Day 7
Brittany woke up, groaning, as her back hurt so much. Her head was also pounding, and it hurt slightly when she moved or breathed. She shifted and turned her head, so that it was no longer lying on the pillow, expecting to hit the soft mattress. However, her head met the cold wooden floor. Brittany frowned in confusion and sat up, with some effort. She rubbed her eyes to get rid of the remaining sleep in her system and shifted again so that her body was in a more comfortable position. It was at this moment that she realised that she was sleeping on the floor, in Quinn's sleeping bag to be precise. At first, she was bewildered as to why she was sleeping there, but after a few seconds of thought, everything that happened the day before came rushing back to her.
She still couldn't believe that she broke up with Santana. She needed to make things right again. As soon as possible. Yes, she did feel hurt by Santana's lack of trust in her, but Santana was just worried and scared. Still, she had no right accusing her of murder. That was just unacceptable. However, what Brittany did was not okay either. She had given Santana the silent treatment for the rest of the day, only speaking up to tell her to shut up and go away when Santana was so desperately trying to apologise to her.
Yes, Santana was the one apologising yesterday and seeking forgiveness, but will Santana forgive her? Brittany really hoped that she hadn't ruined what they had because she fell victim to her lack of emotional control. A decade of close friendship with the brunette couldn't be destroyed in the space of one day, right? Brittany didn't think so, but she was still worried. To be honest, with the way she acted the day before, she deserved to get totalled by Puck. She was a bitch. She didn't like her yesterday self at all. If she could slap herself, she would, but her left cheek still throbbed every now and then, so she refrained from doing so as she didn't want to worsen her injuries.
Brittany crawled her way out of Quinn's sleeping bag. She still didn't understand how Quinn managed to go through nearly a week of sleeping on the floor. It really kills your back! Brittany decided that Quinn would be sleeping in the bed from now on. Not that she had the right to kick her out, anyway. Brittany walked towards the bed, where Santana was curled up against Quinn's chest. It was an intimate position; Brittany had to fight herself to not feel jealous, because as much as she hated to admit it, she no longer had any claim to the brunette, and that makes her heart hurt so much. Upon closer inspection, she could see that Santana had dried tear tracks on her face, and there was a dark stain on Quinn's shirt, around the shoulder area. Santana must have cried herself to sleep last night. The bare thought of it made Brittany want to cry herself.
She walked to the other side of the bed, where Santana was at, and meekly tucked herself into the covers. She wrapped her arms around the brunette, pressing her front flush against Santana's back. Brittany was really nervous. She didn't know when Santana would wake up, but when she did, would Santana reject her? It would really break her heart if she did. Brittany could not fathom the heartbreak that Santana must have felt the whole of yesterday. She felt really guilty, making her all the more desperate to patch things up with her ex-girlfriend, and if she was lucky, become her girlfriend again. After all, she had forgiven Santana and really regretted her rash break up with her first and only love.
Santana was starting to stir when she felt arms wrap around her. She just had a pretty bad dream, and her eyes hurt from all the crying she did the night before. At first, she was confused as to who had arms wrapped around her. At first, she thought it was Quinn as it couldn't have been Brittany, as she was sleeping on the floor. However, she could see Quinn's sleeping face right in front of her, and whoever was spooning her was behind her. This meant that it could've only been one person: Brittany. The thought that it was her made her nervous. Brittany was so angry at her yesterday. Santana could not think of a reason why she would wake up to be in between her two best friends in bed. Except maybe Brittany wanted to make up with her, but Santana didn't want to get her hopes up, in case she got disappointed. She flipped so that she was facing the person behind her, and the sight of bright blue eyes that she had seen and loved a million times in her lifetime confirmed that it was Brittany.
"Morning," Brittany breathed. Santana looked into Brittany's eyes and tried to not get lost in it as she found it so enchanting, so captivating. Santana was surprised, however, to see that they were swirling with feelings that she could read like a book: this time it was fear, anxiety, nervousness.
"Hey," Santana whispered back. Their faces were so close. Santana really wanted to just lean forward and capture the blonde's lips with hers, but she was scared of getting rejected.
Brittany's eyes flickered downwards, her face of an expression that Santana perceived to be shame. "I'm really sorry," Brittany mumbled.
"Of what?" Santana questioned.
"I really hurt you yesterday. It's all I seem to do nowadays. I hurt people," Brittany said, penitent. "I'm really angry at myself for what I did to you yesterday. Now I don't expect immediate forgiveness, but I just want you to know that I regret what I did with all of my heart. I understand that you were just worried, and I shouldn't have been so stubborn, and I shouldn't have blown up on you like that, I shouldn't have –" Brittany started to ramble and Santana decided to cut her off.
"It's fine," Santana said. "What I accused you of was really out of line, and I really shouldn't doubt you. I understand why you reacted the way you did, really I do. And I'm really sorry that I got you hurt, Brittany. If I didn't make you mad, you wouldn't have encountered Puck, and you wouldn't be beaten up like that."
"It's not your fault, and no, what I did was not fine, and I am still kicking myself for the things I said yesterday. You tried to apologise, and I just told you to go away. I can't imagine how much it must have hurt for you to hear that, San. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," Brittany said reverently, voice no louder than a whisper.
"It's okay, Britt," Santana replied, and Brittany's glazed eyes flickered upwards again to meet Santana's gaze.
