Blood was spreading across the floor, and I couldn't decide if I should worry about whether it was fresh or just go straight into full-blown panic mode. Humans really are fascinating.
"Is that—?" Trust Issues doubled over, retching onto the concrete.
"Yeah, it's blood. Keep up, genius." I yanked him upright just as a dragging sound echoed behind us. Slow. Deliberate. My pulse spiked.
"We need to move," I hissed, pulling him behind a massive pillar.
"Move? I'm barely standing!" he whispered back, clutching his stomach.
I yank Trust Issues to his feet, dragging him with me, barely glancing back as we rush behind one of the massive pillars. There's no time to think. I just need to stay hidden in this hellhole.
The dragging sound gets closer, each scrape of whatever it is sending a shiver down my spine. Trust Issues is still retching and wobbling like a newborn deer, and isn't exactly the most helpful partner right now.
I peek around the pillar, just enough to catch a glimpse of the source of the dragging noise. It's a person—or at least, I think it is. It's the kind of sight you'd expect in a horror movie, right before the creepy music kicks in. Only, I don't hear any music.
"What the hell is that?" Mr. Trust Issues whispered, his voice shaking.
"Shut up," I snapped with just the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears. I try to make as little noise as possible, but it's hard when every creak of the floor and every gasp from Trust Issues sounds like a thunderclap in the silence. The shape is humanoid, but everything about it feels off. I see two ears, but the rest is a blur. A man? A woman? It's hard to tell. They're wearing a bunny costume, but not the cute, fluffy kind. No, this is something else—more like lingerie, skintight, the kind of outfit that makes you feel like you've crossed into a nightmare rather than a party. It's too much, too unsettling.
"Is... is that a bunny suit?" he whispered, voice trembling.
"Shhh!" I turned back, trying to process the twisted joke life had decided to play.
I can barely hold back a sigh of frustration. Of course, it's a serial killer. Why wouldn't it be? No, not just any serial killer—this one's got to have a twisted sense of humor. Why settle for the usual menacing hoodie or mask when you can wear a creepy, perverted bunny costume like it's some kind of sick joke? I roll my eyes, cursing my luck. Why couldn't we get a normal killer? One who at least knows how to be frightening without looking like a bad costume idea gone horribly wrong.
The thing bunny man was dragging finally comes into view—a figure hogtied with rope. My breath hitches as I realized it wasn't an "it." It was a woman. Her eyes were closed, her body limp, and I prayed she was just unconscious.
"Please tell me she's alive," Trust issues whispered.
I didn't answer. Her limp form and the blood trail said enough.
Then, the figure stopped. His head snapped down to the bloody mess we'd left behind. That's when it suddenly dawns on me that we are so screwed. The footprints on the floor? Real subtle. He whips his head toward us. My stomach drops as he turns, scanning the room with hawk-like precision.
"Great," I mutter. "He knows we're here."
Before I could think of a plan, Trust Issues shoves me. Oh, of course, betrayal at its finest. Why wouldn't my so-called ally be the first to stab me in the back? Trust Issues, in all his glory, then sprints for the other side like he's got a gold medal to win. What was I expecting? A loyal teammate? Ha, silly me. Lesson learned: next time, it's just me, myself, and I. No more tag-team train wrecks.
"What the—? You coward!" I hissed, scrambling to keep hidden.
The bunny man's head whips toward the sound of his footsteps. Perfect. Just perfect. I'm dead. There's no other way to put it. I was seconds away from being hogtied like some sadistic prize, and then—oh, joy—I made eye contact with the bunny man. He looks at me, and for a split second, I think maybe, just maybe, he'll not notice me. Nope. Instead, he lets go of the rope and starts beelining towards me, like he's just realized he forgot to buy milk or something.
Maybe I should say something clever, like "You know, I expected better from a guy in a bunny costume," but nah, I'm not in the mood for one-liners. I'm just waiting for the inevitable.
But then, right when he's six inches away from me, the guy pulls off the most ridiculous move I've ever seen. Without warning, he does a full 90-degree turn, like he's in some kind of action movie, and sprints straight toward Mr. Trust Issues instead.
What. The. Hell.
For a moment, my brain just shuts down because, seriously, why? I mean, I was literally this close to becoming his next victim, and then—bam!—he decides my so-called ally is the better target. What kind of twisted plot twist is this? Am I on some hidden camera show? If there's a camera crew, I swear to God, I'm going to flip.
Anyway, there I am, standing like a fool, just watching Mr. Trust Issues book it like he's suddenly running a marathon for his life. Meanwhile, I'm left here completely dumbfounded, wondering what kind of sick joke this is.
I don't know what was more confusing—him sprinting like his life depended on it or the fact that Trust Issues was actually running faster than I've ever seen anyone run in my life. I mean, props to him. Guess all those years of being paranoid finally paid off.
And as if that wasn't enough to throw me into a mental breakdown, the hogtied girl, who I had hoped was either knocked out or too mentally checked out to care, suddenly decides that this is her time to shine and screams like a banshee on a gatorade overdose.
Ah, yes. Someone finally woke up from their beauty sleep. How nice.
