there?