"I've forgiven you for your accusation yesterday, just so you know. In retrospect, I was acting really suspicious. I fully understand why you had your doubts," Brittany said.
"Just for the record, I know for a fact it's not you, Britt. I never thought it was," Santana replied.
"Yeah," Brittany's eyes flickered down again. But soon, her eyes met the brunette's. "I was just wondering, and it's perfectly fine if you say no, but, um, would you like to be my girlfriend again?" she asked nervously.
"Yes," Santana smiled in relief. "I'm so glad, Britt. You got me so scared yesterday."
"I know, and I'm so sorry," Brittany muttered in shame.
"Don't apologise anymore, Britt, I've already forgiven you," Santana answered.
Brittany looked at Santana timidly. "I really want to kiss you right now," she whispered. Santana smiled and leaned forward to kiss Brittany as a response. They kissed innocently, no tongue, for a few moments before Santana realised that Brittany was crying.
"Britt, why are you crying?" Santana asked, pulling away. She wiped a few tears away with her thumb.
"They're happy tears," Brittany replied. "I just feel so lucky that you're here, and the fact that you put up with me. I don't think I say enough how much I love you, Santana. I love you so much."
"I love you too, Britt," Santana whispered back sincerely before locking their lips again. Their kisses became more passionate and fervent, and soon they were making guttural moans into each other's mouths.
Quinn smirked as she heard the smacking and slapping sounds of lips upon another right next to her. She had heard the whole exchange. While she found it all really sweet and endearing and she was really happy that her best friends made up with each other, she felt wistful that she may never find the chance to find love. The thought really scared her, so she had been praying every night for whichever god that would listen that she made it out alive. But, judging by the rapidly decreasing population in the house, it was looking more and more unlikely with each passing night. When would she be next? Quinn tried really hard not to be scared. If she was living the last days of her life, she didn't want to live them in fear. She guessed that spending them with her best friends wouldn't be that bad. Although she would never experience the tortuous experience of love, and the amount of happiness that it would bring along with it.
Quinn's train of thought was broken by harsh rapping on the door. The girls next to her stopped their intimate kissing as well, straining their ears to see if the sound would come again.
The harsh knocking happened again.
"Should we open the door?" Brittany whispered.
"Who could it be?" Santana mumbled.
"Let me in please!" the voice from outside the door called. It sounded hysterical. If Brittany had to guess, it was Mike, though he was generally quite composed and calm so Brittany wasn't so sure anymore.
"I think it's Mike," Brittany said. "Should we let him in?"
"Can we trust him?" Quinn asked dubiously.
"Yeah, he's a good guy, I trust him," Brittany replied. She looked to the two girls for permission.
"Yeah, okay, open the door," Quinn said. Santana nodded. Brittany walked over and unlocked the door. As soon as it was open, Mike rushed into the room.
"Close the door please," he gasped, face flushed and stricken. Brittany closed the door and locked it again.
"What's wrong Mikey?" Brittany asked. "I don't think I've ever seen you cry before."
"Tina is dead," he wept. "She got killed in our room. The killer knew her night shifts, they must have. Only Mercedes and I knew the shifts. That means that it must be… Mercedes."
"Wait, hold up," Santana stood up. "You think it's Mercedes?" Mike nodded. "Huh. I guess that makes some sense. Did you see Mercedes yesterday? She was scary crazy. She directed all the suspicion to Britt because it was her. I think you're onto something here Mike."
"Also, the fact that Tina was killed in our room meant that someone from inside our room killed her. The defence in our room is impenetrable! We locked the door, secured the handle so it wouldn't turn and put an armchair behind it. Plus we had shifts! The killer had no chance," Mike explained.
"Well," Quinn spoke up. "You say it is Mercedes because she is in your group, Mike. But you are also in Tina's group. You were in the room when she was killed. How did you not hear anything? It could've been you."
"Shut up Quinn," Brittany snarled. "Why would Mike kill his girlfriend? Why would Mike kill anyone at all?"
"I'm just making a point," Quinn shrugged. "Got to keep our eyes open to all possibilities."
"No, it's not me," Mike sighed. "I would never do such a thing. I loved her so much. I would never kill her."
"There you go, Quinn," Brittany scowled. "However, I don't think we should jump to conclusions that quickly yet. You said that Tina was killed in your room, right? Was the door unlocked?"
"I think it was," Mike replied thoughtfully. "Also the armchair was put to the side, so the door was completely exposed."
"Well, that could mean two things," Brittany deducted. "Either Mercedes killed her and removed all security in your room to divert suspicion to herself, or it actually was someone else who tried to break in and Tina was naïve enough to open the door and tackle the killer herself." Brittany thought for a moment more, then asked. "Where is the knife that you took from us?"
"I've got it right now," Mike responded, holding up the knife that was hiding beneath his trousers. "But it was wedged into the wall just behind the entrance to our room. I think it was thrown from inside the room."
"Hmm," Brittany pondered. "That means that either Tina threw the knife as an attempt to kill the murderer, or Mercedes planted it there as a decoy. I'd say we keep our eyes open to all possibilities. I don't think it's you, Mike. It's more likely to be Mercedes because Tina is smart and would never open the door, but it could also be someone else, like Puck or Sam."
"Yeah, you make a good point," Mike said. "I've never felt so angry and determined to get the killer until now. They won't get away with it," he continued, determined.
