One month later
As sat on her bed staring at the newspaper, eyes dulled, mimicking the emptiness inside of her soul. Flashbacks paraded in her mind, painfully reenacting the gruesome scenes over and over like a play. Moving only her eyes to the clock she began to stare, reminiscing over that night while comparing seconds to centuries. Every moment felt like an eternity as the memories began to flood her mind bringing her back. Her eyes shut as she pictured her mother screaming at her to run from the red gas. She ****** the bomb, but she held more hatred in her heart for herself, she should have stayed, should have protected her family from them. While she was running away, she looked back and saw that there was a group wearing blue Aztec masks that covered everything but their eyes. Each held a different type of gun, some almost looking like swords. Regina had no clue why they had let her live, maybe it was was some kind of torment, and that’s why they came every night at nine o’clock, or she was part of some wicked kind of experiment that you’d hear about on the news.
Staring at the Victorian white and gold clock, her eyes drifted from the painted pink roses in the middle to the black vine shaped hands, Regina noticed that it was 8:30, and as per usual, she began to prepare. Pulling her black pistol out from under her bed she shoved it into the black leather holster that she had previously attached to her waist. Pulling her special gas-proof gloves over her hands, she pulled her lightweight black mask that filtered out any toxicities in the air as well as protected the rest of her face. She had modified all of her clothing to protect her from gas, and the majority had minor bullet protection as well as sturdy fabric that wouldn’t tear rip or be cut through without a great deal of force.
Adjusting her black mesh long-sleeved shirt and thin black leggings, she got up, pulled her hair into a high bun, all the while walking to the middle of the town. She remembered the night that this started. She had walked straight into to town the day after the massacre. There were corpses all over the ground and she covered her eyes, not able to bear the agony of looking at the remnants of all her former friends and family. She walked up to the town’s grand longcase clock, which bore a note. It felt like it was yesterday to Regina as she recalled gingerly picking it up and reading it. The note read:
“Hey, let’s play a little game,
it’ll be fun so what’s the shame,
Every night at nine pm,
we’ll have fun making mayhem.
Make it to the edge or you’ll be,
dead before you can even scream.
This little game is hard to win
because it only ends when one player lives.
Kill us five or you will see,
it won’t be fun for you tee-hee!”
She didn’t have time to process what she had just read before an axe came flying at her head. She barely dodged it before catching a glimpse of a blue mask peeking at her from above. In the brief moment, she saw the figure and it felt like she sank into emptiness. As the world faded away, she quickly saw an image of a ladder flicker before her eyes, and then she jolted back into reality.