House of Horrors

“You bastard! You sick, evil bastard!” Joseph screamed, fighting to escape Faris’ grip. Joshua’s pale face turned up to see his and sneered, standing to his feet, leaving Tom’s body alone as it steadily grew colder.

“You saw him. You saw it with your own eyes what he was going to do! What he wanted to do!” he yelled, stamping his feet like a mad man.

Faris, still clutching tightly to Joe’s waist yelled, "He was scared Joshua! We all were scared!”

“But he would have kill us all if, he had the chance! If he had the fucking bullets!” Joshua snapped back, kicking the silver casing which tinkled as they were spread about the floor.

“Tom would never have killed any of us! Never!” Joe screamed in anger, giving up struggling against Faris and instead choosing to yell at Joshua from where they sat on the floor.

“Wouldn’t he?” Joshua laughed, cackling loudly, “Considering before this both Tom and Rhys wouldn’t have made us out to be killers, I guess it’s safe to say things change, don’t they?”

“N-no they haven’t, Joshua. The difference between what I did and what you did was that you enjoyed it,” Joe whispered.

His accusation was met by a smirk and then a shrug, his apathetic attitude more chilling than anything else. “I guess I always was the weird one.”

Smiling, Joshua knelt beside Tom’s body once again, running his fingers through the thick, brown hair with amusement. He stared intently into his pupils before using the palm of his hand to drag down his eyelids over the glassy orbs of vision. Just then, the second door had opened, creaking loudly on its hinges.

“Gentlemen?” Joshua purred, beckoning to the open door way which gaped wide at them like a mouth way to hell. When he noticed they made no movement to respond, Joshua frowned, turning round to enter the room on his own.

“Should we follow him?” Joe whispered, fear glittering briefly in his speech. Faris grimaced, looking to the open door and the darkness and dread he knew lurked beyond then back to Joseph’s face, ghostly and pallid.

“Do we have a choice?”

Rising slowly to their tired feet, the boys grasped fingers, edging slowly towards the doorway, their cold, shaking hands stilled by the clutch of the other. When they hand reached the doorway, Faris looked down at Joe who nodded back, determination set in his soft features. Giving Joe’s fingers a supportive squeeze, Faris stepped through first, letting the black nothing swallow him up, the only thing reminding him he wasn’t alone was the feeling of Joe’s hand in his and the sound of their heavy breathing.

With his other hand pressed against the wall, Faris led them deeper into the shadows, fingers brushing against the wall which felt cool beneath his fingers. Oddly enough, Joe’s hand felt as numb. They had shuffled forward about 15 feet before they reached a corner and turned, following the rest of the wall. The rippling silence was broken by a loud cackle, causing Faris to freeze still as Joe’s fingers gripped his hand rapidly, the sensation similar to the fluttering of an erratic pulse.

Joshua’s voice was heard like a ghost in the dark, low and menacing, “Marco…”

From nowhere, a flicker of light bloomed and then burst into a fiery beacon, illuminating the rest of the room. Standing at the other end of the small space was Joshua, his right hand on a heavy switch. Between them dangled a thick, heavy chain attached to what looked like a meat hook, the type you got in warehouses.

Or slaughter houses.

It gleamed at them, curved in a silvery smile. The room was wider that it was long, with about 5 feet between Joe and Faris to the hook and around 4 from the hook to Joshua. It shimmered, swaying softly even though there was no breeze. Almost as if the tension burning and crackling through the three of them caused it to shake.

“Death is such a beautiful thing, isn’t it?” Joshua whispered, musingly as he paced towards them. In response they slithered around in the other direction, keeping the distance between them the same. They moved like sets of magnets, repelling each other as they all moved in a clockwise motion.

“It’s a terrible thing,” Faris whispered, limply along beside Joe. His insides were still scarred and harsh from the gas in the first room.

“We used to talk about it all the time when we were young. All the time…” muttered Joshua, his features set in contemplation. For a second he looked so lost. Pained. He stopped and they stopped. The light from the door leading to the room before was to his right, giving him a second shadow, lighter than the first.

Leaning his back against the wall, he slid down, his hands resting on his knees; chin up as the back of his head rested against the hard, cold wall. Drained, Faris and Joe sat also, but as a precaution, remained tense and alert, ready for anything.

Wiping the back of his hand over his sweat covered forehead, Faris sighed, “I guess it’s different when it’s staring you right in the face.”

At this, Joshua laughed, tilting his head to look right into Faris’ brown, sunken eyes. “I’m staring you in the face right now. Does that mean I am The Grim Reaper? Yamaraj? Santa Muerte? Am I Death?”

“You could be.”

Faris stiffened at Joe’s reply but didn’t turn to face him. Before Joshua could reply, something caught there attention. A few yards from Joshua’s left, a hatch opened and another aged metal case was shot out the gap, and the hatch slapped closed against. The seal so clean, if they hadn’t seen it open, the box would have looked like it burst from the thin air around them.

Joshua leaned on his side to tug it closer by his fingertips and cracked it open, the other two making no effort to move closer. Smiling at them, he cracked it open, letting out a low whistle as he peered at the contents inside.

“What’s in the box, Joshua?” Faris murmured, brows furrowed deeply.

“What do you think is in the box, Faris?” Joshua slurred back, that clumsy grin stuck fast on his face once more.

“What’s in the box?”

This time, Joshua didn’t bother with the cheeky retort. He kept on smirking there, running his fingers over the rim of the metal container. A pink tongue the color of strawberry ice cream jutted out and licked over his lips and he lifted up the paper below him and read it, not aloud, but quietly to himself, his speech interjected by the occasional “mmmm” and “ahhhh”.

“Where’s the gun?” Joe mouthed, his voice low so Joshua would hear him.