"Yeah, maybe we could work it out together," Brittany suggested. "I think Puck and Sam are looking really fishy. You guys haven't managed to get into their room yet, who knows what they're doing in there. Maybe they're accomplices."
"Maybe," Mike agreed hesitantly. "But I still don't trust Mercedes. I've left the group."
Brittany's face lit up. "Really? That's so great! You could join our group! We need brains in here!"
"Wait a second," Quinn shouted before Mike could answer. "We are the Unholy Trinity. Not the Awesome Foursome or whatever we will become if Mike joins us. We are not accepting another member."
"Why not?" Brittany pouted. "Mike will be really useful for us. He could help us figure out an escape."
"No," Quinn said firmly. "For all we know, this could be a trap. Mike has a knife with him. He could just cut us open right now and we can't do anything about it."
"He's not going to do that, Quinn," Brittany frowned.
"I don't trust him. I'm sorry Mike, but you're not welcome here. If you're here, I wouldn't be able to sleep at night," Quinn said adamantly.
"I actually agree with Quinn," Santana started hesitantly. "I'm sorry Britt, but I don't really want anyone else staying in our room. I'm not comfortable with it."
Brittany bowed her head and sighed. "I'm sorry Mikey. I really want you to join us, but they don't want you to," she said despondently.
"No, it's perfectly fine. I'll be fine, I'll sleep in Sam's old room or something. That one has a lock in it as well," Mike replied. By now he had calmed down and while his eyes were still slightly puffy, he had stopped crying. Maybe he had come to accept that he had lost Tina?
A lightbulb lit up in Brittany's head. "I'll join you, Mike. I'll keep you company, and no one will be alone, except for Mercedes I guess, but I don't like her anymore after yesterday so I don't care."
"No!" Santana nearly yelled. "Britt, you are not going out there with Mike."
"I can," Brittany replied, frowning. "If I want to, Santana. I am allowed to make decisions for myself, too."
"I just want to keep you safe, Britt. If you die out there, I will hate myself for not protecting you," Santana said.
"I don't need protection!" Brittany shouted. "I am not a five-year-old! I can take care of myself!"
"It's not the same without you, Britt," Quinn said quietly. "Will you please stay?"
"But what about Mike? I care about him too," Brittany replied hotly.
"I'll be fine," Mike said. "I'll take care of myself. Maybe I can even find an escape route. If I do, I'll come back and tell you guys, okay?"
Brittany's shoulders slumped. "You sure you don't need me with you?" she mumbled.
"I'll be fine," Mike laughed.
"Well," Brittany addressed Santana and Quinn with a scowl. "If Mike cannot stay with us, then can he at least eat with us?"
"No," Quinn said stubbornly. "We three are to stick together at all times and avoid others as much as we can."
"Quinn, I genuinely think that Mike isn't going to –" Brittany started.
"My decision is final," Quinn interrupted. Brittany looked apologetically to Mike.
"I'll be fine, Britt, thanks for trying," Mike said, rubbing Brittany's back a few times. "Don't worry about me."
"Take care," Brittany mumbled distractedly.
"I will," Mike smiled and left the room, closing the door behind him. Brittany turned to face the other girls.
"I don't understand what's wrong with you," Brittany said angrily. "Mike needs our help! You literally just sent him out to die!"
"If we take him in then we are the ones who die!" Quinn argued. Brittany rolled her eyes and scoffed. Santana made her way to Brittany's side.
"You are really smart, Britt, your detective work just then proved that. So make the smart decision here, okay? If we let Mike in we are just exposing ourselves," Santana said sincerely.
"Whatever," Brittany mumbled. "Let's go get breakfast."
"Okay, Britt. Whatever you want."
"Obviously not," Brittany scowled. "Not having Mike here is not 'whatever you want'." Santana didn't have an answer to that. Quinn got up from the bed and together they set off towards the kitchen.
"Okay, what the fuck is that?" Santana said, pointing to a huge red patch on the carpet in the lounge.
"Blood," Brittany replied monotonously. "What else could it be?"
"Who was here?" Santana frowned. "I thought that Tina died in her room."
"It was Puck," Sam came into the room, making all three of the girls jump. "I dragged him away because I didn't want to see a dead body every time I pass the lounge."
"Was he dead?" Brittany asked.
"Yeah, definitely," Sam replied, rubbing at his nose. "Probably killed by glass. I cleaned up the broken glass around it as well."
"Thanks, that's really kind of you," Brittany smiled. Sam smiled back.
"So there had been two kills in one day again?" Quinn said. There was a slight tremor in her voice, but it could've just been Brittany's imagination.
"It seems like it," Sam sighed. "The killer is on a rampage. That also means that I don't have a person to stick with anymore."
"What are you trying to imply here?" Quinn asked sceptically.
"Well, ah," Sam rubbed the back of his head, making his hair slightly messier. "I was wondering if I could stick with you guys."
Santana took a step back. "Hell no, you are not joining us."
"Hey, why not?" Sam argued, spreading his arms. "I kind of need company in what's likely to be my last days."
Santana bristled. "What you need is the least of my concerns. You are not joining us. We just rejected Mike. We are not accepting you."
Sam nodded thoughtfully. "I guess that's fair enough. I might stick with Mike then."
"Please don't," Brittany spoke up. "I think that the best thing for you to do is to stay alone. You shouldn't trust people from outside your group from now on, you don't know what they were up to the past few days. If you stay in Puck's room, you should be fine."
