

Don't trip, don't fall, or the venom will take you all.

My dear reader, the choice is yours.
†

# The Blood Room

K. Weikel

Copyright K. Weikel © 2015

#

# Chapter One

†

Book in my oversized jacket pocket, I make haste to the bathroom around the corner. The jacket is my fiancé's, and he'd given it to me while he went up to where his father lives to find a good paying job. I miss him like crazy, but I've learned to block the pain out. Almost two years of long distance out of our almost four teaches you how, especially when all you can do is divert your attention elsewhere to keep calm and okay. And although I've gotten good at it, I can assure you it sucks.

A lady darts out of the outside mall's restroom around the corner, which is actually quite shady at any other hour without daylight. It's like an alleyway sort of structure. I was half tempted to force my little brother to come along in case something happens, but what could he do? He just turned fifteen and all he does is play video games throughout the day. I pray that if something _would_ happen to either of us, he'd have picked something up from them.

I push the door open with the jacket's sleeve, completely aware of the germs and whatnot now infesting it, half not caring, and walk in. The larger, always luxurious stall is shut, and I decide not to take my chances of checking if someone occupies it. Save myself some embarrassment.

I push open the smaller door adjacent of it, hang his jacket on the hook, and... You can guess the rest. I won't spell it out for you. Once finished, the automatic flusher kicks in and the bowl roars to life. I shrug back into the large jacket, the scent I've come to know and love wafting up to me, and mixing in with smells I'd rather not get to know and love. My nose scrunched up as I shimmy out of the stall and over to the sink, the water washing over my hands, again, automatically. Mom would be so proud of this place with is germ-freeness.

A grunt escapes from the large stall as the water shuts off and I begin to reach for the soap.

The noise wouldn't have startled me as much if it were a woman's.

I freeze, holding my breath as I listen for another sound. Perhaps I'd imagined it and I'm starting to go crazy. After all, this was a _woman's_ bathroom. Right? I didn't walk in the wrong one—I think. Maybe I did. Maybe that woman did too! But it isn't plausible. Plus, urinals are nowhere in sight.

Another grunt echoes from behind the door, followed by some shuffling. A cough. It's a man. It's definitely a man. Holy crud...

The bathroom door opens around the corner, pulling me from my trance. My heart pounds inside me and I can feel my head swarming, unable to keep a straight thought moving in one direction. Whatever is wrong with my brain on a good day is _way_ acting up and is making my hands shake. And whatever it is that makes me different than everyone else must be some sort of chemical imbalance in my mind; I don't think like a normal human being, or at least that's what I've concluded.

But all these scenarios pulsate though my head as I shuffle to the door, gripping the folded holes at the end of the long sleeves and trying not to bite them in anxiety.

Because germs.

"Oof—" I utter as my body collides with another. The woman glares at me, her dark eyes glistening with anger. "S-sorry," I stutter and try to weave past her.

There's another manly cough from the stall as I press my back against the wall to brush past her and leave the bathroom. My throat knots as I reach out for the door to pull open, but my fingers never touch the cool metal.

The woman had caught me by the hood, making me choke on my saliva. This is all too strange, all too _weird_.

"Um." I peer behind me, my heart in my throat. I wanted to say something smart to her, but I was too afraid. My brain tells me to ask her to let go, but my tongue is tied. So I stand there, wide-eyed and unsure of what's happening.

The woman, whose pale face faces mine completely, seems like any normal woman, except for sharp features and deathly inhuman grip on my fiancé's _Pierce the Veil_ hoodie. The last thing I wanted to do was return it to him damaged—and I know that sounds like an unnecessary thought, but my heart aches when I fall short of someone's expectations. Man, I sound completely pathetic and moronic. I'm a sad, sad human being sometimes.

"What's your name?" The woman flashes a smile so pretty it makes me stumble. I wish I had a smile like that.

"Um," I stammer. "Uh, my name..." It's hard to talk, even harder to swallow.

The woman continues to stare at me, her eyes burning holes in my corneas.