So, naturally, I, being the upstanding citizen that I am (unlike someone), decide to make my way over to the girl. Now, I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I'm not exactly an expert in escape artistry. And freeing someone from ropes while they're screaming like they've been possessed by a circus clown is not exactly what I'd call an easy task.
That's when I saw it. A nail. A huge one. Almost the size of my hand, sticking out of the pillar that was about to be my tomb a few seconds ago. I plucked it out like I was in some sick game of DIY survival and used it to slice through her ropes. She immediately falls to the floor, legs like limp noodles, clearly broken. Great. Just what I needed. Because it's not enough that we're both about to die. Now, she's a screaming, broken noodle of a person who can't walk.
Out of nowhere, she blurts out something straight out of a two-bit psychic's script at a kids' carnival: "You're not supposed to be here," followed by a stream of nonsensical gibberish. Yeah, I think it's safe to say she's officially lost her marbles.
"Oh really, Sherlock? You think? I had no idea. Here I was, thinking this was a vacation destination." I tell her with a head shake, trying to process that my life is a dumpster fire, when she does the unthinkable. She starts dragging herself across the floor—not toward the exit, not toward safety, no. She starts dragging herself towards the disembodied sheep. Yeah, that sheep. The one whose body looked like it had been through a blender. She licks the blood. Yes, you read that right. She licks the blood. It's like I stumbled into the middle of a Twilight movie, where instead of vampires and werewolves, I've got deranged serial killers and insane women licking blood off the floor.
But as the saying goes, when the shit hits the fan, it doesn't just stop—it's a full-blown sprinkler system. I'm standing there, trying to stop the smell of blood from turning my stomach inside out, when I hear the pounding of feet. Guess who comes charging straight at me? Mr. Trust Issues himself, sprinting like he's on the last leg of an Olympic relay.
"Move!" he shouts, his voice frantic, like he expects me to just part like the Red Sea.
I don't budge. "What the hell are you doing?" I snap, trying to keep my voice steady. "Where's Bunny Man?"
"Gone!" he pants, wide-eyed. "But he's coming back. I swear, he was right behind me!"
Now, I knew this guy was being chased, but here's the weird part: I couldn't see Bunny Man anywhere behind him. It's like the guy just vanished into thin air or decided to take a coffee break in the shadows. The only light in this godforsaken shed is coming from a grimy window, casting enough moonlight to make everything look like it's straight out of a noir film.
Still, I'm not sticking around to find out if Bunny Man's planning a dramatic reentrance. I start running the opposite way, because self-preservation is the name of the game. But nope, Mr. Trust Issues has legs that seem to be all muscle and no sense. It's like he's got a full-on head start in the genetic lottery, and here I am, sprinting like a caffeinated squirrel. Damn short people. It's like running after a wind-up toy, and guess who's losing the race? He overtakes me in seconds, his panic fueling every step.
"Stop following me!" I yell, dodging a rusty tool bench.
"I thought—" he wheezes, glancing back at me. "I thought you were with him!"
I nearly trip over my own feet. "What?"
"You—you looked calm! Like you knew what was going on!"
I shot him a look so sharp it could cut steel. "Calm? Dude, I was standing there trying not to puke. That's not calm, that's survival mode!"
He stammers something incoherent, and I decide he's either an idiot or suffering from some next-level adrenaline crash. "Oh, so you just assumed I was Team Bunny because I wasn't screaming my head off? Let me guess, next you'll say the saw-wielding maniac is just here to fix the plumbing."
Is he for real? Like, seriously? I mean, I knew this guy wasn't exactly winning any IQ contests, but this? This is next-level stupidity. Did he honestly think he could just pull an excuse out of his ass and I'd go, "Oh, okay, cool, no worries, bro"
"You thought I was what? On his side? Oh, I see. Men will believe aliens built the pyramids before they believe a woman who says she didn't kidnap them!"
His jaw works soundlessly like he's trying to come up with a defense.
But before he could even respond with his excuses—or my sarcasm, Bunny Man decides that now is the perfect time to make his dramatic entrance. And not from behind, like any normal killer would do, but right in front of us. Because, of course, why not make things even more ridiculously impossible?
He comes straight at us, and I spot him before Trust Issues did—probably because Trust Issues was too busy side-eyeing me. And Bunny man was with a saw, guess his little break wasn't for tea but a quick trip to his murder tool shed.
"Run!" I shout, grabbing Mr. Trust Issues' arm and yanking him backward.
Too late. He sprinted right into us, raising the saw dramatically, like he'd just been cast in a low-budget '90s ninja movie, ready to slice us in one swift motion. But, lucky for me, my foot hits a slick patch—blood, of course—and I go down hard. The saw comes swinging, its teeth skimming so close to my head I feel the tug as it takes a chunk of my hair. I hit the ground, gasping, heart hammering in my chest.
Mr. Trust Issues, on the other hand? Not so lucky. Yep, that's the end of our dear "ally." Although, considering he betrayed me earlier, "ally" might be a bit generous.
Did he get sliced in half by a saw? Yes. Did I watch it happen? Also yes—because apparently, when you're falling in slow motion, you get a front-row seat to everything.