"You're right Britt," Sam smiled. "You're so smart." He ruffled Brittany's hair with his hand before leaving the room, sending her a wink as he left.
"Sam is fucking strange," Quinn grumbled.
"Really? He seems pretty normal to me," Brittany shrugged.
"Normal to you, maybe, because he has this stupid crush on you!" Santana said heatedly. "I really have this feeling that it's him." Brittany opened her mouth to speak, but Santana continued. "He sneaks around, always alone, no one knows what's in his room, probably killed Puck because he assaulted you yesterday, carries dead bodies out like it's nothing, I really think it's him."
"For once Santana, I whole-heartedly agree with you," Quinn seconded. "Let's get our food and get the hell away from here."
Brittany rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say," she mocked. Quinn and Santana glared at her and proceeded to go to the kitchen.
"I think that we should go search the perimeters again," Santana suggested as she and Quinn were sat on the bed, whereas Brittany was sat on a chair opposite them, all munching on some bread. "Or at least try to get some communication."
"For one thing, I don't want to search the perimeters again. We have spent four hours a few days back and found nothing. We're not going to find anything this time," Quinn said.
"Yeah, but the others may have not been looking carefully enough. Everyone was looking, meaning that the murderer was looking too. The murderer could have come across one but didn't tell any one of us," Santana replied.
"I don't think there is one," Brittany mumbled through her bread in her mouth. "We should focus on communication. If we searched the fences again and found nothing it would've been a huge waste of time."
"Yeah, but there is a lot of time on our hands," Santana frowned. "What else are we going to do?"
"Um, we could either try and communicate with the outside world, or we can say screw it and live our last days to the fullest? Or," Brittany raised a finger. "We could kill everyone else alive here, so that it's just the three of us, and we can hold out until someone comes and finds us."
"No, Brittany, that last one is not a solution," Santana chastised. "I just don't want to accept the fact that we are screwed, so your second solution is also not a solution. I guess we could try and communicate, but how are we going to do that?"
"We can't," Quinn said solemnly. "None of us even have working phones anymore. They are all out of battery. None of us have a charger."
"Yeah, but Sam does, remember? He took mine a couple of days ago," Brittany said.
"No, we're not facing Sam again, he's not safe," Santana said firmly. "Even if we got our phones working, there is no service and no internet. It won't be helpful. So I don't think that we should risk an encounter with Sam just for a plan that won't work."
"Oh, come on, Santana, Sam's not dangerous," Brittany drawled. "He saved me yesterday, remember?"
"Yeah, only because he likes you," Santana growled.
"If he really was the killer, like you strongly suggest every time, then he would've let Puck kill me," Brittany said.
"No, because he likes you, he wants to keep you alive so that you two can date. Or he stopped Puck because he wants to kill you himself," Quinn piped up.
"Fine," Brittany sighed, not wanting to argue this further. Therefore, she changed the subject. "So we don't have phones. How else are we going to get others to notice us?"
"We can't," Quinn mumbled.
"No, we can send like emergency flares or something. Like, fireworks," Santana suggested.
"Yeah, like we have these here," Quinn laughed scornfully.
"Hey, you never know," Santana scowled. "We came here for a vacation, right? For all we know, Puck could've packed fireworks for an evening show or something."
"I think you are onto something here, Santana," Brittany said. "However, even if we do find fireworks, people who see it would just think that we're celebrating. We can't send signals with it or anything."
"I know," Quinn said perking up. "We can create an explosive or some kind of incendiary grenade and set fire to the forest around us! People cannot miss a burning forest! They'll come and we'll be rescued!"
Both Brittany and Santana laughed.
"What?" Quinn asked, starting to feel self-conscious.
"Number one, how do we even make a bomb? We're high school students, not freaking weapon scientists," Santana said, still chuckling. "Number two, you want to burn an entire forest? That is so illegal it's funny. If they find out it was intentional, and they will, that is not going to end so well for us, will it? Number three, you realise fire spreads quite fast, right? Within no time, especially since we can't throw the grenade far, our house will catch fire and we are toast. So Quinn, no, I don't think that's a good idea."
"Hear hear," Brittany seconded. Quinn blushed.
"Don't have to tear me down," she mumbled. "I was just making a suggestion that I thought could work."
"The fireworks idea could work though," Brittany said. "There could be some lying around the house."
"Should we go find them now?" Santana asked.
"Yeah, why not. If we do find them, let's set them off this evening, as people are more likely to see them. If no one comes for us, at least we have had some fun setting them off," Brittany shrugged.
"Fine," Quinn said reluctantly. "I don't really want to be wandering around the house without a weapon though."
"I think there are hockey sticks downstairs in the cupboard. If anyone comes, we hit 'em, yeah? There are three of us and one of them. We'll be fine," Brittany said.
"Let's get the sticks first, then we look for fireworks," Santana said. She then wrinkled her nose. "God, that sounds so stupid."
"Nah, it doesn't."
It took them a short time to locate where the cupboard that Brittany was talking about was, as Brittany led them to the wrong cupboard first. Well, now they know where the garden tools are. Initially, Quinn just wanted to take a shovel as a weapon to carry around, but Brittany pointed out that they were quite heavy and that they would come back for them as a second choice if they don't find the sports equipment.
