Chap. 9

YOUR POV: 

The trap was almost ready. My face burns, and my heart sinks at the idea of dying here, whereas it leaps in giddy circles at the thought of leaving. The boys were going to be in their positions, and me, I was the distraction. 

'RING'

It was almost time, when the black phone rang again. Which was weird, because the others had already called, so who could be calling at this time? They've left us to solve this on our own. They've left us on our own. 

Nonetheless, Griffin trudged over and answered it, falling to his knees and crying as he picked it up. We all ran over to him, as he cried into the phone. "Lee.." he whimpered, as a nice, soothing voice dropped in over the phone. 

"Hello, my love." 

My heart dropped. Lianna. How could I forget Lianna? She hadn't called. And now all I could do was watch as Griffin sobbed, and croaked a teary, and pained sob. 

"Listen love. You have to get out, for me. I've been watching you for quite a while now. I promise I've been here every step of the way, even if you've been rude. You don't have much time, and you can't have my fate. You need to stay, with Y/n. The one will withhold my legacy, lead you places I couldn't. But I promise, I'll always be there, in the shadows. Whenever you need me, I'll be there, whenever you hate me, I'll be there, when you never even remember my name.. I'll be there. I will always be there. No matter what." 

Griffin cried harder, as Lianna gave a sad sigh. "Don't cry love. Like I said, I'll be there. This is the last call. I love you, goodbye my love. In another life." 

Lianna seemed to blow him a kiss, as the phone disconnected. I've never hugged anyone harder in my entire life than how I was holding him right about now. We all were, tied together with trauma and pain, and tears. Tied together with loss. Tied together only to let it go, cut the wire when we make it out. But we will always be together. We will never truly escape. We will always mentally be down here, even when we try to deny it. 

After Griffin finished crying, we went back to our spots, and waited. Waited for the moment, our time to shine. Waiting to be free. Abandoned by it all. To walk out of here, withered. To finally be set free and wander away from it all. 

We tried to wait it out, when the chamber door opened. And there stood a man, with dark hair, a skinny and scrawny frame, a wide smile, and a smell that resembled crack. He smiled at us with an almost surfer-boy grin. 

"Hey dudes! Holy sh*t, you're the missing kids!" he grinned, staring at us with a large smile that took up half his face, and I could instantly tell he was high. It was quite obvious. He smiled at me specifically, then narrowed his eyes. 

"Hey wheres Lianna, Jesse, Adam, Michael, and Tara?" he questioned, and I sighed. "Dead, they're all dead." I whispered, and Griffin looked as if he was about to cry. "Well, my name is Max! Sup?" he asked, and Vance rolled his eyes. 

"Listen, can you just get us out of here? How do you even know The Grabber? ARE YOU THE GRABBER?" 

"Nah man, my brother's the psycho, not me. I'm just here to get my life together. Odd jobs suck, you dig?" Max asked, and we rolled our eyes again. Vance attempted to make another comment, but Bruce stopped him. 

"Listen sir- we really are attempting to escape..." 

"Oh! You wanna know how I found you guys?" he asked, and Billy screamed. "MAX BEHIND YOU!" just before an ax carved through his head, causing us all to scream. The door flew open, and there stood The Grabber, an ax speared into his brother's head. He gave us a smile, staring at the gruesome scene ahead. 

"I see you kids are ready to play. Here comes naughty boy!" he whispered yelled, chucking the ax out of Max's head, as he took three limp steps of shock, his eyes widened in terror and confusion, as he slumped to the floor, dead. He was dead. 

"Look what you made me do. You made me kill my brother." he growled, and Bruce put on his most charming glare. "Sir, we didn't do it...you did-" 

"YES YOU DID!" he shouted, pointing the ax at Bruce. "he was an idiot, but he was my idiot. And now you are all just like him. Idiots. And I'm glad you will share a fate." he smiled, as he started to chase us, as we screamed, cried, and begged for him to stop. That's when I remember. 

The plan. 

"GUYS! COME ON SPOON SPOON!" I shouted, as loudly as possible. Our safe word was spoon, we had established that, because our options were spoon, pinball, baseball, or banana. I think we can tell who suggested what.  

Bruce, who The Grabber was currently chasing, suddenly changed his pace. He ran faster, and towards the hole, where the air vent lay. Except, Bruce skipped the mat, and The Grabber wasn't so fortunate. He fell in, yelping in pain as we heard a snap; assuming to be his ankle.

His scream was agonizing, full of miserable pain. He tried to pick up the ax again, but Vance kicked it away, as The Grabber grabbed his ankle, dragging him closer. My anxiety screamed at me, as I grabbed the ax and chopped The Grabbers hand off, severed at the wrist, his screams even louder at this point, tears of pain pumping through him. 

The blood squirted at us, covering us in a thick red liquid. Billy ran off, grabbing the phone cord, untying it. "I GOT IT! I GOT IT!" he smiled, ran over, then tripped over the wire. "OW!" he whined, as I grabbed the cord, and helped him up. 

