Skeletons in the Closet

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How much did you have to pay to get off of a carousel? The nonsense had come back around full force. Marten was just about to plead her case to a understandably enraged Catty... er, Kitty, when a dolled up Adelaide blessed them all with her almost-presence. At whatever unholy time of evening it was, the grunette was actually inclined to ignore sweet Milton. It was probably better to let him ruminate than spend time they didn't have attempting to make things plain. And it would obviously only be an attempt, the guy's skull was like limestone. It only let in what it wanted to let in and nothing more; it also absorbed everything regardless.

However, there was no time to further ponder her strange crush, because she was at another fucking table. I'm eating on beds and couches and beanbags from now on, fuck this shit! Adelaide was being acceptably cryptic for the setting, and Marten smiled at least a little... since Kitty was little. It'd be a million times easier to explain to the lady what happened when she couldn't stare her down like a disappointed auntie.

But of course the industrial fan of life had scattered most of its previous fecal ammo and needed a fresh dose of shit. How else were they going to finish painting Henbard brown before sunrise after all?

She might as well see at least. Marten lifted her cloche only tentatively prepared for what would happen, using the distress and tears of her friends as useful information. "Aw, damn it, why Fitz?" She muttered, staring into the green-blue eyes of the littlest Fitzgerald. Her heart clenched seeing that angelic face, not quite devoid of all his baby fat. He'd been growing lately... Stupid puberty, taking away everyone's cute like they owed it money.

"Marty! You said you'd be back in time for trick or treats! You promised!" The severed head of her little brother was achingly accurate. All sun-kissed, freckly, and beautifully strawberry blonde. She'd always been envious of his hair color. And he had the audacity to ask her to dye it for him. Never! You're just going to have to be doomed and beautiful, you lucky squirt!

"I miss you too Not_Dex," Marten smiled with an oddly serene tilt of her lips. She knew he wasn't real, but she still cried. Eyes going teary with pain, nostalgia, and just enough touch of madness to be acceptable. Females had wandering uteruses and full moon hysteria after all. It was nice to see his face and hear his voice. Even with the ever encroaching darkness of this place, the girl had to cling to something. Familiarity was nice.

The head of her sibling scowled, "You! Always smiling! Even when you fail, like some fucking doll! Everybody knows you're a phony balogna who can't handle anything on your own. Your irresponsibility always mucks shit up! How about some humility! Or some appropriate remorse, huh, Marten? Everything isn't a damn rainbow! Sometimes it's just cloudy, muggy and a bollocks day! You made me a promise! And now I'm freaking ganked because you failed me! Don't you know ma called pops back just to look for you! You already know I look up to you, but that wasn't enough to drill some sense into you! Maybe you'll care about our poor parents!"

She had been content to tune him out. He wasn't real so what was the point after all? However, Marten had to perk up at the mention of her father, because he had been gone when this adventure had happened. Away on one of his many photography commissions. "She did what now?" She could only parrot quietly. Her dad needed sabbaticals as much as they needed the money for their growing family. Ma-Fitzgerald was pregnant again, not showing but she didn't have to. The woman was a blunderbuss sans hormones, and with them... She was more like an M-32, aka Fuck you and everybody near you. If her daddy was home truly, their house was a warzone and there was no one there to play defensive line. Shit.

"You'd know if you weren't a half-baked bitch! You never came back. Do you even know how long its been since you went on your little hunt? You're basically a fucking urban legend at this point! The whole towns burning with searches and talks of serial killers and overall scandal! Good-job, you broke Bellwoods! I tried to be a good brother and look where that got me. You proud of yourself still, Marty? Now we're both trapped in this shithole forever. Smile about that, bitch. I dare you."

And you know what, she would. She did. "You know, you're real good, Pete. Seriously bravo. The attempt is spot on, but I'm a little surprised as smart as you are that you missed something." Fitz was a happy teen. He didn't get angry often, and when he did, he tried not to curse, because the adorable nugget couldn't swear without blushing yet. Technically, he was a severed head, so there wasn't any blood to blush with, but... If she could spite this capricious, bloviating donkeynard of a demonic entity, then she would... with gusto. He thought he knew her... all of them. A rude awakening was nigh. If there was anything that made a human being change, it was adversity.
 
Doll Sized ft. Charlotte & Kitty
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“We’re going to be stuck here for a long time,” Kitty sighed as she folded her arms.

Both of them knew that the Rabbit Hole was the physical manifestation of Adelaide’s deepest fears and insecurities. Most of the time there would be a clear narrative but today her thoughts was all over the place. Appearing almost hysterical. Kitty didn’t like this one bit. The last time Madam had a severe meltdown only the Master could calm her down. Even then, he didn’t manage to escape unharmed.

“We need to find Master. I don’t think either of us can calm her down down.”
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Kitty’s instructions made Charlotte frown. She knew what Kitty was hinting at when she told her to find the Master. This situation was beyond their control and potentially very dangerous. The two of them needed to get their guests out of here before Madam transported all of them into her labyrinth. There was no telling whether the monster living there would be awake. If it was then their chances of escaping was very slim.

Charlotte tried her best not to sigh. “I’ll try to find Sir. Please keep them safe, Miss Kitty! I remembered there’s a door on this floor that would take me back into the abandoned servant’s quarters. Hopefully, I can find Hans and get him to help me.”

She slid down the pile of buns quickly and ran towards the edge of the table. She hesitated, knowing how far away the floor seemed from where she stood. She almost backed down but her sense of duty spurred her forward. Squeezing her eyes shut, Charlotte recited the words from Psalm 91 under her breath. She recentered her thoughts around God and took her second leap of faith.

She curled herself forward expecting to hit the hard wooden floor. Instead she found herself rolling in a patch of grass. She was back in that strange lavender meadow. A battered wooden door stood a few feet in front of her. Charlotte blinked. That was easier than expected! It felt as if Madam wanted her to get Sir.

“Don’t worry, Madam! I’ll be find Sir and bring him here as quick as I can,” she announced.

She picked herself up and made her way towards the door. She didn’t know for sure that this was the way out but she decided to put her faith in Madam. Surely the kind woman hadn’t was aware they were trying to help her deep down. Charlotte felt a little happier at that thought and twisted the knob. She stepped out.

And found herself surrounded by tall hedges…

She was in the Garden …


What the Heck? ft. Kindall
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Kindall doubted he had a vivid dream before. His dreams made a lot more sense than what was unfolding before his eyes. His mind couldn’t accept the fact that they were really sitting at a round table. He swore there was a long table here moments ago. What the serious fuck was happening here? He woke up as his friends were walking in quicksand. After that, there was that blinking jellyfish and the lily pad raft. He must be going mad!

Adelaide was right about this one. Adelaide? Was that her name? Kindall was surprised that he managed to recall that bit of information. Somewhere deep down he remembered her smiling cheerfully as they entered her dining room. There was a lot of food, music and pumpkins. The memory seemed out of place but it was better than nothing. He was confident that his memory was returning gradually. Hopefully, it would all fall in place before he went mad for real.

He clutched his head at the temples and let off a sigh. Trying to remember why they ended up here was more annoying than cajoling a drunk Ethan and Kelsey to leave the bar and let him drive. This had to be the bad Karma Marten warned him about. Some Buddhist philosophy about bad things coming back to bite you. He merely shrugged back then when she mentioned it during their late night movie session with the rest of their friends. Now he was starting to regret it. Maybe he should paid attention when she was telling them how to negate bad Karma. As long as religion wasn’t involved, he’d probably be fine doing what it takes to prevent this weird shit from happening again.

Kindall almost accepted that. His mind rebelled against it and soon the guy found himself trying to rationalize the whole situation again. He came back to one conclusion. This was Kelsey’s fault - technically! They went into the woods to look for her and they ended up in Hannibal’s castle. Or was it Bowser? Or …. Saw? He couldn’t remember the title. It was some outrageous story about a man kidnapping people and torturing them. Probably Saw. He remembered that Bowser was enemies with a bouncing man called Mario. God! He was surprised he even remembered that! He’d need to talk to Ethan too once he figured out how to get them out of this mess.

Shoving his frustrations aside, Kindall copied the rest and lifted up his cloche. He stared. There on the plate was his father’s head … huh? A strange chill ran down his back as a weird sourish sting welled up at the back of his throat.His dad? Hobart Kindall here? He stared for the longest time ever. He made sure to memorize his dad’s schedule for October and November. October 15th to 21st - Zurich. Meeting a drug manufacturer. October 22nd to 27th - Canada. Checking on the main branch and interviewing some potential interns. October 28th to November 5th - Perth. Visiting Grandma with Mom. Australia was a day’s worth of travelling from Bellwoods. 25 hours the last time he checked. There was no way …

“Dad? Where’s Mom?” He asked skeptically. Surely his mom would be the first one to insist on coming back. He could almost imagine her raging and shaking Hobart until he managed to buy the tickets. She’d storm through immigration and insist on bringing her hunting rifle with her once they got into the car. Hopefully she didn’t! He knew his mom wasn’t the trigger happy sort but he didn’t trust anyone with a gun when they were stressed. He could only hope Mrs. Nolan would persuade her otherwise. He wasn’t there to stop her himself.