Soon, all three girls were equipped with a hockey stick and were scouring around the house for fireworks. It did sound like quite a stupid goal, as realistically no one would have any fireworks lying around the house, but the girls could only hope. They started in the lounge (they made sure to evade the huge red patch on the floor) and looked through each drawer and cabinet. Brittany found the charred wires from many days ago and showed it to the girls, but they weren't impressed so Brittany dejectedly put it back into the drawer.
The lounge didn't have any fireworks unsurprisingly, but Quinn insisted that they be thorough so they ended up looking in places such as under the sofa. About ten minutes later, still no fireworks.
"Hey, don't worry if we don't find any in the end," Brittany reassured Quinn, who was huffing petulantly.
"Why? Then we're screwed," Quinn frowned.
"We have only searched one room so far. Also," Brittany smirked mischievously, "I get my own fireworks when I get sweet lady kisses with Santana."
"That is so not funny," Quinn grumbled. "Not cool, Brittany."
"Hey, that's mean!" Brittany argued.
"It was kind of a bad joke, Britt," Santana cringed. "Sorry."
"Fine," Brittany mumbled. "Let's go search the dining room."
The girls got up and swiped at their clothes to clean themselves of dust. They then walked out of the lounge and made their way towards the dining room, but they never got there. Because Mercedes appeared, supposedly from the kitchen, and confronted the trio.
"Where is my knife?" she demanded. The three girls looked at each other before one of them answered.
"What do you mean, 'where is your knife'?" Santana responded harshly.
"My knife? That I got? You took it from me, didn't you? Where is it?" Mercedes said impatiently.
"No, Mercedes, we didn't take your knife," Quinn frowned. "And it isn't even yours anyway. It was ours before you took it from us."
"You expect me to believe that you didn't take it?" Mercedes snarled. "Fine. Say you're telling the truth. Who's got it?"
Quinn opened her mouth again to speak, but Brittany beat her to it. "We don't know. If you were taking care of it, you wouldn't have lost it, would you?"
"No, I didn't lose it, it was stolen. If anything, by you Britt." Mercedes' nostrils flared with anger, but even she knew that she wouldn't win this fight. It was one person against three people with hockey sticks. The odds were not in her favour. "But I have no proof," Mercedes back-tracked. She gave them all an indignant stare before turning her heels and walking briskly away.
"Yeah, that's right, fat shit, walk away!" Santana shouted after her.
"That's not necessary," Brittany admonished, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked over to Quinn. "Should we continue the search? Or should we just give up?"
"Let's keep searching," Quinn said. "It's not like we have anything better to do, right?"
"I guess."
The girls had spent a considerable amount of time scouring the whole of the ground floor. They didn't find any fireworks, or any explosives for that matter, although they did find an interesting note on the floor at the corner of the kitchen that read FREE PASS. It was handwritten, but none of the girls could recognise whose handwriting it was, so they disregarded it as one of Puck's party ideas. Quinn threw it into the trash.
It's quite funny, how far they have come in this 'vacation'. They all had hopes of a relaxing and fun time away from home, just before the inevitable heavy work during Senior year, but that was quickly dashed when people started to drop dead nightly. The fear of the serial killer was constantly on their minds, and with every passing minute, escape and rescue looked less and less likely. They have told their parents that they would be back after two weeks. It had only been one week. They had to hold out for one more week before they were supposed to return, and it would be another few days before parents started to get worried and file missing person requests, and it would take another few days for them to be found. In other words, no one was coming for them in at least two weeks, and at this rate, all but the serial killer would be dead long before then. Their only realistic chance of survival was to escape. Of course, they could try and climb the fences, but they were really tall so it was really hard, and there were spikes on top of the fences so unless they want to be impaled, scaling the fences were out of the question. There was also the hope of finding the front gate keys so that they could just open the gate and escape, but that was just wishful thinking. It could be anywhere. It would be like finding a grain of rice in a swimming pool.
The girls decided to take a break after they finished the ground floor, so they went back upstairs and into their own room. Quinn rubbed her eyes when they walked in, and jumped onto the bed, sitting on it. Santana could tell that she was upset, so she went to sit next to her. Brittany got a chair and sat down opposite them, watching.
"Come on, Quinn, all's not lost yet," Santana tried to reassure Quinn, who had a few tears dripping out of her eyes by now. "We still haven't looked upstairs."
"No," Quinn sighed. "There's no point." She flopped down so that she was now lying on the bed on her back. "It's not like I expected this house to have fireworks anyway. I need to stop living on hope and just face reality."
"And what would that reality be?" Santana enquired.
"I think that we just have to accept that we are all going to die," Quinn said, starting to sob now. "Why spend our last days finding for escape and ways to save ourselves? The killer knows what they are doing. We are doomed."
"That's negative thinking, Quinn," Brittany scolded, but Quinn paid her no mind.
"So, you know what? Screw it," Quinn said, trying to sound confident, wiping some more tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. She sat back up. "No more crying. No more fear. Let's live life to the fullest before we die, okay? I'm happy. Of course, it isn't ideal that we are all going to die young, but I can't choose two better people to spend my last days with." Quinn's tears started to fall again, faster, but she smiled through them. "I love you guys, I really do."
"Quinn," Santana said softly, not sure how to approach this. "I don't think that we should give up just yet. There are still six people alive here. And we have three in our group. We are the safest out of all of us, the others out there are all by themselves."
"No, there's no point," Quinn sighed. "Whoever is killing will get us soon, like two or three more days at best. Let's not waste a minute more of it. I want to have fun before I die."