"I've got to go." My voice is barely above a whisper as I try to tug myself away from the strange predicament I've fallen into, but the woman hangs on.

She sighs, seeming almost bored with my struggling. "What is your name, girl?"

"K—Kyla. Kyla Vonemben."

Her head cocks to the side slightly, curiosity striking in her eyes.

"Strange name, kid."

Not letting go of me, she begins to walk back into the body of the bathroom, her brown flats slapping on the gray tile floor. Why is she still holding on?

There's a voice now coming from inside the stall, muttering to himself. My heart leaps into my throat as the man calls out loud enough to echo off the tiles. "Leave me alone."

He goes back to muttering. "I won't go back to the Blood Room, I can't go back to the Blood Room. No one will find me in the Blood Room, no one will locate the Blood Room."

"Please—please let me go," I plead, tugging at the woman's hand. Her skin is cold is ice, startling me. My brain flickers to one idea, one strange concept not materialized in this world, but I shake it away, finally writing myself off as crazy. I've read too many books in the fantasy genre.

I push at her hands as she drags me nearer to the stall. "What are you doing? Hey—hey, let go!"

She shoves the silver stall door and it caves beneath her hand, flying to the ground with a loud clatter. It stops me cold. The crazy idea slivers to the front of my mind once again, and this time I'm less adamant about tucking it away to the crevices of my brain. The man stops muttering at the loud noise and all is quiet except for the ringing in my ears and my heavy breathing. My eyes dare to tear away from the empty half of the stall I can see to snap over to the woman. She's at complete ease. Is she even breathing?

The lights shine off the mirror, but I don't dare look into them. I just might find something I don't want my eyes to be opened to.

_God, I pray, please, please help me,_ I beg, hoping my pleas reach through the clouds and to His ears. _Please._

"Ernie," the woman coos as if she's talking to a baby. "I've caught you a little snack."

Snack?

"Excuse me?" I croak, my vocal chords tight in my throat. There's no other word she could have used in that very spot of that exact sentence. And I know words very well—or, at least I'd like to think I do.

The woman pulls me forward and my knees buckle, hitting the hard ground with two loud bangs, followed by the slaps of my hands. The woman still holds onto my fiancé's hoodie, the oversized cloth lifted around me. I groan, and, if it wasn't for the sudden hiss I hear from my left, I would have stood up, but my blood runs cold and my body begins to shake. I snap my head around to take a gander at the man who had no business being in the woman's bathroom, and shrink away, tears leaping into my eyes.

His dark skin is paled, as if a chunk of his original pigment missing. His blue eyes flash a bright red, spreading from his pupils and working its way to the outer edges of his irises, as his hands move to resemble claws, blood dripping off his sharp nails. Four bloody streaks repeat themselves over and over on his face, as if he'd been scratching at something inside his skull, behind his frontal bone, and, possibly, inside his brain.

Unable to scream, I whimper and quickly lift myself from the ground, running past the woman and out of the bathroom. There's another hissing sound as my heart jackhammers in my throat and I burst out into the whipping wind, the hot day growing cooler in the dying March sun. However these glorious details mean nothing to me compared to the horror going to the restroom had led me to.

I sprint over to where my brother was waiting with his friend, both of them tapping the screens of their phones.

"Let's go," I command, peeking back to the area I'd called shady when the sun disappeared. The woman walks out with a smirk, hiding in the shadow the walls cast. She pulled a hood up over her dark-as-night hair, her murky eyes focused tightly on me. Two men dressed casually in black appear behind her, their eyes hidden with sunglasses and their heads covered in hoods.

"But we were going to go eat in the food—"

"Get up now," I snap, beginning to walk in the opposite direction of the woman, demanding the two of them to walk faster. I knew we should never have come to the mall today. I mean, I didn't know something like _that_ would happen, but I should have never said yes. Not today.

A chill races down my back as I peek once more behind me. The sliding glass doors opens and the three of us slip through, the woman and her goons gaining on us. We need to get home.

A police officer!

"Sir," I call, sprinting up to him. "There's a woman and two men following us."

"Where?" he asks, fully alert.