“She’s in Perth with Mom. I was worried so I came back. Your Mom is worried too. Kindall, I know you’re an independent young man but …”

Hobart droned on. His voice flat and almost lifeless. It was a contrast with the actual Hobart Kindall knew. The lacksidisy man who saw the brighter side of life. Milton’s face began warming up. He pressed his lips harder as his eyes pierced through fake Hobart’s. Bespectacled eyes met bespectacled eyes and suddenly it came crashing down. He saw it. The one detail that was bothering him! Hobart’s spectacles! His dad lost that gold rimmed pair three months ago. He wore a black framed pair now. Kindall knew this because his dad couldn’t resist sending him a “selfie”. It was more like a passport photo to be honest but that was beside the point.

A ringing sound filled Kindall’s ears as he felt the warmth rushing towards the rest of his body. He hadn’t felt this angry before. This was a sick joke! Kindall bunched his hands up into tight fists and slammed them against the table. He slammed them again as his shoulders tensed visibly. His entire body began shaking. Without thinking, he picked up the fake Hobart head and tossed it across the room. The head smashed against the wall and stained it with a sickly orange color. There was a loud squelching sound as the broken head landed on the floor. The insides were dull orange almost like a pumpkin.

Kindall blinked. He expected to hear the sound of metal meeting brick. Maybe a loud crashing sound followed by lots of metal bits and wire. Not .. that! He stared for a bit before sinking back into his chair looking totally dazed. His brain was surprisingly blank. He wasn’t even aware that the rest of the heads turned into pumpkins too. Strange jack-o-lanterns with a red flamed candle inside them along with a “memento” from whoever they were pretending to be.

Milton’s mind was blank. He failed to form any semblance of thought as he stared at the smashed up pumpkin on the floor. Numbly, he staggered to his feet and went over to kneel down beside it. He began examining it out of curiosity and disbelief. He rolled it here and there before extracting Hobart’s lost spectacles from the mushy remains. He made a soft “huh” as he held overhead to confirm if it was the real deal. No one knew how or when Dad lost his favorite glasses but Kindall recalled how they realised it. His parents were staying at the Red Copper over the weekend. His dad had woken up and realised his glasses weren’t on the bedside table. He groped and crashed around the entire room blind as a bat. It was so bad that his mom needed to get the spare pair from the car! Come to think of it … if his dad was blind without his glasses, it was a little weird that he didn’t realise that he lost them.

He felt a proper conclusion was a little out of reach at the moment despite him discovering his father’s spectacles. He knew the conclusion ought to include the weird heads and the person responsible (the sicko?). He shrugged and stood up. “That was … odd,” he managed to say finally. “I think we should leave here.”

He couldn’t bring himself to call this place the Red Copper. It felt so wrong! There was no way that old Mrs. Lyons would allow anyone to play such a twisted joke on her guests. She scold them for even suggesting it. She’d be so loud that Matt would come running down from his room on the third floor to chase them away. So yeah, this couldn’t be the real Red Copper. This was so bizarre! He wanted to know why anyone would bother to go through such lengths to torture them. It was both fascinating and pitiful at the same time! He wondered what the mastermind was like. He bet the person wasn’t that insane. Planning something of this scale needed them to be able to reason.

Milton stopped his brainstorm session when he glanced in Jace’s direction. The poor guy looked very pale and shaken. Kindle was a bit unnerved at the sight. He had never seen Jace this upset before. Usually Jace would be the one calming people down. Now it looked like Jace needed someone to cheer him up. Kindle knew he wasn’t exactly the best man for the job (Ethan filled that role too) but he was the only one not so preoccupied at the moment. He glanced briefly at Ethan before making his way towards Jace. He had to slow down a bit to sidestep the congealing vomit on the floor but he managed to get there without stepping into the puddle.

“You alright?” He asked, placing a hand on Jace’s shoulder.

He used his other hand to grab a napkin off the table and held it up. He paused hoping that Jace’s answer would give him some clue on how to proceed. He knew there were some tried and true methods for consoling people. Offering them a hot drink like tea or cocoa, asking them to talk about their problems or giving them some space. He preferred the last option as it involved the least amount of emotions. Dealing with someone else’s emotions was stressful and very messy. He flexed his fingers nervously before deciding that saying a little more probably wouldn't hurt. He guessed that Jace could use some prompting too.

“You don't look too good but I won’t offer you a cup of tea unless you really want it. You could talk about it if you want.”

Whatever progress they made came to an abrupt end. There was a loud clatter as a trap door fell open overhead. There was barely a millisecond between the door opening and Ana tumbling down with a noose around her neck. She didn’t even get the chance to scream before the group heard an audible snap. Ana’s eyes glazed over rapidly as she continued dangling above them like a macabre chandelier. This time it was Milton’s hand digging tightly into Jace’s shoulder. He was once again at a loss for words.
 
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Voices erupted all around her, and Kelsey was well-aware that they belonged to her friends. The same fucking shitshow was being shown to everyone seated at the table, and yet, she couldn't tear her eyes away from her own silver platter. It's all a lie, the rational side of her practically screamed. But it wasn't a lie either, they really were witnessing the worst of His cruelty.

"Dad... I-I was just trying to find Jo. We couldn't leave him."

"Of course, you care about some mutt more than you care about us. Is that why you barely visit, kiddo?" More barbed words that rung true. "Don't even say it, your apologies aren't worth anything anymore."

She couldn't stop answering, even though it wasn't true, Peter had captured her father's appearance effortlessly - there was the same tousled brown hair, the same reading glasses... even the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was upset remained the same. Lie or not, it was her father she was looking at. "It wasn't like I wanted to disappear."

"You've always wanted to disappear, go off on some silly adventure."

"That's not true," Kelsey's voice broke. "I wouldn't just leave."

"You got your wish, kiddo." He closed his eyes then. Her father looked at least a decade older. "You got your wish and now everyone is going to die. Your friends have families waiting for them too, and now they'll never go home. Look where selfishness gets you? It doesn't affect just you, Kelsey. You've dragged them all into your pit."

Her father's words were true. If she'd listened to Kindle and waited for the search party, none of her friends would have gotten into this horrible mess. She could hear their voices, all of them crying out and hurting. Every word they uttered cut deeply, she'd done this to them. She'd ruined their lives and dragged them all to hell. "I'm... I didn't mean for it to go this way."

"But it did, and now we're all here."

A sob bubbled out from somewhere in her chest. "You're not not dad."

"Then why do you keep talking to me like I am? This is your truth, kiddo. You dragged your friends into this, and it's not some nightmare you can just will away with a pinch or a slap on the cheek."

She didn't answer him.

"What are you going to tell her mother?"

"What?"

"Her mom trusted you. What are you gonna tell her mother now?"

Before Kelsey could understand what her father was talking about, his dismembered head turned into nothing more than a pumpkin on a silver platter. It was a surreal transformation, and Kelsey remained still as she noticed her father's watch inside of the orange shell. What kind of fucked up joke was this? What had the illusion been trying to say before he vanished? The answer came falling out of the ceiling when Ana fell through with a snap. The girl was blue-lipped and hanging motionless from a noose. Unlike the earlier spectacle, It didn't look like an illusion at all. The fact that Ana had been missing for awhile only made the macabre scene before them even more real than anything else they'd seen at Henbard.

What are you going to tell her mother now?

Jumbled up thoughts raced through Kelsey's head. This had to be another joke... and yet, something in the pit of her stomach told her it wasn't. Every other illusion had been strange, crazy even. This, it was plain and real and cruel.

"Ana..." Kelsey leaped out of her chair so abruptly that she knocked it over as she stood. The tears were blurring her vision now. "We have to get her down!" It would take a few minutes for asphyxiation to happen. If they got to her now maybe they could save her, maybe she would wake up and be okay and they could all still go home together. Right?

Kelsey didn't realize she was outright sobbing as climbed up the table to try and reach Ana. "We have to..." The world spun and she nearly fell. "We have to... to get her down." Useless. Her trembling arms reached out for Ana when she finally realized something. "Ana..."

You killed her, kiddo. What are you going to tell her mother now?

"She's not breathing."
 
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London held the lid down as though her mother’s head threatened to burst off of the plate. “See? You’re already running! If you can’t even face your own feelings, how can you hope to defeat Him?The cloche muffled Beth’s voice. “Face it, Sweetpea: This is one boss battle you’re never going to win.”

Before she could react, the smell of vomit hit the air alongside an ear-piercing scream. London’s head shot up to witness Kenai attacking Nita’s face and Jace slumped over the side of his chair, shoulders heaving. At the same time, Ethan had grabbed Preston’s head and thrown it across the room only to have it reappear on his plate. Marten was crying and Kelsey looked mortified and London herself wondered when the room began to spin.

Kindall stood and chucked his father’s head into the wall. Instead of reappear on his plate it burst into a smashed pumpkin. Around the table, each face He had conjured turned into a pumpkin, too. Her mother’s voice quieted. Swallowing dryly, London slowly lifted the lid.

