MicroHorror

With each breath came the scent of decay. There had been a living girl with her in this darkness. Charla had touched her emaciated frame, comforted her.

“Couldn’t change him,” was the only thing the girl had uttered. Charla had fallen asleep shortly after that, and when she’d awoken, the girl was dead.

There were others she’d felt, all gone, in various stages of decay, some skeletons.

“Help me!” Charla screamed. “Somebody let me out of here!” She was afraid he’d hear her and come back. But she was more afraid of rotting in this place.

The stone wall she pressed against had a crease, like it could be a door. She slapped it, shouted for several minutes.

Finally, she thought she heard something, a slight clattering, coming from outside.

“Help me! He’s trapped me in here!”

The clattering became louder. “Who’s in there?” a female voice shouted back.

Charla started to yell again, but a coughing fit came instead. It lasted nearly a minute. She hoped the girl was still there. “I’m Charla! The man picked me up at the bar. He took me to his house. He beat me up and raped me. Then he put me in here to die.”

Charla stated coughing again. But she heard a click, and the door slid open.

Light poured in and stung her eyes so much that she couldn’t see the girl in front of her. She could hear her voice, though.

“You mean the guy with the big blue eyes and crooked smile?”

“Yes. He was wearing a leather jacket and faded blue jeans.”

The girl gasped. “That’s the guy who picked me up. I thought he looked like a real bad boy. I couldn’t resist. He’s upstairs in the shower now. He doesn’t know I went snooping around.”

Charla’s eyes had adjusted to the point that she could see this was a young girl, petite and cute, like Charla. She knew of the sentiment the girl had felt. She too had not been able to resist, felt the urge to help him. “He’s picked up others. They’re all dead. We have to get out of here and call the police.”

Charla started to move, but was stunned by a blow to her jaw, which knocked her to the floor. She tried to get up, but her legs were like jello. She heard the girl talking again.

“You had your chance with the bad boy and couldn’t change him. Now it’s my turn.”

Charla tried to speak, to reason with the girl, to beg, but another coughing fit came instead. The door shut, and light was gone.