章 6: A Gift
Haisley
We sit in that cold, desolate room, lost in our own thoughts, until something shifts in the corner.
A tear forms in the air, a distortion of reality. Before any of us can react, a dark hand—black as night with streaks of red pulsing beneath its skin—reaches through the void. It moves deliberately, placing a box on the floor with a hollow thud. The hand retracts just as suddenly, vanishing back into the darkness from which it came, leaving us with only the box… and our fear.
No one wants to move. No one even wants to breathe. We all just sit there, eyes locked between each other and the box, our fear paralyzing us.
"I'll go," Megan finally whispers, her voice shaky but determined. She stands, each step slow and tentative as she approaches the box. Her hand trembles as she picks it up, glancing around nervously before bringing it back.
She stops in front of me, holding it out.
I stare at her, confused. "I don't want it."
Her eyes meet mine, wide with something close to panic. "It's got your name on it."
My stomach drops. Shit. My name. Why me?
Reluctantly, I take the box, my hands trembling as I fumble with the latch. The others watch with bated breath as I pull it open, the lid creaking like a coffin. Inside, my confusion only deepens.
A bottle of water. A plate of food.
I tear the box open completely, and the group's eyes widen, reflecting the same disbelief I feel. Food? Water?
"Anyone hungry or thirsty?" I whisper, holding the plate out, half-expecting this to be some cruel trick. The silence stretches as we all stare at each other, uncertain. But before anyone can answer, the screen flashes on again, casting its harsh glow over the room.
We freeze. Shit. My heart pounds in my chest. What if I've just triggered something by opening the box without permission? What if this is it—my punishment?
The message on the screen appears in jagged letters, cold and unfeeling.
Gifts can only be used by those to whom they are given. Sharing is against the rules. Your demon gifts you, not your team.
A chill slithers down my spine. I can't share? I glance at the others, the weight of the situation settling like a stone in my chest. I hate this. I can't eat and drink while they go without. It feels… wrong.
"I don't want it," I say loudly, pushing the box away from me, my voice shaking with defiance. "If I can't share, I don't want it."
The screen flashes again. My heart stops as Megan reads the new message aloud, her voice trembling.
"Not accepting and using a gift is seen as disrespecting your demon. Punishments will be given. Selfishness is the key to winning this game. Not sharing."
Shit. The weight of it hits me like a punch to the gut. Selfishness. That's the real game here. They're twisting us, forcing us to betray every instinct of humanity, making us into something ugly. Something cruel.
I pick up the water, my hand shaking as I unscrew the cap and take a hesitant sip. I glance at the others, my chest tightening with guilt.
"Why me?" I whisper to no one in particular. "Why not everyone?"
But there's no answer. Only the cold, suffocating silence, and the reality that we're playing a game that's designed to destroy us—slowly, cruelly, one twisted rule at a time.
I've eaten the food and drank the water, but instead of relief, it only made me feel sicker, as if my body is rejecting every part of this twisted reality. A few more gifts have arrived, though not for everyone. No one else has been given food or water, which makes the knot in my stomach tighten further.
Megan got a dress—a strange, flowing thing that shimmered unnaturally under the harsh light. She had no choice but to change into it. Star was handed a key, cold and ancient-looking, but to what? No one knows. Deb received a small pocket watch. Its hands tick away, but whether it keeps the correct time is anyone's guess. Olivia, Ashleigh, Daisy, Eva, and Gina—so far, they haven't received anything.
Hours pass, according to Deb's pocket watch. Some of us drift in and out of restless sleep, but the tension in the room remains thick, unyielding. Every breath we take is filled with dread, every moment a waiting game for the next horror. I hoped the gifts might offer some clue about what's coming, some pattern, but they're as random and cryptic as everything else in this nightmare.
Then, the screens flicker to life again, bright and jarring.
Stay in place.
The words are like a command, reverberating in the room. Suddenly, the wall to our left distorts, warping as if reality itself is bending. A creature—blackened and monstrous—steps through, its movements unnervingly fluid. It doesn't look at us. Instead, it places a single chair in front of the shifting wall, then slips away, disappearing back into whatever dark dimension it came from.
We all exchange uneasy glances, our fear mirrored in each other's faces. What the hell is this?
More words flash on the screen, glowing, cold:
Olivia, sit on the chair.
Panic ripples through us. Olivia's face goes pale, her hands trembling as she instinctively shakes her head, backing away.
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