Like all the others, a Jack-O-Lantern sat on her plate. A burning red candle sat in its mouth along with… “What…?” London gingerly removed her mother’s old photo inserts that she used to keep in her wallet. That is, until a raging London threw them in the trash on a recent Father’s Day gone wrong.

Thumbing through the small photos, London’s eyes landed on the face of her dad. In the photo he was young and smiling with closed lips next to an equally young Beth who’d snapped a picture kissing his cheek. He had the same long face and hooked nose as London; the same unruly black hair and dark irises; the same bags under his eyes.

London didn’t just act like her father. She frowned down at the corner of the photo. In cutesy cursive - her mother’s handwriting, she knew - were the names Beth and Leandro. A heart made of faded ink framed the words. Before she could flip to the next insert, a trap door opened from the ceiling and a loud snap echoed around the room. London dropped the photos.

Above the table dangled Ana from a noose.

Lip quivering, London took a step back. “N-No, that’s not-... He’s just-...” she nearly stumbled over the leg of her chair. “Ana…?” Her voice broke. It couldn’t be Ana. Not their Ana. He’d done this before with Matt; he was just fucking with them again. He had to be.

Around her waist the corset suffocated her - or was it the air? Where had the air gone? London sucked in a forced breath. Her skin turned clammy, sweaty, cold. Numb. Her back pressed against the wall. London knew she should go towards Ana and her friends and try to help like she had in the cellar, but something deep inside compelled her to get away. She didn’t want to see another person die. She didn’t want to see a corpse.

Didn’t want it to be Ana.

London stared as Kelsey fumbled to get Ana down. Didn't realize she'd started bawling until her friend’s words hit like a freight train: She's not breathing... She'snotbreathing... Notbreathingnotbreathingnotbreathing.

A n a's

not
b r e a t h i n g.
 
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"Ke-Kenai.. Drop.. drop her!" Jace spoke between heaves. It was one thing to see his sister's severed head on a china plate, but to see his dog attack and eat her? It wasn't an image he would have conjured even in his nightmares. As such, it was difficult to look anywhere other than down at the floor. He didn't want to look up and see her bloodied face, exposed skull, shreds of hair. It wasn't really her, but it was too real, too close to home. Her screams echoed in his ears until he almost didn't hear Milton addressing him, until he almost failed to realize that the head was no longer screaming.

Jace dared to look up. Just behind Milton, Kenai sat chewing on bits of.. "Pumpkin?" He blinked away tears and swiped is face with the sleeve of his robe. Amongst the gooey orange chunks was a familiar looking pile of fabric. It was a floral patterned scarf of rich, vibrant colors with a tasseled hem. The material was extremely soft, a finely woven wool. It was Nita's pashmina scarf that she had lost only weeks ago. Jace recalled in vivid detail how she had worn it on the last family camping trip of the year, which always took place right before exams started. He had told her not to wear it, that it would get ruined in all the wet and damp of the woods due to the season's rain. She had insisted because it was her favorite. That night, she went to sleep with it beneath her head like a pillow. It was gone when she woke the next morning. She had been so mad that people in New York City surely heard her enraged screams. She had even blamed Jace on account that he was the one teasing her about it.

Jace reached out and slowly scooped the scarf from the floor to stuff in the pocket of his robe. He was going to answer Milton, say that he wasn't drinking any tea from this table when a clatter drew his attention. As if waiting for the most inopportune moment, a trap door opened over the table. From it tumbled Ana, hanging from a noose. A sickening sound filled the room as the rope drew taut and her descent was cut short. Her lips quickly turned blue and the light in her eyes faded.

"ANA!" Tearing forward, Jace joined Kelsey on the table, nearly tripping over his robe. They had to get her down, but how? There was little time to contemplate ideas. Jace wrapped one arm around Ana's legs, lifting her so that she was supported against his shoulder while he used his other hand to shimmy the noose off of her neck. She fell into his arms as he leapt from the table. He hit his knees and laid her on the floor.

"Ana!" Jace put an ear to her chest and listened, not hearing anything but the sound of his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears. Placing hands on her chest, he started compressions. "1. 2. 3. 4. 5." He counted under his breath then placed his lips on hers to push air into her lungs. "Come on, Ana. Come on!" He repeated this a few times, each time counting slower, pressing less fervently. It dawned on him finally what he knew the second she had fallen: that she was dead. It wasn't a matter of her simply not being able to breathe. She was hung; her hyoid bone was more than likely crushed.

Her death was instantaneous.

Jace sank back on his heels, shoulders shaking violently. A sob started low in his chest and caught in his throat before erupting in a long, forlorn wail. He scooped Ana into his arms, hugging her close to his chest. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, fingers curled into her shirt. Hot tears stung his eyes and his lungs ached with each sob. Fake Nita's words circled his head.

"Your hero complex is so bad, it even caused you to lose your other friend."

How could he let this happen? If he had done a better job of protecting her, if he hadn't let her fall behind, she wouldn't have been taken. She wouldn't be dead. He couldn't protect her just like he couldn't protect Kelsey.

"You can't save them."

He couldn't protect anyone.
 
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Ethan panted and heaved, no matter how many times he would grab and throw one of the many heads of Preston that would keep on reappearing, he just kept on throwing. Fatigue had finally settled and so had the tears, if Butzy or Peter or whichever asshole was ruling this place wanted to see them broken and crying, he had succeeded for the most part. "What's wrong, Sunshine?" A chorus of voices said, their tone dripping with sarcasm. Weary eyes looked at the platter, a multitude of severed heads on them.

"Scared?"


He was, he never liked admitting it...

"Going to cry?"

He already was, and wasn't sure if he was going to stop anytime soon...

"Why don't you owe up to yourself and become a real man for once, Ethan!"

Ethan clutched his head, falling down to his knees. The cacophony of voices emanating from his lover was starting to take a toll on his psyche. "Why don't you try dealing with this like how you deal with all of your problems; running away like a little bitch!" He protested weakly, managing to utter a faint cry. "Stop...Please....Stop!" A devilish grin formed on all of the heads, simultaneously smiling at him that unnerved Ethan to no end.

It taunted him once more, "Why don't you make me?" Ethan gritted his teeth, attempting to take a hold of one of the severed heads once more only for it to suddenly turn into sunflower petals at his touch. "Wha-?" Confused, the young man could only stare at his hand, the petals uselessly falling down at the floor. The lid of the platter had suddenly closed itself, silencing the voices of Preston's head.

Cautiously, he opened the lid only to find a pumpkin at the center, sunflower petals surrounding it ominously as two butterflies wistfully minded their own business nearby. He looked around, everyone else had been given one too apparently, and he shrugged...It wasn't like they had a choice to disobey. Steeling himself, Ethan exhaled deeply as he gingerly reached inside to grab what was inside.

Retracting his hand, item in tow, Ethan was looking down at box. Its exterior patterned with floral prints and tied close with a cute ribbon, the words "Mementos" written on a tag, indicative of what one were to expect inside. Curious of the contents of the box, Ethan untied the ribbon, taking a peek inside and when he did so, there was a swelling feeling of indescribable sorrow? Happiness? Bittersweetness? Even he couldn't tell, it was a mixture of all three.

Trinkets and baubles, a concert ticket or two, mushy and sickly-sweet poems and little notes, blurry photographs serious and otherwise. All memorabilia from the numerous dates he and Preston have partook in. Wading through the assortments of things, Ethan picked one up at random, indulging himself on a trip to memory lane. He picked up a keychain depicting a small cow hugging a heart, there was a note attached to it saying; "He won this and still gave it to me, shocker!" That elicited a small laugh from the young man.

He picked up a blurry photograph, unable to decipher it beyond bright lights and a dark horizon. Flipping it backwards there was a message; "HE'S SCARED OF HEIGHTS, OMG! SUPER CUTE WHEN HE'S SCARED!!" He glanced at the photo, as if only now realizing that it was a picture of them inside a gondola of a Ferris Wheel, peak height too. Ethan couldn't help but laugh somewhat at Preston's weird collecting habits.

But perhaps the one thing that caught his eye was a lone sunflower, planted inside a small vase. Poor thing looked like it hadn't been receiving the same kind of love and care its owner did. Ethan bit his lip, reading the note to see more of his lover's little comments. "Sunshine? Sunshine! AHHHH! HE CALLED ME HIS SUNSHINE!!!!" Ethan became dimly aware of the tears that had once again started to pour out from his eyes. Sniffing, he read the note again...

Sunshine, the words echoed throughout his ears and into his mind, he swore that he could still hear Preston's voice saying the same thing. All their time dating and Ethan never knew that Preston was the sentimental type. A well-hidden secret too, he had never once seen the box in his entire life. Ethan's trance however was broken, screaming filled the air as his vision shook back to reality.

