Locked In

There was only one rule: don’t open the door.

I’ve never been interested in spooky games, haunted houses or anything of the scary sort, really. I’ve always been easier to convince after a few shots of tequila, though. Hence, I stood in a dark, tiny room with two doors, directly opposite each other, waiting for the “game". My friends were in rooms on either side of me.

I had no idea which door was forbidden, but it soon became clear when the scratches started from the back, followed by banging, howling and the door near coming off its hinges, being hacked apart with an axe.

This was supposed to be fun, but it wasn’t funny. I wanted out. I grabbed the front door handle and pulled with all my might, just as the back door fell behind me.

I never had a chance to scream as the needle plunged into my neck.

*

I’m not sure where I am, but my friends, they’re here too. I’m strapped to a table with sheets covering my naked body. There’s a window in the door, through which I see tears in Donna’s eyes, and Paul comforting her. I hear someone say, “she had a heart attack.”

I know that’s a lie, but I can’t tell them.

I can’t speak. Can’t move. There's red liquid flowing through tubes attached to my limbs. Are they draining my blood? I’m not dead! Don’t they know?

Why can’t I scream?

I feel my body weakening. Tears flow from my eyes, staining my cheeks. It’s cold, so cold.

I watch, helplessly, as my friends mourn. Can’t they see me shiver? Hear me cry? Don’t they know I’m not dead.

Can’t they just open the damn door?