I turn and point. "Right—"

But they've disappeared.

"They were right there behind us, I swear," I tell the man. "She has dark hair and brown eyes, I think. She held me captive in the bathroom—"

"What?" my brother asked in awe, his eyes filling with concern as he eavesdrops, coming nearer.

I turn to him for a second and ignore his question. "Can you please walk us to my car? We've got to get home."

The man's lips form a tight line as he nods. "Where are you parked?"

"Out front."

"Okay, let's go."

He makes small talk as we make our way to the parking lot at the front of the newly expanded mall, and I can't help but look over my shoulder every few seconds. I keep my shaking hands in my pockets, fiddling with the unique engagement ring my fiancé had given me. I really wish he were here now. He'd make me feel at least a little bit more at ease.

We say goodbye and our thank you's to the officer as we get into the car and drive away. Two and a-half songs later, we're home and sitting in the driveway, the sun almost completely gone.

"What happened?" my brother asks, his friend leaning forward in the back seat to get the four-one-one on whatever it was I'd freaked out about in the mall. I can't tell them. I want to tell my parents, who I still live with, but maybe it was just a freak accident. Perhaps they'll forget about me.

But the problem is, I looked in the mirror before I'd ran out. And what I saw sent ice-cold shivers up my spinal cord. It would be a long time before I could look at the world the same again.

†

Night has fallen and I lay in my bed, half asleep. Once I did close my eyes and let my subconscious take over, nothing but nightmares greeted me and I woke up in cold sweat. I didn't sit upright like they do in the movies, screaming or suffocating from entanglement with my covers. Instead, my heart is the only thing I can hear and my chest aches because of its rapidity, while my lungs act as if they've been holding my breath for hours and is longing for new air. My body sweats and dread trickles down my throat and rests behind my sternum, making it hard to swallow. But I'm terrified to move. I'm petrified to close my eyes. But I know I need to calm down.

I grab my phone, first thing. My dad had these lights we could control with an app and I opened it, sliding the bar to my lamp and listening to my heart calm as it fades quickly on.

A sigh slips between my lips as I sniffle (my allergies have always been bad) and stretch. But as my eyes lift to look around the room, as they always do after a nightmare, there's that woman staring directly at me, into me. My body goes rigid and my blood turns cold as she smiles, two of her teeth oversized in a strange way, and her body disintegrates into small modes that slip into the moonlight streaming past my open window, a chuckle reverberating between the bones creating my skull.

The Blood Room calls for you, Kyla Vonemben, and the captives hold your names on their tongues. You cannot run from the Blood Room, the Blood Room will always find you, no matter where you travel. Don't trip, don't fall, or the venom will take you all.

I'm frozen as the sound disappears. She had spoken to me through thought. Thought-speak, like in _Animorphs_... only I wish _that_ was the book that has come to life before my eyes.

And, if my assumptions are correct, there really _isn't_ a place on this earth I can hide.

# Chapter Two

†

The night ebbs on, my heart marking the seconds ticking by. My window is now shut tight, probably never to be opened again. At least while I'm inside this house. Or any house. I'm pondering getting one without windows now, once I move out. Seems like a good plan...

There's a sound of something shifting in my room and I whirl around to find its source, only to see my kitten stretching, deep in sleep. I don't know if I'm jealous of his slumber or grateful I awoke. How did that woman find me? Could this all possibly be a dream?

Emotions rage inside me, something like a world war twisting inside my stomach and poking holes in my lungs. I can't pick apart reality from fantasy—does this mean insanity isn't far from my reach?

I walk over to my cat, Bo, on wobbly legs and squat down, my knees cracking over the sound of my noise machine. I can't sleep in silence, my brain keeps me up with ideas and questions and hypotheses.

He wakes with a sound resembling a pigeon, cracking his eyes open and stretching again. He begins to purr as my adrenaline starts to cease. The little rascal put me out fifty bucks just so I could take him home, and at the time we thought he was a she. His name had been Bella, and, one day—I'll skip the story for your sake—I found out he was no Bella. And recently, Stephanie Meyer had come out with a gender-bender book of _Twilight_ , where _Bella_ became _Beaux_. So, as the twi-hard fan I used to be when I was, like, twelve, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have a cat with a name from one of those books when the genders are opposite, now that I'm nineteen. As for the spelling, I wanted it to be different (as if the name isn't different enough, especially for a cat).