Wide-eyed, Ethan stood on, motionless as he and his friends witnessed quite probably, one of, if not the most, haunting sight they had seen yet. "A...A-Ana?" No sooner had the words left his mouth did Jace and Kelsey immediately sprung into action. He couldn't stop looking at her motionless body, her eyes the very definition of agony and pain. "This...Th-This is a joke, right?!" This is the same stunt that that poser Matt did back at the basement! Any minute now Ana's going to convulse back into life and turn and melt into hot goo or some shit.

The minutes were ticking but nothing was happening, Ana was as cold and lifeless as they had seen her hanging from the noose, even as time had ticked away. He wanted to curl up into a ball and just make thing stop again, why wasn't their some kind of 'Undo' or 'Load from Last Save' feature in real life? He wanted to run away...just to stop everything. After all...It was the only good thing he was good at when faced with problems...
 
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"I'm so glad you still want to play. I can't wait to turn that smile upside-down, Marty."

She might have been happy when that disgusting replica became the pumpkin that it was, holding within the cell phone that Dexter Fitzgerald had, frankly, been happy to lose. But those final words were ominous and unsatisfying. She might have been happy, but... The feeling that she had done something wrong nagged at the back of her mind. Thou shalt not tempt...

She reached into its gaping maw to grab the dinged, blue contraption that had been the unwilling partner for many a hair-brained adventure. Her pack was long gone, all hiking snacks and first aid with it, so she put it in her bra, one of the last things of hers that she owned in this place. She wasn't leaving anything behind anymore. It was all going in the bra. She should have been listening to grandma-wisdom all night. Maybe she wouldn't have been such a screw up. Everything goes in the bra... Everything important.

There can't be too much cancer beams left in this thing; it's been weeks. She thought as the plastic and metal pressed against her soft flesh. He had a new phone now, but maybe they'd be able to get the photos off of this one at least? He probably wouldn't want to. Too many pre-High school photos of him with his horrifying Bieber-fever haircut locked inside.

Marten had to think positive. Of good and reasonable things, especially with everyone crying. And they were all crying, especially because... Nope! If she didn't make eye contact it'd just go away like everything else in this stupid place. It's not real. How did she figure it wasn't real? Well, she'd just had the most surreal and biting conversation of her lifetime with her little brother's severed head only to find out that her raison d'etre had been dissected and psycho-analyzed by a pumpkin. It couldn't have been more nerve-wrecking than if he'd asked a cliche "Where's your God now?" at the end.

Not real feet above the table. Not real Ana on the floor. Not real. Not. Real.... But all this fucking wailing was real. So many bitter, angry, destitute tears like the worst thing in the world had fucking happened and you had a hemorrhoid the size of a planet at the same damn time. To be fair in the small suburb of Bellwoods the not_death of a youth was up there when vying for "worst thing in the world status". But her "fucks to give" quota had run out somewhere between Fireflies and Speed Racer. I'm so tired of crying and screaming. This is why I can't hack it in Hell. Listening to eternal bitching? No thank you. This place was like the worst trip. It wasn't even Trainspotting bad; it was bath salt cannibal bad.

Don't believe your eyes; they only see what you touch. You only touch what you perceive. You only hear what you want to.You only smell memories... You only taste like... what five flavors? But you have a gajillion taste buds for some reason.

Marten watched her friends as if through a glass window, crying as she was inundated by the intensity of their grief which filled the room like dense fog. Most people didn't realize you could pick emotions like daisies if you just wanted to do so. Tightly held emotion was useful that way, she guessed. At least she could look like her presence was.... present, but she wasn't all there. There were literally too many things going on at the same time. If anything part of the mental breaking happening in this moment was 70% due to stress all by itself!

How long have we been at this? This is the rabbit hole and I haven't seen one rabbit and no freaking clocks in sight! The grunette was tired, too tired for bullshit. Too tired to trust that she wasn't hallucinating at some wicked hour in the night. Too thirsty to waste more water through her eyes or give emotion that she just couldn't muster anymore. And most certainly tired of pumpkins. At this point if their assailant was seriously a pumpkin. She was read to go Burger Time on his ass! All she needed was some cinnamon sugar and she could take him all by herself. Some nutmeg too...

If that was Ana, then she promised to cry a million tears... later. And some of them had been cried a while ago when she'd been first drug away. It was really important not to dwell in the past, especially in obviously life threatening situations. As it were her greatest suffering was only that her friends were in existential anguish, there was a demon watching from the shadows, and her head was starting to hurt from dehydration. Fuck Halloween. It wasn't even her favorite holiday. She liked Christmas best.
 
Collab between @Fox of Hearts and @Fox of Spades
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Kindall felt hollow and incredibly tired all of a sudden. He planted himself down on Jace’s vacated seat and pulled his gaze upwards to the open trapdoor. The blackness seeping from the hole fascinated him a lot more than it should. It was, in essence, a distraction from sobbing filling his ears. He felt the loss as acutely as the rest but he wasn’t sure that tears would remedy the situation. The relief would only be temporary. At the end of the pity party, Ana was gone and they were stuck here with a madman.

No one seemed to have realised it yet!

The thought brought a soft sigh from his lips. He needed to get the group out of here before the killer struck again. Persuading them to follow his advice would be even tougher considering that he planned to leave Ana’s body behind. He could already imagine Kelsey screaming at him, calling him callous and bossy. Those words would hurt but he’d deal with it the way he always did. Brush them aside and keep moving forward.

He gave his friends a little more time to grieve before he walked over to Jace. He stood behind the dark Tarzan, watching the man sobbing while clutching Ana’s body. Milton felt very awkward right now but he knew it had to be done. He tapped Jace gently on the shoulder. “Jace? Please let go of Ana.”

He tried to sound gentle but his words came out flat. Almost weary like the way he felt deep down. He shook the shoulder gently to try and get Jace’s attention for real. “Jace? Please let go of her body.”

He didn’t even bother trying for a third time. He simply dropped to his knees in front of his friend and attempted to pry Ana out of his arms. His efforts were met with a swift arm lash that knocked his glasses off. Kindall must have shouted or something. He wasn’t sure. He only remembered squinting as the world turned blurry. He could see different shades of brown and white swimming around him. The swirling brown he assumed to be Jace’s flailing arm. Bowing forward to avoid it, Milton managed to pry Ana free. He scooted away as he felt around for his glasses.
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Kelsey waited for Ana to melt into a puddle of goop in the same way Matt had--she never did. Instead, she remained blue-lipped and lifeless even as Jace did away with the noose and pulled their childhood friend into his arms.

This was real. Ana was dead because of her.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe, and suddenly, Kelsey was drowning in a tidal wave of mixed emotions. Everything in the background blurred as Kelsey began to shake.

Ana was gone. She’d lost a childhood friend and a sister, and Peter had taken away a decade’s worth of shenanigans in the woods and drinking sessions in the tree house… and oh god, they’d lost Ana.

Her vision was blurry with tears and limbs as weighty as lead. Kelsey could only sob as emptiness and loss blurred together.

It was Jace lashing out and Kindle yelping that brought her back to the present.

Kindle’s words were nails scraping against a chalkboard.

“Kindle, just… stop.” They needed to try and save Ana. “We need to help her.”

Kindall’s managed to find his glasses without any help. He appreciated his vision returning to normal as he looked at Kelsey’s tear stained face. He averted his eyes quickly and turned towards Ana instead. He could feel Kelsey’s pleas weighing heavily on his shoulders. He tried his best to ignore it by focusing on Ana. He lay her down on the floor then arranged her arms neatly at the side. Hands palms down. He took one last look at her glassy eyes after that and closed them.

He staggered to his feet intending to find a tablecloth or curtain they could use to cover the body. “CPR won’t help,” he explained. “She’s gone, Kelsey. I suggest we give her some dignity until we can get help. The police would take her to the morgue and inform her family. We can be there when that happens.”

There he said it. More or less. This was all they should do. Dragging her body with shouldn’t even be considered. “We could bundle her up in a tablecloth or long curtain and hide the body. I believe we shouldn’t risk the killer destroying the evidence.”

Kindall hoped that didn’t sound as heartless to them as it did for him. He didn’t mean to sound so impersonal. Ana was Ana whether she was dead or alive. He only said “evidence” because that’s what the police would need to put their tormentor behind bars. It was the best way to give Ana the justice she deserved.

“I think we contaminated the crime scene enough.” He elaborated. He suspected he might have jumped several steps away in his haste but he would be more than willing to explain his thoughts if anyone asked.

Talk of forensic investigations and the police left Kelsey feeling cold. How could he suggest something like that? Kindle was logical, but how nonchalant he seemed rubbed Kelsey the wrong way. Her emotions were a tidal wave and she was one step away from pulling Kindle down with her.

“Kindle… this is Ana.” Kelsey snapped. “We can’t… we won’t leave her here.” Her voice was laced with the hopelessness she felt. They couldn’t bring Ana back, but she wouldn’t leave her friend, not here and not like this.

“We don’t know what’s beyond this room,” Kindall explained as calmly as he could. He didn’t like how Kelsey’s voice was rising to a hysterical pitch. The intense emotional vibe made him clenched his hands. He tried his best to ignore it as he rummaged around for a useable piece of cloth. “We might end up damaging her body while trying to escape.”