"But Quinn, aren't you scared of dying?" Santana asked gently. Quinn sniffed a few times before starting to sob again.
"I'm terrified," she admitted. "I'm so scared of dying. What happens after? Would it just be some huge abyss? Or would there be an afterlife? Does it hurt to die? And, how will I be killed? I don't want to die like Rachel." Quinn's voice cracked a bit and she hiccupped. "I really hope that the killer has mercy on me, I really do. I'm so scared," Quinn's voice trailed off as a whisper towards the end before her hands desperately tried to wipe away the tears that were starting to cascade down her cheeks. "I don't want to die, Santana. I don't want to die," Quinn whispered before breaking off into sobs.
"Then we shouldn't give up," Santana said defiantly, rubbing Quinn's back. "None of us want to die. The will to survive will carry us to the end, I promise. We'll start sleeping in shifts. If anything happens, wake us all up and we will ambush the killer with hockey sticks, okay?" Quinn gave a weak smile. "We'll be fine. I'll keep you all safe," Santana concluded, trying to sound as convincing as possible, but truth is, Santana wasn't so sure anymore. Mike's group had been sleeping in shifts as well, and the killer still got one of them. If it was Mercedes, then it wouldn't be as bad, as she was in their group and could get Tina easily. But if it wasn't her or Mike, then that means that the killer could manage to overcome the sleeping in shifts obstacle. That was a scary thought. Maybe they need two people up at one time. They would just sleep through the daytime as well so that they get sufficient sleep. Santana would have to figure it out later.
"I believe you, Santana. I'll try to keep optimistic," Quinn said shakily. "But it's just really hard right now, you know?"
"I understand, Quinn," Brittany piped up. She got out of her chair and sat next to Quinn on the bed, hugging her side. "How about we go and have some fun for the rest of the day, just to cheer all of us up and forget about this killer situation we are in, and we'll keep trying tomorrow?" Brittany tried her best to sound ebullient.
"Yeah, but what are we going to do?" Quinn asked.
"We could go downstairs and use the stereo. We could dance all day, pop out some drinks and refreshments from the kitchen, and lose ourselves to the music," Brittany suggested.
"But that's going to attract a lot of attention," Quinn said, frowning a bit.
"Screw attention," Brittany waved her hand to emphasize her point. "We'll keep our sticks nearby. We'll lock the door. We can barricade the door with furniture. We could even camp there for the night if we don't manage to make our way back. So what if we play loud music? We deserve it."
"That sounds like a really good idea," Quinn mumbled, sniffing again.
"Yeah, we'll do that," Santana agreed. "We'll keep trying tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay."
Taking Quinn's sleeping bag with them and some various stuff from their bedroom in case they had to camp the night, as well as their hockey sticks, they left the room and locked the door behind them. They walked down the stairs to go to the room with the stereo, where they remembered partying at on the first night they were in this wretched house.
"Huh, never pegged Puck as a CDs guy," Santana said, her voice echoing through the large room as she flipped through a shelf full of CDs.
"I don't think it all belongs to Puck," Brittany replied, pushing a couch to the door. "His family owns this house, remember? It could belong to them."
"Yeah, that makes sense, a lot of these songs are really old," Santana said thoughtfully. "Actually, he could have some newer ones on the MP3 player," Santana walked towards the stereo set where she spotted a device lying on top. She was pleased to see that it still had power, after all, it had never been used again after the first day. It couldn't connect to the internet, but there were quite a lot of songs downloaded into the player. "Looks like we got our music," Santana smiled, connecting the MP3 player to the stereo.
"This is going to be awesome," Brittany clapped her hands in excitement. She walked over to the table on the far side of the room, where all the food was. The girls had done another kitchen raid just before, getting basically the rest of the snacks and some more bread, as they couldn't just live on junk food alone. Brittany took a biscuit from a pack and took a bite.
"Are you sure about this?" Quinn asked quietly, sitting on a chair as far away from the door as possible in the corner. She looked anxious, trepidatious even.
"Can't be surer," Brittany beamed. "Come on, Quinn, this will be great! We deserve this."
Quinn merely mustered a small, wistful smile in response.
Suddenly an extremely loud noise made all of them jump.
"Fuck," Santana cursed. "That's loud," she said, frantically turning the knob so that the music was quieter. "That's better," she smiled, walking over towards the empty section of the room, where there was a makeshift dance floor. "What we doing now?"
Brittany joined her. "Dancing, silly," she giggled, taking Santana's arms in her hands and starting to sway to the music. That quickly escalated to some pretty intense dancing.
Quinn watched them from the corner. Brittany was an excellent lead, it was quite amazing how much chemistry the two girls had together: they never trod on each other's toes, they were having fun, they were laughing and giggling whenever one of them makes a mistake. She really wanted happiness for the couple. At least they got to spend their last days in each other's arms. However, this made Quinn's heart clench with longing and sadness. She had no warm body to share. But, hey, at least she had her friends in her last days, right? At least her last days were not with someone like Puck, or worse, spent alone.
Quinn's train of thought was interrupted when Santana plopped down next to her. Quinn looked at her questioningly.
"Come on, your turn," Santana said, slightly out of breath, gesturing towards Brittany, who was waiting for her in the middle of the room, smiling exuberantly.
"No, it's fine," Quinn chuckled, "You can go dance with your girl. I'm happy to just watch."
