CHAPTER 28
I stood there, drenched in sweat, staring at the screen as the colors revealed
themselves one by one. My hands. trembled, clenched tightly into fists as if that could hold me together. The first three colors matched perfectly–red, green, blue.
Then came the fourth: yellow.
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. I had chosen orange. My pulse thundered in my ears. I leaned closer to the screen, willing it
to change, to be wrong.
Mr. M’s voice crackled through the speakers, cold and mocking. “And there it is. So close, yet so far. Tell me, Daphne, how does it feel to kill your own friend?”
I didn’t process his words at first. My eyes were glued to the monitor showing Sue. The cage above her opened, and she screamed as she fell into the pool below.
“No! Sue!” I shrieked, banging my fists
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against the table.
The crocodiles lunged, water thrashing as their jaws snapped shut. Her screams stopped, replaced by the sickening silence of inevitability.
I couldn’t move. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. My chest felt hollow, like someone had ripped out my heart and left nothing but emptiness behind.
“You thought you could win,” Mr. M‘ s voice continued, dripping with satisfaction. “You thought you were smarter than me. But look at you now, Daphne. You‘ re failing, one by one.”
I glared at the screen, anger bubbling through the cracks of my grief. “You…you monster,” I spat, my voice barely audible. through the lump in my throat.
The camera shifted to the remaining monitors, showing Daniel, Calix, Chlyrus, and Blake. Their chains rattled as they
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struggled, their faces pale with terror.
I wiped my face and stood up, my legs shaky but firm. “Let them go,” I demanded, my voice trembling but resolute. “Take me instead. Do whatever you want with me, but let them go.”
Mr. M’s laughter echoed through the room. “And miss out on the fun? Oh, Daphne, you underestimate me. This isn’t just about them. It’s about you. Watching you squirm, watching you make impossible choices–it‘ s delicious.”
“Face me,” I snapped, slamming my hands on the table. “Stop hiding behind your screens and games. Be a man!”
He chuckled darkly. “Temper, temper. If you quit now, the rest of them die. If you keep playing, maybe you save someone. Maybe not. Either way, I win.”
My eyes darted to the armed men guarding the door. My mind raced. Desperation clawed at me, and I knew I had to act fast.
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Before I could second–guess myself, I lunged, grabbing the weapon from one of the men.
“Stay back!” I shouted, pointing it at myself.
The room froze. Even Mr. M seemed momentarily stunned.
“Daphne,” he said finally, his voice calm but cautious. “What are you doing?”
“End this now,” I demanded, my hands shaking but firm. “Release them, or I swear I’ll end it all right here.”
A long silence followed. The tension in the room was suffocating.
“You wouldn’t,” he said, but there was hesitation in his voice.
“You don’t think I would?” I snapped, pressing the barrel tighter against myself. “If you kill them, I have nothing left to lose. Your sick little game ends here.”
The pause felt like an eternity. Then, finally, he sighed. “Fine. You win–for now.”
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The monitors flickered. One by one, I saw the chains release. Daniel, Calix, Chlyrus, and Blake fell to the floor, gasping for air, but alive. Relief washed over me, but I didn’t lower my guard.
Mr. M’s voice returned, sharper now. “Go to the red room, Daphne. It’s time we met properly.”
I turned to my friends, their eyes wide with fear and confusion. “Get out of here,” I whispered. “Now.”
“Daphne, no-” Daniel started, but I cut him off.
“Go!” I barked, my voice breaking. “I‘ ll handle this.”
I didn’t wait to see if they obeyed. I turned and followed the hallway toward the red room. My legs felt like lead, each step heavier than the last.
The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room. A man sat in the center, his face obscured by a mask. He fiddled with
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something in his hands, his posture relaxed, almost casual.
“Daphne,” he said, his voice smooth and unsettling.
I stood my ground, glaring at him. “So, you‘ re the mastermind. Mr. M.”
He chuckled. “I prefer to think of myself as an artist. I create chaos, paint with fear. It’s beautiful, don‘ t you think?”
“You‘ re sick,” I spat.
He leaned forward, his mask catching the faint light. “Am I? Or am I just honest about what everyone else hides?”
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “What do you want? Why are you doing this?”
“Power,” he said simply. “Control. Watching people like you struggle, break–it‘ s intoxicating. Makes me feel like a god.”
“You‘ re no god,” I snarled. “You‘ re a
coward.”
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He laughed. “And yet, here you are. At my mercy.”
I scanned the room, searching for an opening, a weakness. If I could take him down, this nightmare could end.
As if reading my mind, he leaned back and said, “You‘ re wondering if you can kill me. But you won’t. Not once you know the truth.”
“What truth?” I demanded.
He reached up, his hands steady as he removed the mask.
My breath caught in my throat. The world tilted, and I stumbled back, my heart pounding.
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head.
He smiled, his face all too familiar. “Hello, Daphne.”
“Dad?” My voice broke.
Matthew Rodriguez. My father. Alive.
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