Kelsey snapped then and there. “Stop treating her like she’s one of your CSI dummies.”

“She’s not,” Kindall stated in the same detached tone. He stood up and turned round to face Kelsey. He found an unused tablecloth on the shelf inside the storage cupboard beside the fireplace. It was the same place Matt’s grandmother liked to keep her spare lining. The details were uncanny.

“I’m trying to be respectful.” He insisted as he began draping the cloth over Ana. “So please, can we figure out where to hide her body?”

The tension in the room was palpable.
 
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Ana wasn't breathing. Ana wasn't turning to goop like she was supposed to. Ana wasn't imaginary. Watching the scene unfold, London's knees buckled and she slid down the wall, palms cupping her mouth. Some part of her had known that Peter wouldn't play the same card twice but even so, she hadn't wanted to believe it.

Their Ana was dead and there was nothing they could do.

"L-Lo, lo siento," she blubbered quietly, "lo siento, please. We're sorry. We're so sorry." This punishment was so much worse than fighting a transformed Kitty or Charlotte. Made her losing the Cryptodex entries seem small. "I'll- we'll play the game, just bring her back," her cries grew in volume though remained somewhat muffled by her hands. "Please don't hurt us."

This was supposed to have been a good Halloween - one where they found Kelsey in time to still celebrate with cheap alcohol, costumes, and B-Rated horror films. They weren't supposed to be tortured. Ana wasn't supposed to be hung, much less in front of them. If London thought she'd never get the image of fake Matt dying out of her head, the sound alone of Ana's neck catching on the noose would incite nightmares for months - even years - if not the rest of her life. They were going to miss out on so much, her and Ana, not to mention the others. London would never get to tell Ana when she finally unlocked Mothman's secret ending in the Cryptid Otome Game she and Ethan recommended, for one. Never fully push past the hurdle that was London's shyness and Ana's outgoing personality and become great friends like London had, deep down, always wanted.

London had tried to protect her, once with Lenore and the other when she gave the walkie-talkie to Marten. Yet, it all resulted in the same ending.

She'd felt invincible before, when angry. Now she felt shattered. Had her and the others' courage to call Peter out been Ana's downfall? Had they signed her death warrant? The thought made her sob even more. On some level she hadn't thought Peter would actually kill them; that he wanted them as trinkets more than he did fertilizer for his garden. Perhaps that was why she so easily ran after the miniature pumpkin every time, or how she stood up to Bird Beast Salem and the werewolves with Charlotte. Some part of her hadn't expected death.

But this... London vaguely registered the bickering between Kindall and Kelsey. She didn't want to leave Ana behind but to move forward they couldn't be toting around a body, that much she acknowledged. Yet, she couldn't find the words or strength to pick a side. Instead, she cried into her hands just as she had done the first time they were all in the cellar. The only difference was Ana could no longer tell her to be quiet.
 
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Ana was gone. No amount of crying or cursing or pleading would bring her back, and Jace knew that. It seemed like the more he thought about this truth, the more it hurt and the more tears came. He had just lost his childhood friend, someone who he had grown up with and come to love and care for as though she were family. A loss like that wasn't something a person just walked away from or cried a little and moved on an hour later, that is unless that person was a sociopath. Jace wasn't ready to let go in any respect, so it was especially aggravating that Milton insisted he do so.

At first, Jace simply shook his head and tightened his grip on the limp girl in his arms. It brought him some obscure form of comfort to hold her like that. When his friend insisted a second time, he groaned irritably and spoke, only barely lifting his face from Ana's neck.

"No." The word was soft, almost indeterminable from the sigh that was released in the same breath. Jace wasn't usually one to lash out, at least not physically; he relied on verbal venom to attack with. "Fuck off!" In the heat of the moment, when Kindall tried to pull Ana away, Jace whipped his arm back as far as it would go and threw a right hook. It wasn't really his intention to hit him, though he was far from his rational mind and therefore the fact that he swung armed Milton and knocked his glasses off didn't register immediately. When it did, the surprise showed on his face. He was also arguably surprised that Milton had managed to pry Ana away from him.

That look of surprise didn't last long; however, quickly replaced by a look not one of them had ever seen on his face. His gaze hardened through the tears, reflecting a seething mix of anger and hatred. It wasn't directed at Milton, for none of this was Milton's creation or blame; but he was caught in the cross-hairs and there was a target on his back. Jace rose to his feet, towering and ominous like the monolith.

"You just don't get it, after all of this.." Jace growled through clenched teeth. "We're not leaving Ana here! This isn't some Michael Myers psycho-killer-in-the-woods bullshit! This is fucking IT! This is fucking poltergeist meets Aldrich abomination! This isn't something you can just explain away with science and reason! This is Peter's Asshole! Wonderland incarnate!" His voice erupted into a full-on yell. He paced around angrily a moment while Kelsey conversed with Milton before cutting in.

"There's not going to be any fucking police investigation! If we leave Ana here, she's gone for good! This place is constantly changing! There won't be any body left to find! What will we do about her parents then, huh? They won't have a daughter to lay to rest!" He was gesturing wildly with his hands, with such force that they would leave a black eye if they hit someone's face. "It doesn't matter if we hide her; this is his world! He'll know! Besides, how do you expect the police to be able to find her here? We wouldn't have found the door without Charlotte! How do you expect them to?!"

With every word, Jace could feel his blood boiling. The yelling and erratic hand flailing wasn't helping his temper. What he really wanted was to hit something. Grabbing a plate from the table, Jace flung it at the wall. The pumpkin pot pie that sat on it splattered into an orange mess on the wallpaper; the plate shattered and sprayed its pieces haphazardly on the floor.

"I'll carry Ana. I carried you just fine, and her dead weight is lighter than yours."
 
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Manipulated. Predetermined. Rigged.

That's how it all felt, it's how everything felt for Ethan. They were being lured and they fell for the trap, all of it. Hook, line, and sinker.
Some sadist is watching them cry their hearts out, getting a raging erection from all this glorious torture porn he's inflicting on young adults.

His gaze never left the grotesque sight of Ana's corpse. Jace and Kelsey was hit with it the hardest, the vision of one of their, if not closest, friend dead before them was certainly going to leave a mark that not even years of therapy could probably remedy. Ana...She was always a bit of a wild card. Ethan fondly remembers of nights where she would be an alternate choice for some bar and club hopping, whenever Kelsey was unavailable for some reason.

To say that she was the life of the party would be putting things lightly. Her humor was one a kind, and the smiles she put out when doing any of her antics were one of the most genuine and heartfelt he had ever seen...And now, she was a mere shadow of those things. Lively and energetic movements became stiff and dead, devious smiles and grins had been replaced with a visage of pain and agony. Even if he didn't have the best relationship with her, Ana was still a friend of theirs..But now, she was disco dancing with Death...for all eternity.

Everything was quiet...The dead air around them, left a lasting impression. There weren't event crickets to at least make the situation somewhat less somber. It wasn't until Kindall broke the silence did Ethan snap back to reality. He was trying in vain to let Jace let go...That...That was a thing that was so much more easier to say than actually do. "Kindle, I think you should give him some more ti-"

Ethan didn't even get another word in before a smacking sound resounded throughout the entire room. Something whizzed past him and it took him a moment to try and process what the fuck just happened. Milton was scooting around like Velma Dinkley, trying to find his specs while trying to manhandle everything he can touch like a 40 year-old pedophile. Looks like Jace decided to give Milton some good o'l fisticuffs. The nasty Betsy Backhand does that to a man...

Now it was Kelsey's turn to speak up. Ethan always thought that he and Milton were ready to go at it with knives at each other's throats, but their foray into Henbard proved an interesting reversal of roles...Kelsey was always the one to diffuse their petty fights, but now...

Kindall tried to approaching things from a logical and rational standpoint, like he always does. Kelsey meanwhile, wasn't having any of it. Her voice going through a roller coaster of ups and downs before reaching the peak...Ethan just sighed, palm meeting with his face as he sighed. Ai yai yai...

Telltale who? This wasn't some Paragon or Renegade choice or some dinky returnable option like in visual novels. No saving just in case you could retrace your steps and avoid making a mistake. In fact, the choices he, and everyone else, could make felt all like they were wrong choices. "I think that we sh-" Again, not even another word in before something snapped. Not a twig or some floorboards, it was more like a switch that had been turned on in someone's brain...Jace's to be exact.

Ethan always had the impression that Jace was a gentle giant. He could be tall and imposing if he wanted to, striking fear in the hearts of any who would cross him but he wasn't like that...No, quite the contrary. He was a lovable soul who looked out and cared for his friends, even to a fault at times. Even when Kelsey's investigations would get her into legal trouble or whenever Ethan himself would make inappropriate advances and crude statements, he still put up with them because that's what friends did; accept each other.

But like all giants, Jace could be just as fearsome as they are when they were angry, and "angry" didn't even begin to describe the words he was spitting out of his mouth. Ethan stood there, shocked at the things his friends were saying. It was one, big, fat reality check. It didn't surprise him when Jace ended his vitriol-filled speech by flinging a plate to the nearest wall at full force.