Grimacing, Faris hissed back, “It’s in my pocket but it’s unloaded still.”

He turned to Joshua sat across from them and gave a nod to Joe before beginning to shuffle forward on his hands and knees. Joe gasped and grabbed him by the waistband of his trousers, shaking his hand as a warning not to go near Joshua, who eyed them occasionally through his dark eyelashes. Taking his hand, Faris tugged lightly until he let go. Joe resisted half heartedly. They both knew it was the only option they had.

“Joshua?” Faris whispered, crawling forward and stopping about 2 feet from Joshua’s pointed shoes which were jutted out in front of him.

Looking up from the piece of paper in his hand, Josh smiled, smirking, “Room three’s called The Swing.”

“Is there anything in the box?” Faris asked, daring to sneak a little closer, breath held. He was so close the point of Joshua’s white boot brushed against his shoe.

Joshua bowed his head, hand still unseen in the depths of the silver container propped on his lap. His eyes appeared to be closed, almost as if he was sleeping. Confused, Faris moved towards him gently, eying him warily. Suddenly, Joshua leaped forward, a glint of silver flashing from the hand he once hid in the box. Faris fell back, landing on the cool of the floor. A yell ricocheted of the walls but he wasn’t sure if it came from him, Joshua or Joe. He managed to hold onto Joshua’s fighting wrists, realizing what was in his hand was not a knife, as he first thought, but a syringe.

Joshua’s violent, snarling face was not the only one above his. Faris could see Joseph now over them both, his face forced as he pulled at Josh’s shoulders, the sound of their struggle, forced and grunting.

Without warning, Joe fell to the ground, wrenching Josh onto his stomach. Faris was pulled up by the sudden momentum, their positions all reversed in a second. He still had Joshua clinging onto his shirt, tearing the thin fabric. It ripped out in a handful sending Faris spiraling to the ground. Joshua’s elbow found their way to Joe’s side in a fierce jab and the smaller boy let go with a hiss. Once again Joshua lashed out with the syringe, but this time, he found his mark and the needle pierced Faris straight in thigh.

“Shit!” Faris screamed, stumbling on his feet. His arms flailed as he grabbed for something to hold onto. The feeling in his legs gave way and he toppled to his knees, and then on his side, half-in, half-out of the still open door way. With a groan, he ripped out the needle. From what he could tell, only a little of the shimmering liquid had been drained into his system.

“What did you do to me?!” Faris screamed, his eyes rolling around wildly in his sockets. The taut muscles over his limbs tensed and then slackened as his mouth opened and closed like a stunned fish.

Joshua was on his feet now, looking down at Joseph on one side, still clutching his side and Faris on the other. Picking up the discarded sheet of paper, he proceeded to read it.

“Room three – the swing, the penultimate room. In the box lies a hypodermic needle and syringe. With in this lies one full dose of Mivacurium, an immobilizing neuromuscular blocker. Well that basically means it's muscle relaxant. The drug is mild, and although it works fast, it does not work for long - 5 to 18 minutes approximately. In the center of the room hangs a hook. Do with it as you please. There are no hidden weapons.”

Clearing his throat, Joshua smirked. “So what do you think guys?”

Laughing to himself, Joshua yanked Joe to his feet with the collar of the white, bloodstained shirt he was wearing. Taking a quick glance at Faris to see he was still frozen and proceeded to pull Joe towards that dirty, great claw which still swung, forwards and backwards in even intervals.

Joshua’s strong fingers were wrapped tight in the soft, black fabric in front of the hook, whispering, “I’m going to make this quick because when I’m done with you, I’m stick the rest of that anesthetic stuff into Faris and cut him right open to see how long until he feels it. See how long it is until he screams.”

Joe could sense in the depth of his soul what was about to happen and screamed, kicking and punching in Joshua’s grasp, clawing his nails over the back of Josh’s fists. A cold point of metal brushed against his back and he wailed, fear now closing in.

Joshua held him with both hand, lifting him a few inches of the ground, the tip of the hook dragging sickeningly against the skin of his back. Staring into Joshua’s eyes he knew the exact second he was going to be let go and when it came, he closed his eyes, teeth gritted in preparation for the pain.

Agony was the emotion he felt as the sharpened end of the hook was thrust through his skin. He could feel it in the space just below his shoulder blade, burning, scorching him, the torturous throbbing making his sweat madly. Slowly, Joe raised his hands above his head, tugging desperately on the chain to pull out the steel curled deep into the small of his back. Sneering, Joshua kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying and his dark, booted feet suspended a hair’s width from the ground.

A light groan was heard behind them and Joshua turned round facing what they could see of Faris, his long legs twitching occasionally. Shrugging, he faced Joe once again, lifting his fist and sending it straight into the center of Joe’s stunned face.

“That was payback for earlier,” Joshua snarled, brows furrowing. He’s hands found their way over Joe’s neck and he hissed, “This is just for kicks.”

His fingers wrapped around Joe’s throat, closing off his air as his lungs panicked and stars flickered and blurred in his vision.

So this is how it feels to die… and so slowly… Joe thought, his jaw working and grinding even though there was nothing in his mouth. He was torn between holding himself up and fighting Joshua’s iron grip. Either way, it didn’t matter. Soon the feeling in his fingers went numb and his hands moved to jerkily for they to be of any use. When he though all that was lost, that he was never going to feel air in his lungs again or see the sun blinding his vision again, Joe heard a bang.

Loud and solid, it moved more like a force than a sound, freezing everything, including time. Joshua hands slackened enough for his vision to swell and grind back into focus. Joshua’s brown eyes were wide, his face confused. He took a step back and away from Joe’s dangling frame, then fell to the floor.

Joe gasped in realization as he looked to see Faris holding the silver gun, between two shaking hands, pointing in aim to the spot were Joshua once was.