"That's not the point," Brittany pouted, suddenly appearing in front of the short-haired blonde. "Come, dance with me!" Brittany grabbed both of Quinn's arms with her hands and started to shake them from side to side, to the beat of the music.
"I don't know how to," Quinn mumbled, not exactly willing to get up from her chair just yet.
Brittany rolled her eyes, "That is the dumbest thing I've heard you say, and I've heard a lot of things," she joked, but Quinn still frowned a bit. "Everyone can dance. You just have to let loose and relax."
Quinn looked towards Santana, who simply smiled encouragingly. Begrudgingly, Quinn stood up. Squealing, Brittany started to pull at Quinn and led her to the centre of the room.
"No one's going to judge," she whispered into Quinn's ear. "Just let go. Let your body guide you."
"Okay," Quinn sighed, starting to shyly move her limbs. Brittany beamed at Quinn's participation, however meagre it was.
"That's great!" Brittany chirped. "You're doing great!" Brittany pushed Quinn's shoulder playfully, causing her to sway more, and started to sing to the music that was playing loudly in the background. She wasn't exactly singing properly, so it sounded quite off, but it was nevertheless hilarious. Quinn laughed at Brittany's antics and started to feel her fears ebb away. Quinn started to shift her feet to the rhythm, moving her body with more enthusiasm.
Brittany stopped dancing and admired the sight in front of her, which was a dancing Quinn. "Wow, Quinn, you are totally a natural."
"Shut up, Brittany," Quinn laughed as she stepped on her own foot, stumbling.
Santana started to whoop in the background animatedly.
"I think we should stop and go upstairs now," Santana said, panting. "It's getting late, and I don't think I can go any longer."
"Santana, you're such a killjoy," Brittany pouted, looking down at the two girls in front of her. Santana and Quinn were both out of breath and drenched in sweat, whereas Brittany didn't sound tired at all and her shirt was completely dry.
"I don't understand," Quinn wheezed. "How are you not tired at all?"
"She has insane stamina," Santana responded breathlessly. "She can probably run a marathon or something. Also," Santana paused to send a smirk. "Her having great stamina means that she's a goddess in bed."
"Hey!" Brittany shouted, blushing. Quinn just laughed.
"I don't think I can go on much longer," Quinn said. "Let's go upstairs. We can just talk or something."
"Yeah, okay," Brittany agreed. "I had a great time down here, did you guys?"
"The best," Santana responded.
"Thank you so much Brittany, for bringing me down here. I had a lot of fun," Quinn sighed happily. "I also know how to dance now."
"Oh, don't be silly," Brittany swatted Quinn's arm. "You always knew how to. You were just too shy. You're an amazing dancer."
"Not as good as you," Quinn mumbled.
"Well no one is as good as me," Brittany said in mock narcissism. "But thanks for the compliment. I actually think you're a better dancer than Santana now."
"Hey!" Santana scowled. Brittany just smirked. "Fine, whatever, maybe she is. Let's just go upstairs," she grumbled.
"Should we leave the stuff down here?" Brittany asked. "We have the key, we can just keep the door locked, no one will come in here. We can come back here tomorrow."
"Yeah, I would love that," Quinn breathed.
"Okay," Brittany smiled. "Let's go back upstairs." She grabbed Quinn's sleeping bag and one of the last cookies on the table on the way to the door. Santana and Quinn grabbed the rest of their stuff and followed her. Together, they made their way towards their room after locking the room to the studio. The hockey sticks lay forgotten at the corner of the room.
"How do you feel, Quinn?" Brittany asked as the three of them just finished brushing their teeth and were making their way back into their bedroom. "You feeling any better?"
"Yeah, I guess, a lot better," Quinn responded absently.
"You don't sound so sure," Brittany pointed out, a small frown on her face. "Something on your mind?"
"I'm don't really want to sleep," Quinn admitted. "I don't want to fall asleep knowing that I may never wake. I'm scared." Her voice trailed off to a whimper towards the end, and a lone tear escaped her eye.
"Come on, Quinn, no more tears," Brittany admonished, wiping away the tear with her thumb. "We'll be perfectly fine. We'll all live to see the sun rise again."
"I think that we should sleep in shifts," Santana suggested. "This way, the killer can't sneak up on us halfway through the night."
"Yeah, that's a good idea," Brittany said. "What do you think, Quinn?"
"That would be good," Quinn mumbled. "So who's taking the first shift?"
"I'll take the first shift," Santana offered. "Brittany, you can take the second shift. Quinn, you can take the last shift. That would be early morning, and if the murderer has struck, they would've struck before then. So your shift is technically the safest. How does that sound?"
"Yeah, that would work," Brittany nodded. "How long are the shifts?"
"I'd say three hours," Santana said. "Right now it's eleven, so I'll wake you at two, Britt, and you can wake Quinn up at five. If anything happens, like someone tries to break into our room, scream like a banshee and wake us all up, okay?"
"Roger that," Brittany said. "We'll come rushing to your aid with our sticks, okay?"
"Talking of sticks, where are our hockey sticks?" Santana asked. The three of them started to look around the room for the sticks but to no avail.
"Frick," Brittany cursed. "We must have left them downstairs."
"So we got everything with us, except the most important thing?" Santana said, voice slightly raised. "That's really bad."
Brittany could see Quinn's distress. "Hey, Quinn, don't worry. It's not like sticks are the only thing that we can use to defend ourselves with. We'll barricade this door, and we always have furniture to attack with, okay? I guess we could chuck mugs or rush them with lamps or something. We'll be fine. Just wake us all up when something happens, and they cannot take on all three of us."