The young man was left speechless. His eyes averted the gaze of everyone else's, looking down at his feet instead. He really wasn't in any position to agree or disagree with what everything had said, and he definitely didn't want to be on the receiving end of Jace's temper. He couldn't help but think that if that were Preston hanging dead, he probably would've reacted in the same way...

Silence made itself known to the room again, Ethan dared not to utter a word.
 
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She swore all that she could think of was that alligator that ate the clock in Peter Pan. The ominous tick-tock making you wonder what direction your demise was coming from. Worse yet, maybe the Tell-tale Heart? Was that the one with the deathclocks in the walls? Marten was for once extremely time-centric. Maybe Kindall was rubbing off on her. They were supposed to find a key or something right? So that they could get out of this place?

Assuming that was Ana, couldn't they be upset once they were even able to get out? She understood the high emotion and all, but damn! Jace was speaking logic without even listening to himself! Yes, they were in freaking Opposite Land! For all we know, we're all damn dead and Ana's the one who came looking for us. Yes, they were playing the Game of Life with Jigsaw, and yes, they probably should take Ana with them if they wanted something to give her parents. All well and fucking dandy, except they were still in the exact same spot.

They were no closer to home than Ana was. Was her spirit even allowed to leave this messed up place? There were so many variables at play, the grunette got a brief understanding of why Milton always seemed to be under duress. Thinking all the time hurt, but thinking deeply was just a form of torture. She needed to be a sassy black woman for like 15 seconds. Just long enough to boom an order and have every stand at attention. There was no way she was getting past the wild-Jace that had just appeared otherwise.

Oh the fuck well, she had to give it a shot anyway. Standing she did her best to wipe the grimace off her face. If she was dying, then she would be sans wrinkles damn it. And it was way too far past Give-a-Fuck o'clock to make her voice more pleasant. Gruffly she barked, "Shut up! Pull your shit together!" If anyone cared to pay attention, they were in a irritatingly eerie rendition of their hometown that was about as welcoming as Silent Hill! This bitch-fest needed to end now. This was psychological warfare.

"If you want to carry her Jace, fine! But we need to go now! We are sitting ducks! If you're done for you, so be it, weather this shit storm for her! If we don't get out, she doesn't get out. Capiche?! Cry and walk if you have to. We'll be your eyes until you can see again. No one is being abandoned. We're finding Jo and Castor and we're going home together!"


It was all or nothing. Of course it was no man left behind. Dead or Alive. Milton was her celery stick, but he needed COMM1000, Public Speaking, like... yesterday. Ethan would help him find his glasses probably. Turning she walked over to her bestest friend in the world, crouching with a sympathetic smile as she reached out a hand, "Come on... Fightingale? Don't cry. We're only halfway through the dungeon. And you know I'm squishy as fuck. Smash pumpkins with me just a little longer? I'll go to the cafe with you... happily."

They just had to find the stinking key that unlocked the door at the end of the level... or something like that. It made sense in her head at least. Oh and they should probably remember pocketKitty. She might be of service... aside from providing their recommended daily dose of thot.
 
Cling. cling. cling.

The sound of approaching bells escaped Kindall’s notice. The young man was too focused on Jace to worry about anything else. Anger was such a volatile emotion and seeing Jace this livid made him apprehensive. Milton had no idea what his friend might do in this situation although he hoped the the guy won’t resort to physical violence to enforce his point.

Unable to convince himself to prolong this unnecessary argument, Milton simply sat on the ground beside Ana and ran his fingers through his hair repeatedly. Each time he’d pull out several strands that would fall to the floor and get camouflaged by the browns of the wooden boards. He yanked at his hair one last time then got up.

“Well, ok.” He said finally. “I won’t stop you. Just don’t let it weigh you down if we need to run.”

He didn’t bother elaborating further, believing that Jace understood what he meant. Dying a martyr wasn’t worth it. He believed that they’d be able to retrieve the body afterwards despite what Jace said earlier. Disposing of a corpse wasn’t easy. No matter how small you chop it up, there’d be evidence of the attempt. Bloodstains for one and a misplaced body part. Usually a severed finger, hand or foot.

“Let’s stick together after leaving this room,” he instructed his friends.

He didn’t have to say anything else because Marten started rallying the rest. Slowly but surely, she managed to nudge Kelsey and London out of their stupor. A warm fuzzy feeling rose in his chest. He couldn’t help admiring her even more. He was really proud of her for stepping up and taking charge. Trusting her to lead Kelsey, London and Jace, he turned towards the two remaining people in the room - Ethan and the world’s smallest woman. He eyed Kitty apprehensively before deciding that handling her wasn’t worth the risk. He didn’t want to be slapped with a molest charge if his fingers brushed against her chest or her waist accidentally. He broke eye contact and headed towards Ethan instead.

“Ready to go? You’ve been kinda quiet.” He observed. “Hope you aren’t in too much pain.”

He felt really confused all of a sudden. For some strange reason, he believed Ethan was injured. He suspected he might have seen it happen before his mind went blank. He frowned briefly. Was that how he got knocked out? He wrecked his brains again. He could see a cosy library in his mind’s eye. The image was replaced by one of utter destruction. The wide shelves were toppled over or smashed up. Loose pages and opened books were scattered all over the floor. The doors had seen better days. Who was fighting there? Was Ethan involved? He couldn’t help wondering. He brushed his thoughts aside once again. No point worrying over something he couldn’t solve immediately. They were still in danger and helping them escape this hellhole should be his priority.

“I could use your help too …” He trailed off as his eyes turned towards Kitty again. “I’m not sure how we can help her until she returns to her normal size.”

Cling. cling. cling.

The sound seemed to be coming from behind the closed double doors. Kindall heard it this time and swiveled to look at their only exit. A tensed silence greeted him in return. He wasn’t even aware he was holding his breath until he gasped for air.

Thump. thump. thump.

Heavy pounding replaced the soft bells. The force behind each thump made the doors shudder violently. Kindle began motioning to Marten and London. “Come towards me!” He mouthed. He hoped they’d move quickly because the doors were starting to buckle.

Crack!

Marten was standing halfway between him and the doors when wood chips began flying everywhere. Half the door collapsed onto the ground as thick green vines shot into the room. One of them wrapped itself firmly around Milton’s foot and dangled him upside down. He trashed about to no avail. A second vine circled his waist. A third one was around his chest. Bit by bit he was being stuffed into a writhing cocoon. The rest of group suffered the same fate. Ana was the first to be completely wrapped up but Milton wasn’t too far behind. He was already buried up to his chest. His arms and legs were bound so tightly that they were starting to turn numb.

Cling. cling. cling.

The sound of bells was accompanied by a shrill cackling. Their orange nemesis had returned! Dressed in a Mad Hatter’s costume, the small pumpkin rode into the room on a yellow ostrich-like bird. Silver bells jangled merrily from the reins around the bird’s neck with each step. The evil pumpkin seemed very amused at their predicament. He continued cackling as he rode around the room to inspect his prisoners. He paused long enough in front of London to blow a raspberry. He waved bye bye after that and made his way towards Kelsey.
 
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London had never seen Jace angry. Irritated, exasperated, and tired, sure, but certainly not angry enough to hit someone. Things had fallen apart so quickly. All she could hear over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears were the three familiar voices arguing back and forth. Nearby Ethan spoke, but she failed to register the words.

She didn't blame any of them; How did one react to the world's biggest shitshow? Sobbing from a distance while praying to a God one formerly doubted was one way, because that's what London did.

If Ana was dead, they were next.

Through the cacophony of loud voices came Marten, even louder. How she managed to sound so uplifting while kicking everyone's ass with her words was beyond London, but it helped a little. Her cries faded into wet hiccups and sniffles. Then Marten crouched beside her. Reminded her of the name Fightingale and what that meant. London didn't feel like a warrior anymore - not with Ana dead and the party on the verge of a permanent wipe out - but telling Marten that felt wrong. She wanted her best friend to keep smiling. She couldn't help but laugh at the image of Marten happily strolling into the "hipster" cafe she so loathed. It seemed almost as absurd an idea as the house of horrors they were stuck in.

"Okay," she wiped her eyes, despite it not doing much good, and took Marten's hand.

Cling. Cling. Cling.

London looked towards the door as she stood. Instinctively, her hand tightened around Marten's.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her eyes widened. She felt rooted to the spot until the sound of cracking wood prompted her to move. Either that or Marten; London didn't know who started running first. They made it about halfway to Kindall when the door split open and writhing vines attacked. "Ana- Kindall!" London let go of Marten's hand in effort to reach for him despite the distance, but vines had wrapped around her legs and thighs. She toppled to the floor.

The others were out of reach but Marten wasn't. She was right there.

With vines now wrapping around her waist tight enough to be a second corset, London reached for her best friend. Grabbed the vines at her hips and pulled with a yell. The plants fell away from Marten temporarily only for another wave to crash into both girls relentlessly. By time the vines reached her shoulders, London started crying again.