I let my mind wander about my kitten for a little while longer before checking my closets for any signs of her goons. I find nothing, but it still doesn't ease my mind or quiet the rapid pace of my poor heart. Not that there's anything wrong with it, it's just... you know. The woman crushed it with fear.

I sit on my bed and run my fingers through my thin ash-blonde hair, trying to make sense of it all. Could it be possible, all the myths I grew up with, all of the stories I heard, even the book I would read for my online college class—could it all be true? Could she be a...

I shake my head, almost laughing at myself, when I stop suddenly, three raps on my window with—most likely—knuckles. My stomach leaps into my throat and I stare at the pink curtains hanging before my window and hiding my room from sight. My body begins to tingle and black appears around my vision as I realize I need to keep breathing to stay conscious.

I can see the faint outline of a head and shoulders.

Knock, knock, knock.

There it is again! Holy crud, holy crud, holy crud...

I stand up slowly and back up to my door, touching it with my fingers and wrapping them around the cool metal before another set of knocks sound. I hold in a squeal as I fling open my door and run out, banging on my parent's door.

"What's wrong?"

My dad, former cop and military veteran, comes to the door in his underwear, completely awake.

"Someone's knocking on my window," I whisper, as if whoever it is can hear me. "And someone was in my room."

He disappears, ordering me to stay here, as he darts into his dark room for a second, my mom stirring and asking what's going on. He reappears again, cocking his gun as he marches to my room. I stay still, my feet glued to the cold tile floor in fear. My brain begins to pray desperately; there's definitely someone or some _thing_ after me, and it doesn't seem human.

I can hear my father rustling around in my room, opening the window, closing it. Two minutes later, he returns, shrugging.

"Whoever it was, they're gone now."

"What do I do?" I ask, scared out of my mind.

My dad ponders over this for a moment and then walks to put his gun away.

"What do you want to do?"

I half-laugh at the ridiculous question. "Well I'm not going back to sleep tonight." _Not after what happened earlier, either._

"Honey," my mom pipes up, walking to the doorway. She begins to rant about how worried she is about what occurred just a few moments ago, wondering if we should call the cops, but my dad shrugs. I tell him nothing was stolen, but I don't explain what I'd seen both here and at the mall. I really should though...

"You can stay in our room, if you want. Get the foam topper off your bed and bring it in here."

I nod and do as instructed. The foam topper is just an extra layer we put on top of our mattresses for extra comfort, and I guess it helps with that. It's super hard to get off my bed though and I hate touching it because it has a weird texture to it my fingers disapprove of.

I drag the foam all the way to the room with my Bible in my free hand. Holding it always makes me feel a little safer; it's as if God is closer to me and it helps my heart rid of the stress strung through it. And I'm stressed _a lot_ of the time.

I fix everything I need to and settle down into the makeshift bed, hugging two stuffed animals close to my body. One of them is _The Pink Panther_ with the neck all stretched out and patches of 'fur' missing from its outsides. A long time ago, _he_ became a _she_ because I said so and I named her Buddy. I was, like, one. Don't judge me. The other is _Tigger_ , a stuffed animal from my fiancé's childhood. His neck is all wonky too, but not as bad as Buddy's is. He gave it to me so I could always have a piece of him with me, even when I'm sleeping, so it's like he's always there. It was one of the sweetest things he's ever done for me.

I stare up at the ceiling, my head beginning to throb as I dread the moment they turn off the lights. I had to turn my phone off, no texting because of the sounds it made (because vibrations from the cellular device against a foam whatever is so loud it'll wake them).

(That was sarcasm, by the way...)