"Okay," Quinn sighed. "I believe you. We'll be fine." Quinn sounded like she was convincing herself.
"Yes Quinn, that's right, we'll be fine," Brittany said, rubbing Quinn's back affectionately.
"All right, I'll take the first watch," Santana said. "Do you want lights on or off?"
"Keep it on," Quinn said. "You can switch it off if you want when we're asleep."
"Okay," Santana nodded. "You guys can go to bed now. I'll holler if anything happens, okay? Don't worry." She walked over and gave Brittany a peck on the lips and hugged Quinn afterwards. "Sweet dreams."
Brittany and Quinn tucked themselves into bed. "I'm still scared," Quinn mumbled. "But I shouldn't be, right?"
"That's right," Brittany smiled. She gave Quinn a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Go to sleep. Nothing will happen. I'll wake you up at five for your shift."
"Okay, Britt. I love you," Quinn said, then realised how that sounded. "As a friend of course," she hastily added.
Brittany chuckled. "Goodnight Quinn, and I love you too. As a friend of course," she smirked.
I must admit that it is getting hard to keep myself from being suspicious. There are only six people in this house now. In the morning, there would only be five.
I'm not so sure if I can go on much longer. I'm starting to feel guilty for killing all of these people.
But guilty is not my concern right now. My main concern is my next kill. I need to stay focused. Remorse cannot distract me.
I've been waiting for this opportunity for way too long. This vacation was perfect. So I need to pull myself together and just carry out what I came here to do.
I make my way downstairs. Yes, I know that there would be no one here, because no one is stupid enough to come here, but I need some time to gather myself.
Deep breaths.
I get the knife out hidden next to my calf. I grip it tightly. The knife is my friend. Both offensively and defensively.
Let's put my mask on. I don't want whoever I get today to see my face.
I sigh again. Let's do it.
It's going to be hard. Everyone is preparing for me to come for them, and I will probably get attacked. I'm not sure if I will stay alive much longer. But, it's for the thrill, right? I need to do it.
Who should I target today? Hmm, maybe –
Wait what? Why is someone walking down the stairs?
Are my ears deceiving me? Who would be walking around at this time of day?
A thought makes my blood run cold. What if this was the second killer? The person who killed Puck? I might actually be in danger here.
The person at the stairs walks down their last step. It is really dark. I can't really tell who they are, and I'm sure they can't tell who I am, as I have a mask on.
We have definitely seen each other. We stand there, the person at the base of the staircase and I in the hallway, staring at each other for what must have been a minute. Time passes strangely at these times, okay?
The person reaches behind them and takes out something. My eyes widen. Fuck. They have a sickle.
That is scary. Sickle versus knife. It really could go either way. I'm assuming that this is the person that killed Puck. Or this person is the person that is hell-bent on getting me.
The person takes a few steps forward into the moonlight. She is still holding the sickle in her right hand.
Mercedes?
Did she kill Puck? I didn't think it was her, but hey, you learn new things every day, don't you?
She is now standing in the light. I'm still standing in the dark. Honestly, I am scared of this inevitable fight to the death. Yes, I am quite strong, but Mercedes can be absolutely crazy.
I don't want to kill her. But I have to if that means that she will kill me.
"Take your fucking mask off, you coward," she hisses. Should I? She will know who I am if I do. I mean, she can probably tell by my body shape, but I am standing in the dark so she can't see me that well.
Oh well, screw it. I'll take my mask off.
She sees my face. Her eyes narrow. Before giving me a chance to react, she lunges forward, sickle outstretched, in a swinging motion aiming straight towards my head.
My reflexes save me in the nick of time. I duck and the sickle completes its arc less than ten centimetres above my head.
Is this what every kill will consist of in the future? I may be good at what I do, but I can't guarantee I get all of them before one of them succeeds and kills me.
Luckily for me, the amount of power that Mercedes put into the kill shot threw her off balance slightly. I slide on my knees and thrust the knife. It connects with her shin. She lets out a grunt in pain, but she regains her balance soon. She launches towards me at impossible speed for someone of her physique and I barely block her sickle with my knife. She presses forward until the sickle and the knife is very close to my face, and I sweat a little at the effort I am taking to hold it back so that I don't get cut in the face. She is freakishly strong.
I feign a movement towards the left, and instead move towards the right, deflecting the sickle so that it continues its motion beyond my head and sticks itself towards the wall. I try and thrust my knife towards her abdomen, but she places a well-aimed kick towards my own abdomen, and I fall, feeling like I'm about to throw up.
Well played, Mercedes. You may actually win this one. But I have one more trick up my sleeve.
It's risky. But I can't think of any other way of getting out alive.
I throw the knife in my hand with as much power as I could muster. Yes, I know that's what Tina did, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Luckily for me, the knife wedges itself in Mercedes' chest. She wails in pain, and I take this opportunity to take the upper hand. I rush forward and pluck the knife out, eliciting another wail of pain from her, and I stab her repeatedly, her stomach, her thighs, her face. Blood squirts everywhere, but I don't care. I stab again and again until she doesn't move anymore.
That was fucking intense. You understand now why I'm having second thoughts of killing any more people? Because this is what you fucking get.
Fuck!
I need to wash my face, chuck away my clothes, remove traces of evidence.
This will take a while. I'm not sure if I have time.