And then she froze.

An evil, squeaky cackle rang through the room and she stared as the miniature pumpkin strolled in on an odd yellow bird. Rage licked at her insides but, more than that, fear. "No, no, no, no..." she breathed, trying to angle herself in front of Marten to no avail. Her body had gone numb.

This was it. They were going to die. London would lose all of her friends in one fell swoop and there was nothing she could do to save them or herself. It sickened her but her mother's fake head was right: She wouldn't be coming back. Though, if she had the opportunity to return to Bellwoods without her friends, London... wouldn't want to.

Stopping in front of her, the miniature pumpkin blew a raspberry and London flinched, expecting something more harmful. They were at the creature's mercy right now. When no act of violence came she looked up in time to see it wave farewell. Watched as it headed towards Kelsey.

Kelsey, the one who saw Peter before anyone else.

Kelsey, the one who dedicated the last decade to finding Him.

Kelsey, the one who started it all.

London would have cried out - begged the miniature pumpkin to stop, to turn around and leave her alone - but the vines had grown so tight on her chest that she could hardly utter a pathetic, "Please."
 
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A loud voice shook Ethan from his stupor, he darted his head from left to right, trying to process what was just said. It was Marten, he truly had to admire the girl's pluck, when she says the things on her mind people know that shit is getting real. He looked in awe, dumbstruck at her half-aggressive, half-wholesome impassioned speech.

With her raw, emotional talks, Ethan wonders how she ever got a guy who has his head so far up in his ass like Milton to love her back. And speaking of the devil himself, he seemed to have gotten his composure back, at least for the time being. When he spoke to him, it felt like building a set of walls, trying to protect his vulnerable, little self.

He laughed, trying to hide how nervous he was, scratching the back of his head. "Y-Yeah! I'm tough as nails! I can get through this!" He exclaimed. Ethan scoffed when Milton asked if he was in any pain, it was funny...He probably wouldn't have even remembered he was injured unless Milton brought it up.

"O-Oh...Sure...Sure!" He looked down at Kitty, trying to figure out how in the hell is he gonna be able to assist her like Milton suggested. Is she going to piggyback, clinging for dear life as they all ran away from whatever next horror was going to pop up next? Ethan picked her up like she was a piece of fine china, taking extra care to not hurt her. "This is some pervo's sick-ass fetish, I just know it is..."

He muttered to himself as he stuffed her inside his jacket's breast pocket, asking if she was comfortable. Putting her inside one of his pockets seemed an option as well...if he wanted her to suffocate to death.

An ominous sound resonated from beyond. A loud thumping that resonated throughout the room. That was a cue if there ever was one, a cue to GTFO.

NOW!

Too late. Again, too late.

They barely had any time to react before the Orange Menace made himself known to them again. Of course when he was there, he had to bring company. "Tentacles, again? Really?!" At this point he was pretty much sure that this little pint-sized pumpkin pest had some sort of raging erection for tentacle porn.

Ethan attempted to fend them off to no avail, what was supposed to be an attempt to kick one of the vines ended with the deceptively dexterous vine lashing out at him, cracking like a whip and serving a stinging blow. Once he let his guard down, more of the vine whips pelted him with an assault of blows until the pain had let him relent. The vegetation constricting both him and the miniature Kitty. He had to fight until the end, Ethan struggled even as the vines wrapped him, trying to thrash about and escape.

When the miniature pumpkin made its way to Kelsey, Ethan immediately began to protest. "Don't you dare lay a finger on her!" He shouted to high heaven. "I swear..." Dimly, he felt aware of a strangling, slithery, sensation around his neck. His breathing was turning for the worst. "Y-You..." He gagged. "St-Sto..."
 
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"Who the fuck asked you?!" Jace barked as he whirled around the face the green-haired girl. For a moment, he maintained the hardened glare he'd been giving Milton; however, his gaze softened and fell to the floor. While he remained angry at the connotation associated with her words, he felt ashamed to have snapped at her so. His mother had always taught him to be polite, even courtly to women. He had always made a point to treat them with respect, especially those he was friends with, but the way he treated Marten just now? He felt ashamed.

"Sorry.." The apology was soft, barely audible even, but at least he had apologized. Right? He was just so caught in the heat of anger and fraught emotion that he didn't stop to think about who he was about to verbally attack. Marten seemed like she was trying hard to maintain her composure, which made the guilt worse. He might have offered an apologetic hug, but he dared not move away from where he stood beside Ana. Jace didn't want to throw accusations, he was wary of Milton for wanting to leave her behind, and didn't trust him not to take her away again. If not Milton, then surely he would.

Jace crouched beside Ana with little more than a huff at Milton. He didn't need his permission to carry one of his best friends, whether she was dead or not. He wouldn't leave her. It didn't matter what happened. With a ginger swipe of his hand, Jace fixed Ana's hair then proceeded to figure out the best way to carry her. Bridal style was the most respectful; although, it wasn't the most efficient. Perhaps it would be best to carry her piggy-back? He just hoped that her body wouldn't be stuck that way, what with rigor mortis and all.

A soft jingling gave Jace pause. He lifted his head, glancing around in search of the source. The sound, which apparently came from behind the closed double doors behind him, was followed subsequently by a series of heavy thuds. The doors shook in their frame from the force of the impact and cracks scribbled their away across the splintering wooden surfaces. It was just like back in the library, when the vines were forcing their way in. Had the vines returned? Unfortunately, neither Michael nor Charlotte was there to show them a place to hide this time.

"Kels.." Jace stood and took a cautious step towards her, arm extended to push her protectively behind him. The doors gave way much more quickly than the library doors had, but then these doors didn't have a pile of shelves and books blocking them. The vines shot towards them, grabbing Ana and Milton first. Ana was quickly cocooned in the slithering green tendrils; Milton had been turned upside down though he wasn't far behind her.

"Kelsey!" Before he could lunge towards her, Jace's legs were pulled out from under him. Vines wound their way around his feet and ankles. He kicked, putting up as much of a fight as he could to delay being consumed by them. The jingling came again, and this time he could see the source. It was the tiny pumpkin riding.. was that a bird? Jace's brows shot upward only to furrow as the tiny douchebag started towards his sister.

"NO! KELS!" A mix of burning anger, passion, and determination flared up inside Jace. In spite of the vines working their way up his thighs, he began to drag himself towards them. The vines made this incredibly difficult, constantly snaring his wrists in attempt to bind his arms. Jace shook them off, digging his nails into the floorboards and dragging little trails into the wood every time the vines pulled him back. His nails did not appreciate the strain and rewarded him with sharp pains for his efforts. A few bled where they started to tear away from the nail beds and one came off altogether.

"You. Little. Bastard!" Jace seethed between heaving breaths. Once he got close enough, he grabbed at the pumpkin. The little sadist whacked his hand with the croquet mallet with a decent crack. "OW!" Jace pulled back, wiggled his burning fingers, and tried again. His fingers wrapped around the yellow bird. He gave it a squeeze and jerked it towards him. The tiny pumpkin jumped off, hitting his hand with the mallet again and sticking out his tongue. The bird burst into a pile of yellow petals.

"What?" Jace blinked incredulously. There wasn't time to process this. He reached out again, this time for Kelsey. The vines wrestled his arms into their constricting hold and tangled into his wild hair. He looked to Kelsey with sad eyes that again welled with tears. He failed her just like he failed Ana. He failed them all.

"You can't save them."

"You can't save them."

"You can't save them."
 
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Marten's optimism was lost on her. The grunette could say whatever she wanted to, but things would stay the same and Ana would still be dead. Grief and anger melded together until they were one and the same, and Kelsey would have lashed out at Marten, had Jace failed to do so first. She and Jace had known Ana since they were seven, had lived through almost the entirety of their lives in such close proximity that the girl was more than just a childhood friend - she was their sister.

She was their sister and now she was dead.

Everything else was a blur, Kindle's protests, London's tears, even Marten's attempts to rally the troops and get them out of the Nightmare that was Not-Red-Copper.

Even if they made it home, what would they do after? What would they tell Ana's parents? How the fuck were they supposed to just bury this and move on? Just thinking about an after was so suffocating that the jingling of bells ended up falling on deaf ears. It wasn't until the door blew open that Kelsey pulled herself back to the present.

The door caved inward, splinters showered the room, and vines came pouring in relentlessly. "Jace, no." The words spilled out without a second thought when her friend stepped in front of her. Ana had died because of her. She couldn't allow the same to happen to Jace or any of her other friends. Kelsey hated how powerless she was to protect anyone. She talked the talk and dragged them on silly adventures, but now that they'd gotten actually gotten themselves caught up in something strange, she could do nothing. Jack shit. Nothing.

So she watched as Kindle was dangled into the air, as London and Marten were torn apart, and as Jace was pummeled with a mallet and dragged viciously across the wooden floor.

"Stop it! Leave them alone! Leave my friends alone!" Useless words uttered by a trembling girl with not an ounce of power to her name. "Don't... don't hurt them. Please, just don't hurt them."