The lights turn off and the dread sinks into my bones once again. I pray a silent prayer, probably longer than God wants to listen (I'm just kidding), and try to close my eyes. But in the darkness, it's as if I can see the woman, or the man that had been in the stall, his eyes flaring a bright red as he saw me, and it frightens me. I feel around for my Bible and touch it with my cold fingers. A chill runs down my spine as I slow my breathing.

God will take care of me.

I hear my parents snoring.

But just in case I need to run...

I press and hold the power button on my phone, the white apple logo appearing and blinding me in the pitch blackness. I cringe, momentarily forgetting the real/unreal threat posed against me, and squint my eyes as Tobias, my fiancé, appears on the screen. I enter in my passcode and swipe up, turning on the flashlight. When I go to sleep, it's like I have to be able to see everything before and after I open my eyes, as if something might disappear in the middle of the night or something. Like I told you, I'm quite different. Strange is probably a better word to describe me.

For a moment, I cease to breathe, listening for the awakening of my parental units, but they never do. I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe now I can get some sleep.

†

I wake before my parents can, the room lighter even without my flashlight, I realize as I switch it off. No nightmares had come between the random event and now...

I shudder at the memory of last night, still doubting its realism. Yet here I am, nineteen and sleeping in my parent's bedroom because I was scared. I mean, I had the right to be, but what if it was all a nightmare or a mirage? I don't even know if that word works in a sentence like that, but it works for me, I guess.

I take a deep breath, trying to press the thoughts from my mind and get some more sleep, but trying not to think about it makes my brain tug at its content even more, questioning every little thing. I groan aloud. Luckily my parents don't stir.

But I can't get back to sleep, so I head into the living room, both stuffed animals tucked close to my chest, and plop down on the couch. I hiss at its frigidness and turn on the television, making sure to turn on everything else that needs to be on. It's so complicated.

I stand up, making sure to turn the volume way, way down since it's five in the morning and everyone's asleep, and make my way to my bedroom. My _No-Face_ blanket is draped across Bo's cathouse, the mask on it seeming distorted and almost freakish-looking. My eyes skirt the room for danger before I enter, and I dart in to grasp the soft blanket. I pull it towards me and jump out the door, something falling to the ground softly. I turn, startled, and look down at it.

A golden pocket watch sits face-up on the uneven tile floor of my short hallway, just before the entrance to the bathroom door. The quietness of the house makes its ticking excruciatingly loud to my ears, even over the soft murmuring of the TV. I bend down to pick it up, my body popping all over. My whole family has back problems. And... body problems. Kinda sucks.

The watch is cool to the touch, its chain even icier as my fingers brush across it. This wasn't mine and it certainly wasn't anybody else's in this house. My brother probably doesn't even know what a pocket watch is, let alone how to tell time on one. And my parents have no need for one, they've got their phone and my dad's got his wristwatch. Could this be my ticket to claiming I'm not entirely crazy? Perhaps what happened last night was real. Maybe that man I'd almost been 'fed' to wasn't at all human, and perhaps there's something very dark and the furthest from Godly happening all around me.

Now, cliché isn't something I typically like to do or act upon of whatever, but I can't help myself picturing the movie I'd obsessed over—it didn't start with my fascination on the creatures, but it sure as heck fueled it—and the one part in the woods everyone used to quote and make fun of. Okay—and even if this were true, and even if I could be slightly right about this, we'd have a whole other thing to worry about lurking the streets at night.

And, as if by some ironic torture, a commercial for a similar TV show plays I'd never personally seen before but have asked about. Same plot, though, I'm guessing.

If—and I mean _if_ (stressing it helps me rationalize)—I'm absolutely correct on this one, then I'd have nothing better to do but sit and wait for them to come back and empty me out, because nothing but God could save me from this future.

I swallow hard at this daunting thought. My feet find themselves again and I shuffle to the couch, my eyes drooping but my brain alert. I've got to keep my mind off this somehow, and mindlessly watching television would seem to be the way to go. If I decide to write, I'd find my paranoia slipping its way into my words, not to mention my music if I decide to sing. The only logical thing to do would be to sit and watch as something happens before my eyes, shutting off my assuming brain and letting the story tell itself. I avoid specific channels, but come across a rerun of _Doctor Who._ BBC has taken every episode off of _Netflix_ and _Hulu_ so they can start their own streaming service. That's the suckiest thing anyone could ever do to me. Luckily it's an episode of the Tenth Doctor—my favorite one.