The Grabber whined at the pain of his severed hand, a puddle of blood around the dead limb. I wrapped the cord around The Grabber's neck, as he whined in pain, and suffocated in solid horror. Vance kicked and punched him, to the point we had to cut off his OTHER hand, since he kept trying to grab Vance. Which he already did once. 

The Grabber cried in pain, as Griffin ripped off his mask, and he attempted to hide his face with his stumps he now must call 'hands', because he no longer has those. Blood gushed against his face, as he struggled to breath. I tightened the cord around his neck, as he gulped and cried. 

We were constantly torturing him, as the phone rang. 

'RING' 

I set it against The Grabber's ear, giving him a side eyed glare. "It's for you" I sneered, pressing the phone as hard as possible against his ear. 

"You don't have much time"- A.M 

"Welcome to the nightmare end of your pathetic little life motherf*cker!!!!"-J.H 

"Today's the end..."-T.C 

"I'm the end of your life, like you were the end of mine." -M.C

"'And I'm glad we share a fate'" -L.C 

I yanked the rope, tighter, tighter, and tighter. My face feels hot. I feel a sense of power. I have defeated the man who was so eager to kill me he grabs more and more kids hoping for the death of one of them. Or all of them. Or just one of them. 

I yanked and yanked, for three whole minutes. My hands were tired, cut, and sore, but I didn't dare stop. I couldn't. Or then I'd have to hold the wire for another three minutes, and hell I couldn't afford to do that. That's when I noticed him. Slumped, his eyes bulged, but he was still, and seemed to be stiff. Dead. 

Dead. 

Dead. 

Dead. 

Dead. 

He was dead. 

He was really dead. 

Dead. 

Dead. 

Dead. 

He looked like a rotten tomato, his eyes like that. His throat was red, and a slight slash was torn in it, from where I had held the wire. His head flopped back, and it was true. He was dead. 

Dead. 

Dead. 

Dead. 

I hate the idea of dead. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. 

"Y/n! Snap out of it! Come on! We gotta get out of here! Cops are outside, but they've got the wrong house! So let's go!" Bruce shouted, and Griffin latched his hand into mine. We ran up the stairs, sullenly. He was dead, there was no doubt about that. But a part of me wish he were alive, so I could kill him all over again. A part of me believes he may be alive, just acting dead. A part of me wonders if we held the cord long enough. A part of me wonders if this is just a dream, and when we wake up we have to do a do over. A part of me hates that I ran off-- without Jesse Hood, Adam Marks, Michael Cohlwell, Tara Collins, and without her. Lianna. Griffin's Lianna. The one before me, the first true love. Now I hope to be the last. 

We ran to the screen door, and picked at the lock. Our hands fumbling at the key.

23-7-14

2-37-14

and all the ones in-between. 

We were all at a relief when the door opened, revealing the long awaited outside world. We stepped into the moonshine, the wind hitting our arms, sending chills and goosebumps down my spine. My wrist felt grabbed, and I was dragged away by a man in a beige trenchcoat. 

Detective Hawkins. 

The guy who searched the highs and lows for all the other missing kids, who are now dead. The kids who deserved to live their lives. The kids that I replaced in the world. As a survivor. A survivor that didn't deserve to survive. 

I sat on the ambulance, a bandage given to me for my arm, with a scratch I honestly didn't even know I had. It was large, and deep. Seemed to need stitches. But I hadn't noticed it. I hadn't seen it. I hadn't even felt it. Not even when it first happened. 

I still put the bandages over it anyway, and I allowed the nurse on scene to give me my much needed stitches. But I couldn't focus on that. The only thing I could watch were the detectives as they took out the bodies of the five dead kids. 

Michael Cohlwell. 

Tara Collins. 

Jesse Hood. 

Adam Marks. 

Lianna Clarke. 

They deserved to survive. Not me. I didn't. It was never supposed to be me. It was them. They wouldn't have died if it wasn't for me. Me and Bruce maxed out the spots. So he killed Adam and Mikey. That's what Hawkins said. 

I watch as they take The Grabber's severed hands in a bag. They take his body separately, on a stretcher, and all I can think about is the joy I will feel when his body burns into the ground. The tears of joy shall cry, oh boy I can't wait. 

I lay my head on Bruce's shoulder, as he holds ice to his head. Apparently he had a concussion, from the fall. The fall that I didn't even know he took. Griffin was hugging his mom, as she cried and cried about how she got her boy back. 

I watched as Vance hugged his mom, who I just learned he calls 'mommy'. 

I watched as Jesse's parents cried while they dragged away his decomposed body. 

I watched as Mikey's little sister sobbed, as she held her favorite doll. 

I watched as Adam's parents held their boys'fresh dead hand. 

I watched as Tara's parents screamed that she was only 10. 

I watched as Lianna's parents smiled when finding out she died a hero. 

And I thought of myself, my life. I'll write a book on this, I will. And I already know what the first line will be; 

I cheered my brothers team on, as one boy named Adam stepped up to bat. Adam was decent, but to be honest, nobody was, or ever would be, as good at baseball as Bruce Yamada. He has a 99% chance of making it to the big leagues, according to everyone here in Denver, Colorado.

But I didn't see Adam. He had been dead for three days before the match, and was missing for a week.  

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This is the last chapter folks!