The miniature pumpkin and his faithful steed didn't listen.

Ana was wrapped into a cocoon. Ethan was lifted into the air. Jace was hit again, and then he was screaming... something about her?

The miniature pumpkin hopped into the air before landing right in front of Kelsey. He crouched down and kicked her feet out from under her, and when Kelsey fell, the others could do nothing but watch as the floorboards beneath her crumbled and as she disappeared into the sea of darkness below.

The miniature pumpkin blew a final raspberry at the terrified friends before the vines entangled them all. Eventually, it would grow dark and their grassy prisons would swallow them whole.

.
.
.

The darkness surrounding them dissipated, and before the group could do anything, they were spat out of giant flowers and high up into the air. It was a scene reminiscent to that of Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole, except they were getting shot higher and higher. Like a glitchy video game, the scenery changed once more before they finally hit a solid surface.

It was paper...

They were too disoriented to realize it at first, but they'd fallen against the pages of a giant book. Beneath them were ominous lines from a rather famous novelist.

"Seven children chopping up sticks; One chopped himself in halves and then there were six.
Six little children playing with a hive; A bumblebee stung one and then there were five."

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"Excuse me, you're interrupting my reading. It's rather rude to walk on somebody else's book" The book they were standing on was perched on a giant's lap, to be specific, giant Salem's lap. The boy was seated on a worn-out rocking chair, but aside from that, nothing else seemed to exist. There was just Salem, his book, and darkness for miles and miles. "What are you doing here?" He frowned. "Didn't you promise you would help save my sister and my family?"

There was a brief pause.

"I've been reading And Then There Were None. Have any of you read it? It's a very good book, this line right here." He pointed to the text beneath their feet. "It suits the situation you're all in rather well, doesn't it? Seven then six then five. Almost like a countdown of sorts."
 
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It all happened so fast: The screaming; the loss of Kelsey; the darkness; falling towards the sky. When her mind caught up with the situation, she was laying against a paper floor with familiar, ominous words. She recognized the writing from her English classes. And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie, as Salem - Salem? - said above them.

London turned to stare up at a giant, very much alive, Salem Hayes. They'd seen him turn to stone - he was gone. This wasn't the real Salem. The real Salem would have offered help instead of liken their situation to a countdown... But he wasn't wrong. The nightmare had begun with seven, eight including Jo, and now they were down to five. London brought shaking hands to her face.

Five.

She repeated Marten's words of encouragement in her head because if she didn't, she would not be able to stand again, never mind the cumbersome dress weighing her down. Truth be told, she didn't know how to stand at this point; London feared asking questions about Kelsey, much less anything else. With Kelsey missing, they couldn't anger Him again unless they wanted to see her hanging from a noose, too.

The thought made her throat tighten. Being angry was so much easier than being brave, but it had made her reckless.

It would make them all reckless.

London looked to the angriest person of the room - Jace - and frowned. Her heart bled for him, but lashing out would make things worse - especially if he aimed it at the fake Salem - and she did not want to see another person die. Doubted Jace, as strong of a guy as he was, could handle losing both of his childhood friends. She had to get to him before the dawning of losing Kelsey triggered more tragedy. Like Marten had with her, London needed to bring someone else to their feet.

Try to, at least. She didn't have her best friend's charisma and London had always been much better at listening.

Using her katana to pull herself up - the hoops around her legs were obnoxious - she made her way over to him. Tapped his shoulder and opened her mouth to speak, only to have nothing to say. What did one say in this situation? How could she make things just a little less shitty before they got even worse?

"Your nails," she noticed the damage and grimaced. The blood and missing fingernail churned her stomach but this was something she could do. Probably. She knew how to use a band-aid; tearing off a few strips of fabric from her dress as makeshift bandages couldn't be too different. Hopefully. Gingerly, she held out a hand for his. "...Can I help?"

They couldn't drop to four.
 
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It was so easy to be upset in situations like this. So fucking easy. Which was, if for no other reason, why Marten smiled. Easy was always a test. Always. Life was just like that. Those cookies you weren't supposed to eat right in front of your face? Too easy. Binge-watching cartoons in your birthday suit forsaking all others? Too easy. Being overcome by your emotions instead getting the hell up and moving on? Wayyy too easy. For most people, and she understood. She just couldn't condone. Never could she take it easy, and man was it damn hard sometimes.

For instance when it shattered your beautifully crafted expectations. Jace was supposed to be her supermodel, Tarzan man-friend. Wise beyond his years and sage. What Yoda secretly looked like in his jolly, green youth! And then it turned out he had the foresight of a hare and a real blind-rage problem. What's worse? She could not further exercise her right to call him on his bullshit, alongside Milton of course who also lacked mental flexibility and the capacity to update his own sense of reality at will. Tragic. Why? Because motherfucking pumpkins, that's why! Thank you, Samuel L. Jackson!

"Oh, I hate you." She wheezed with all the darkness she possessed, glaring at its vacant smile. It wasn't much, but considering it was directed at a... vegetable? A gourd, dear. A gourd. She'd count it fine. This stupid gourd ruined everything at every turn. Tentacles continued to wrap and crush against her frame, making tears well up again into her eyes. She was going to be a gaggle of bruises by the time she got back to her dorm room. Plants were supposed to be nice and soft. She gardened. She knew. These were not plants. Demon plants maybe, that made more sense. Not one to be deterred especially when angry, she still managed to get out a last shout before she was swallowed into darkness, "You'll never be a real boy!"

Her grandma's wisdom rang in her head. And her legs hurt. She tried to follow the advice of her elders. She could understand where most of Jace and all her friends' collective insecurities came from even if only just a little bit. So she tried to pass it on with a smile. Cause it helped. It really did. However, with everyone's life in the balance... Time got really freaking short, which meant plan B. Beat it into them with great persistence.

A book? A countdown? Why count down if you know where you've been? Don't you want to know where you're going... Poor Alice. And she'd thought Wonderland looked so cool. Mostly because Johnny Depp still looked hot even in gaudy makeup. It was secretly hellish, and yes, they all had to be mad to be able to live there. Then again she was plenty mad. They all were. Maybe not quite crazy, but more in a fucking livid kind of way... Scratch that, there was a little crazy in there, but she wasn't going to point any fingers. cough literallyallofus cough Hm, Tourettes'?

Enough of that though. "Hey, birdbrain, you seen a key? Also a door for that key." She'd ask as she stood, rubbing some feeling aside from pain into her limbs. She was very much discontent to continue giving reactionary responses. Be aggressive! Be, BE AGGRESSIVE!
 
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"I couldn't save her. Nita was right. I couldn't save her." This thought echoed in Jace's rattled mind, his fake sister's head's words still ringing in his ears. In spite of the darkness inside the cocoon of vines, he could see Kelsey falling through the floor. The image repeated constantly, like a GIF, forever looping back to the beginning every time it ended. He could even see the tiny pumpkin laughing, as if all of this was some cruel joke.

Jace hardly had the presence of mind to differentiate the talking head that resembled his sister wasn't his sister, let alone notice that the darkness around him was fading away. Before he knew what was happening, he was flying up, up, up into the air. He tumbled head over heels through the air higher still before descending. The world around him was a blur of darkness, not that he could see very well with his hair in his face. As far as he knew, there was no ground; or if there was, it was so far away that the impact would kill them when they finally landed. Yet, he crashed into something suddenly and inexplicably, his spinning falling motion finally halted. He wasn't dead.

Pushing himself up, he tossed his hair from his face. They had landed on paper, as was evident from the texture and the fact that there were words on it. The words were unfamiliar to Jace, as he had never read anything by Agatha Christie that he could recall. A familiar voice made his blood run cold, and he slowly looked up to see none other than Salem. How was this even possible? He had watched the boy turn to stone. He had even felt it as Salem passed him the half of his bird pin; but there he was, looking down at them all. The giant book they had landed on was sitting on his even more gigantic lap.

"But you.." Jace murmured. Did he bring Salem back? They had freed him, though. Was this even Salem? Or had Salem not really died? What did that mean for the others? For Ella? For Ana? "Ella... Ella's gone. So is Wendy." The words were little more than a whisper that the giant man child likely couldn't even hear. "Just like Ana.. and now Kelsey.."

Salem's comparison of their experience to the book he was reading hurt. It made it sound like they were just going to be picked off, one by one, and were powerless to do anything about it. If that was the case, he hoped that Peter would take him next. He couldn't live with the guilt of watching his friends be taken, unable to help them. Jace sank to sit on the page, robe strewn around him in every which direction. He turned his head slowly to look at London. His eyes were sad, lids red from tears; he looked tired, like he'd been through a hell house.

"Why bother?" Jace wanted to ask. He wanted to brush her off; however, he couldn't bring himself to. "..Sure." He extended his bruised hand to her. How odd that he didn't even feel the nails pulling away, that he didn't notice he'd lost one. Perhaps it was all the pain from having his hand smacked with a mallet? Jace wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be broken from the way it throbbed. He could hardly move his fingers.

"Thanks."