Ah, David Tennant.

It definitely distracts me until the sun fully comes out and my parents decide to rise for the day. The bombard me with questions and I answer, avoiding the small details about the woman and the pocket watch I'd found. Looking over it earlier, I had seen my name engraved in the back, which had freaked me out all the more. It sat in my pants pocket, tucked tightly against my leg.

I spend the rest of my day avoiding the fact that someone could possibly be after me for whatever reason. Perhaps because of what I'd seen in the bathroom yesterday. But I push it away as Tobias calls, our phones connected for four hours until he falls back asleep. I chuckle to myself as I sit in my bedroom with every light on, including my computer and TV. I let the noise from my sound maker and the movie playing fill up the room, but only to where it's loud enough for only myself to hear. I flip through the Bible, reading it in different sections and looking over the devotionals on various pages.

" _Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me_ ," I read aloud, smiling at the verse I've come so accustomed to. My mom was always worrying and it rubbed off on me. I used to never worry or fear, and now that I do, this verse, Psalms 23:4, helps me calm my mind.

My eyelids become heavy and the past days' events come flooding back to me. I clutch the book with God's word in it and take a deep, shaky breath. I whisper a prayer up above, knowing it doesn't fall onto deaf ears.

I lay down under my covers, pulling Tigger and Buddy closer as I tug at the covers. My eyes stay open for as long as possible, my mind afraid to go under for hours at a time.

Somehow I fall asleep. I dream. The things I see while asleep are pleasant, everything light and wonderful. Maybe things are turning up. Everything could be headed in an upward direction, becoming better than I could ever imagine.

As I open my eyes, I realize how wrong I was.

# Chapter Three

†

White walls surround me. White floors hold my body flat. The pocket watch is draped around my neck, ticking violently as my vision returns and the images become clear in my head. It doesn't take but a second for me to understand I've been kidnapped. Of course I reject the idea immediately; perhaps I'm dreaming—maybe I'm in a hospital room without any of the furniture. But even hospital rooms have windows. They have a bathroom. And, sometimes, another patient.

Snarling to my right makes me jump out of my skin, my heart leaping into my throat and blocking the passage for my scream. My eyes land on a man with pale-ish dark skin and scars covering his bald head as I crab-walk away, only to feel the cold abrasive wall against the skin covering my occipital bone. I heave air in and out of my mouth, unable to beg for my life as my fear tangles into my matted mind.

He tugs at his limbs, trying to surge forward, but is unable to. My darting eyes find the reason behind his agonizing stillness: silver chains, glistening in the fluorescent lighting of the room. They're strapped to his wrists, his ankles, his neck, and around his waist. They dig into his thin skin, thick black-red blood dripping to the pristine floor. The fact that he's tied up should help me stay calm—if it wasn't starting to come out of the walls with each tug of his limbs.

My heart pulses just behind my tongue as I try to tear my eyes from the man. I'm not strapped down so I can run—if only there _was_ somewhere to run.

One glance around the empty room and my eyes snap back to the wall adjacent from where I cower. A silver door is pressed into it, reflecting dully the room I'm held in. I could run to see if it's unlocked, but what if he gets free before then? Whatever it is he wants, I'm sure he wants it from me.

But I'm almost too terrified to move.

One of his ankles is almost free.

It's either die fighting or don't try at all.

My breath hitches one last time as my self-preservation kicks into my bloodstream. I sprint to the door, slamming into it and growling at the metal for being so hard. The man shifts his stance, reaching out for me still. I grip the door handle and tug, moving my hand left and right and feeling the deluge of dread take over my system. I'm locked in.

Metal hits the ground behind me.

God be with me.

The man has his right ankle free, the chain dragging behind him as he yanks at the rest, his eyes red and rabid as his dry lips curl up into a sinister smile. I'm done-for.

