Lisha watched as Michael craned his head up to look at the ceiling. They had known that they were being watched almost from the beginning and it pissed her off to no end, knowing that that guy was getting off on puréeing their last nerves. "Hey," he called nervously. His voice was just loud enough that she hoped the microphones could pick it up, yet soft enough so not to disturb the others. "We've...we've made our decision."

Oh finally, the voice replied remarkably fast. Do you realize how long I've been sitting here, waiting for you people to do something besides hug, cry, and whisper how everything will be okay. You are disgusting, insolent creatures, you know that? You'd think the lack and food and water would be a dead give away at your own hopelessness...but no...

If Lisha wasn't playing the kidnapper's game, she would have found a way to throttle him. Well, conceivably...if she had a way to throttle him, a lot of their current problems wouldn't be relevant, and she and Michael wouldn't be offering their souls to the devil of South Hampton, Pennsylvania. "It's been one day," Lisha muttered at the floor.

Has it? The voice laughed snarkily. How can you know? Hmm how can you really know? My clock says you've been gone from society for a little over forty eight hours. Honestly Darling, it takes just as long to make a missing person's report relevant.

Forty eight hours? They've been gone for two days? Her stomach twisted as she tried not to look back at the others. Two days....it was a miracle they hung on that long. The cold was stanching the spread of infection... but it also weakened their immune systems. No one in the room could afford to get sick... and with the cold, and all the spilled blood and open wounds...it was a disaster in a disaster waiting to happen.

And that guy knew it.

Yet he continued with the small talk like their personal predicaments was some sort of soothing cello music he listened to before going to sleep. So I heard that Ian friend of yours...he plays trumpet, yes? Yes. Such an interesting kid, he is....has an unusually low tolerance for thin blades though. Shame what depression does to teenagers these days, honestly makes my job a little harder. I like the ones like Ian, the ones that beg.

"Stay away from him, you creep," Mike spat.

But he wasn't done. I honestly did you two a favor with Abbie. I didn't exactly plan to shoot her, but she just had to be difficult. Tsk tsk. No respect. I mean, if she and Ian had switched places, even if it was by chance, she'd be dead by now. Probably by her own hand too, as you probably know.

"Shut up," Lisha hissed as Michael curled his hands into fists.

Oh please you know it's true. I gave Ian that option as well, he could take his life right now and save one of you the trouble. But still he defies.....it's admirable to an extent. You know Abbie would have seized the first chance she got.

"No!" Michael snapped. "Stop pretending like you know us. You don't know anything about us!"

I know you two go to bed every night, worrying she won't text you back in the morning.

Lisha's hand flew up to clamp her mouth. It was one of their most deeply guarded secrets...no one outside of their group of five and a few select adults knew about Abbie, and even Tony and Ian didn't know how deep the problem got sometimes. Lisha did get worried when her texts weren't returned... this guy was a stalker on top of everything else. What else could he know?

"Stop pretending like you know us," Michael repeated angrily.

Honestly I don't know why you haven't asked about Ian yet --

Maybe it's because you aren't giving us any chances to talk, you dipwad, Lisha thought sourly.

Are you guys mad that he made you go out in the fist place? I mean, if you really think about it....you all wouldn't be here if it weren't for his thoughtless suggestion. You would all be safe, unharmed, asleep...life would be normal and I'd just be here with my quote unquote roommate and the pet snake and the body we keep in closet so the snake has company. Honestly, we would all have a lot fewer decisions to make if Ian had just not wanted to go to the diner...I mean Ian himself is half decent company, but his blood gets all over the place, you know?

"Just shut up," Michael muttered. "We've done what you wanted. We've decided who.....who l-lives."

Oh good job! The voice chided, seeming to get overly excited. Is Ian one of them? I'll do you a favor if Ian is one of them. I always wanted to kill a trumpet player.

"No. Ian is NOT one of them," Michael growled against his lips. Lisha glanced back at Tony and Abbie. The guard girl was turning in her sleep; either of them could wake up at any moment. They had to do this fast.

"It's me and him," she choked out. "Just let Abbie, Ian, and Tony go, and we'll come with you and...and..." she covered her mouth with her hand to smother a sob. She could feel the heat rise to her face as new tears ran small rivers down her cheeks. It wasn't fair. Michael tried to keep his poker face as he rested a hand on her shoulder, but his eyes gave it all away. He was resigned to his fate, but it still terrified him.

Aww come on! Where's the betrayal!? The drama! The trumpet hero waking up alone, abandoned by his closest friends, except for the mystery body so beaten that he can't identify it.

Lisha promptly came to the conclusion that their kidnapper had some personal vendetta against trumpet players.....or just really wanted Ian to die. He couldn't possibly have been that annoying, in such a short amount of time. "You're sick, " she decided.

Honestly it's a little too warm for me me to be sick, but thank you for your concern. The garbled voice paused for a moment, then sighed. Oh well, a deal's a deal, I didn't have the time to write out a contract in your blood, so this is acceptable, I suppose. I'm of my word. There was loud grind of metal on metal as a hatch in the ceiling swung open and two standard hardware store hammers dropped down in a crash against the concrete. The voice seemed almost dismissive as he said. Make it fast, so I can drop the other three off at the police station before the sun goes up.

Lisha swallowed hard and tried to speak, but every time she opened her mouth no words came out. Everyone has seen a hammer a thousand times, yet never before had such a simple tool seemed so sinister. "What?"

Go on. Kill yourselves or kill each other. I'll leave it up to you. Like I said earlier, two of you have to be dead before anyone leaves this building.

A/n
Sorry for long wait. My tablet hates me. It just does.

So....who's your favorite character? The dart board already decided everyone's fate so you don't have to worry about it.

Yes Rissa, I know, Tony is bae.

WOOOO HALLOWEEN CWC PARTY TOMORROW!

Who's going trick or treating and what are you going as?

What should I call the followers of this story?

#Deathtrumpet