Chapter Eight:
"God has given you one face, and you make yourself another." -William Shakespeare, Hamlet.
I hear him come in, descending down the stairs, each step making a louder sound than the last one. I refuse to open my eyes- well, eye. I don't think I'll ever get used to the only having one eye thing. It's such a change from everything, though I didn't expect it to be. I pray Josh doesn't try to pick a fight with the man again. I doubt Josh will get out of being screwed over more than once. He got lucky the first time, but twice? I really doubt it.
I wonder if we're ever going to figure out why this is happening? Game pieces... That's not much of an explanation. I shiver every time I look at the pictures on the wall, seeing some bodies horribly disfigured, intestines ripped out. I see a picture with black mascara dripping down a girl's face from crying. I see a group of people at a bowling alley... What the hell? That's us. He's targeted us for that long? That was months ago, before we realized how expensive bowling really was. I stop my wandering eye and turn my attention to the man. He's walking around, a smirk on his face. "Well, it seems we had another challenge today. They responded differently, though. Very differently. I imagine that you were all thinking because one of you was safe you're all going to get out of here alive. Your friend today proved that wasn't the case. They caused one of you to die." He pauses, looking us each over in turn, relishing in the faces of terror we all have plastered on our faces.
He paces around, letting out laughter. There is a knife in his hand. "Who is it then?" He turn to Josh, his eyes wide, crazy. "Is it you? Anything to say today, Josh? You've made this game so fun, haven't you!" He holds the knife to Josh's neck. "Fight back, Josh! Come on!" Josh refuses to give him the satisfaction. He won't fight back because he's afraid. He doesn't fight back because that's letting him win. Instead, Josh just sits there. I still don't understand how there is still fire in his eyes. The light has faded from the rest of ours days ago. Maybe because he feels like he needs to protect.
The man loses interest and moves over to Jess, a wicked smile on his face. "What about you? Are you afraid to die, Jessica? Can you face my knife?" Her reaction makes much more sense to me. When the knife is held up to her neck she recoils, trying to get away from the cold metal. He laughs and runs his fingers through Jess's hair, avoiding the part that is matted with blood. "Don't cry Jessica. You're safe... for now." He brushes his fingers over where her missing ear is, causing her to cringe, half in pain, half disgust. She doesn't have fire like Josh does, but I can see a spark, a whisper of her old self coming back.
Hannah was just the opposite. I've never seen someone look so defeated. She had a look of sadness on her face that I've never seen anyone else have. She was worried about her twin. She was worried about her brother. I know out of all the Washington's, Hannah is the one that is the most in tune with everyone. She feeds off the emotions of other people, letting everyone else's strengths fill her, give her energy to get through the day, but it's also everyone else's energy that will defeat her. Obviously, in this situation, it will be the latter. She hasn't even attempted to say anything since we were mangled. I know it would be difficult for her to speak, but Hannah always had a word to put into a conversation. She didn't have that, not even at the rare moments when the rest of us spoke to one another, holding comfort. "Hannah. Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. Are you going to be my special little victim today?" She was expressionless. Her dark hair hung in an oily mess around her face. Her glasses were askew. She hadn't bothered to clean them since we got here. There are blood splatters obscuring her vision. She couldn't care less. He gets off on seeing her so sad. "Oh, Hannah. You don't need to worry. You're fine."
I look to my right. Tears are filling Ashley's eyes as she looks at me. One of us. It's her or me. The man twirls the knife around as he stands between the two of us, a menacing smile on his face. "Ashley. Matt. Matt. Ashley. Which one? Which one?" A cry escapes Ashley and the man turns to face her. "Oh, poor, poor Ashley. Are you scared?" She says nothing. "Answer me!"
She lets out a small noise. "Y-yes. I'm scared."
He continues to twirl the knife, crouching down so he's eye level with Ashley. "Why is that?" Her eyes land on the knife, before they find the maniac's eyes. "Of course." He let's out a sickening smile. "I'll you choose how I do it." She lets out a sob as he presses the knife against her neck. "Should I slice across like this, Ashley?" He puts the knife to her throat, lightly tracing a horizontal line. "Should I open the wrists and bleed them out?"
She shakes her head. "Please, don't do this!"
He picks up her foot, the one with all its toes. "Maybe I'll cut right here. The achilles? I hear the foot is basically worthless after that?" She sniffles, trying to keep her composure. It's hard to watch. "Come on, Ashley. I'm letting you choose. Should I carve out the heart?" He presses the knife to her left breast. He must know that's not the exact location anatomically. This is too much.
"L-leave her alone." I'm surprised by my voice speaking up. I know it has to be pointless.
He gives me a cruel smile. "Why the rush, Matt? She's picking out your death."
The last moments of my life are in shock. I can hear the others protesting, even Hannah. Ashley and Jessica are crying. Josh is yelling. I barley process anything until I feel him attack my achilles. I, somehow, have accepted my death. In this state of numbness I just pray, blocking out the world around me, preparing to go to whatever is ahead of me. Will I go to Heaven? I think of all my friends. I feel sorry that they have to watch this. I hope they can see the peace that is in my mind. I'm vaguely aware I'm screaming and writing in agony, but I'm not focused on the physical. I just need to escape this world. When my throat is finally split, I'm ready.