I slam my weak fists against the hefty door, screaming for help and rubbing my dry throat raw. Tears can't even find my eyes, I'm so scared out of my wits. No, scared isn't the word. It's something much, much more terrifying than that.

One arm and both legs free, he lunges toward me. His other wrist finds freedom, the white wall looking like a small explosion was set off inside its drywall. A final scream shakes my bones and shatters my acceptance of death as his body collides with mine. All my suspicions are confirmed as he opens his mouth and his canine teeth elongate and curve wickedly like a snake's.

Vampire.

He brings his head down to my neck maniacally, and I feel the teeth press onto my skin. I let out a whimper as I close my eyes, trying to push him off of me and save myself.

God, help me, please...

A moment later, I realize the fangs hadn't pierced my skin. Not completely, anyway. The sting of the pinprick he'd given me pulls at my consciousness. Why didn't he bite me?

Not that I'm complaining.

The man falls to his side, clutching his mouth and crying out ferociously, like a mourning beast. I suck in air, wheezing, and move around to stand and press my body against the wall, as if it could help me get away from the man.

He wails again and I glimpse what he hides behind his tightly bound hands. His teeth have chipped, losing around half of each tooth one either side. My head throbs as I stare at him, the fear only simmering in my chest now but the adrenaline still pumping through my system.

The silver door crashes open, almost hitting me in its suddenness. I jump and back away quickly as the dark-haired woman steps through, staring me down with intense dark eyes. Oxygen is heaved into my lungs, carbon dioxide escaping quickly as I exhale at rapid paces.

She stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips, white walls extending behind her. Her mouth stays shut and still, resembling the edge of a blank page. I'm frozen in place.

I want to ask what she wants, but fear trickles down my arms as I even think about asking her. Perhaps I should just wait for her to speak—but my brain is moving too quickly and slow at once to process what's happened, what's occurring, and what's to come. Although I'm great at reading people, I'm terrible at predicting the future, whether it be five minutes from now or ten years.

"Kyla Vonemben. I didn't know you were saved."

"Ex—" I clear my throat as my eyes dart to the man. He's quiet now, still holding his mouth, tears leaving painful rivets along his cheeks. "Excuse me?"

"When were you baptized?"

"What?" I croak again, my voice rough. The wall is getting warm from where I continue to nervously press my hands.

"Are you Christian? Catholic? Although I don't really see the difference between the two."

"Uh," I blink. "C-Christian."

"Mmm," she sings softly from the doorway. "When were you baptized?"

"Um," I close my eyes and shake my head, still confused. I'd been baptized twice; the second was a rededication to Christ when I finally understood what it meant to be a Christian.

"Never mind that. You were. You have the Holy Spirit inside you. You can't be pierced by us."

My eyes find hers. Her face is tight with creases of anger. I fiddle with the ring around my finger, relieved to feel it still there. There's a part of Tobias with me. Aside from his jacket that I now realize I wear as I begin to notice my body excreting sweat. Now that everything is still and my life isn't in immediate danger at this moment, I see it as I stare at her; she won't attack, the details about me and around me are clarifying.

"So here you will stay until we can."

"What?" I burst forward for a moment, my eyes darting to the singular threat in this room. If my knowledge on vampires is correct, and it is, then she can't enter the room unless I invite her. However, everything I learned was legend and folklore and... I rule out _Twilight_ vampire laws.

"Sooner or later, you'll give up on God because you'll grow tiresome of your unanswered pleas to him. Everyone does."

"Well I'm different," I spit, growing angry as my head grows light from confrontation. It's the worst—oooh, I take it back; I hate that saying. It's the worst thing that could come forth from any situation. I get flustered and I can't think straight.

I spin the ring around my finger with my thumb as my body trembles beside the still wall.

She smirks. "We'll see, now won't we, little Kyla. Get ready, kid, because you've got a lot of thinking to do in the silence provided to you."

She slams the door shut, my heart weighing heavy in my chest. I shift my gaze down to the man sitting defeated close to the door. He stares off in the distance, somewhere past the tile floor I stand on. Now that all is quiet, I can hear him sucking on something inside his mouth.

"I lost my faith," he whispers in a cracked, monotonous and accented voice. "I couldn't take it anymore."

I stay silent, afraid of what I might say.

"Stay strong, or heaven will never be within your reach again." He sucks one last time. "May God be with you."

A moment later, he closes his eyes and his body turns gray, crumbling to the floor as if he were made of ash.

# Chapter Four

†

Three days. That's how long I've been pent up inside this insane asylum. I'm dying.

Not literally. Okay, possibly literally. I'm so hungry and all they feed me is scraps. This is the only time I've ever regretted liking to eat food, unlike several girls I know or read about or whatever. I don't know why they're even bothering keeping me here, what do they think I'm going to do, tell the world vampires are real? Heck no. I'd be locked up in a room exactly like this one and the white walls are leaving a permanent dent in my skull because of this headache.

I exhale slowly, wrapping myself in my fiancé's jacket. The marquise-cut diamond fits perfectly between my lips as I keep my mind busy and hold the fits of tears at bay. I've cried myself to insomniactic sleep each night now on this cold floor, uncertain of my fate. Tonight I wanted it to be different, whatever the word would hold. I almost feel challenged in here, like it's a puzzle I just need to figure out so I can escape. They want me to waver in my faith, but why? So they can drink my blood? The man that had tried it was fully a vampire and still had blood inside of him. He'd said he lost faith, but what's the option if, and I'm not saying I will, if I lose it too? What happened to him when he lost it?

A shudder passes through my body and a knot forms in my scratchy throat.

"I wish you were here, Guy," I say aloud, glancing over at his ashes. I've found myself talking to them a few times throughout the day as if he was still alive and in this room. And not trying to suck me dry. "I know you'd have the answers I'm looking for."

I close my eyes as I rest my head against the bare wall. The room feels so utterly big and spacious—not in a good way. The ticking's of the pocket watch are like sharp blows to my head, making me somewhat irritable.

I want so bad to have at least my phone. If not for calling someone to help me, to find me, wherever I am, then to at least play a game or something, maybe check Facebook. Probably not though. I'd most likely type away in my notes as fast as I could before I got carpal tunnel. Once that happened, it'd lead to me talking to Siri. Now, if it had everlasting battery power, I'd—

The door swings open. I jump up, my train of thought miles away from grasping it again. I'd probably have this conversation with myself soon enough.

"Kyla Vonemben." I jump at the echoing voice. It's coming from somewhere in this room. I just can't pinpoint _where_ —it sounds like an intercom though, like the ones in school. Or maybe a megaphone. Or, well, someone talking through a megaphone. "It's time to test your faith."

"What?" I cry to the ceiling.

Snarling comes from the hall just outside the door. My heartbeat increases once again. Has my faith in God changed? Have I grown distant? I know I've talked to him, prayed to him, hoping he'll get me out of this... whatever it is.

It's a woman this time that walks into the doorway. Her freakishly pale skin clings to her like wet clothes and her eyes glow red.

"If Richardson gave you one step closer to the Blood Room, then I'll give you one step back."

She charges forward and I say a silent prayer through my ragged breathing, although it's more like a desperate plea, to God. Within a moment she has me pinned by my neck to the wall and most likely given me a concussion with the hole I just made. I groan aloud as she squeezes tighter. I push against her and slap her with what strength I have left, but it's slowly diminishing.

God... please...

The woman smirks, releasing me enough to where I can stand on my feet. I gasp for air and dart the other way, only to be greeted by her stronger-than-it-looks vampirish arm. The wind is knocked from my lungs and, before I can fall on my back, the woman has caught me and opens her mouth to bite. I feel the pressure, but I don't feel the sink.

The woman cries aloud in shock and pain as she drops me to the ground. The world spins around me and I suck in air like a malfunctioning vacuum. Teeth shards land beside me and she moans excessively in a sad kind of way like the other guy, whatever she had said his name was (I'm terrible with names), only it's more of a higher pitch and in shock than in terrible and utter sadness and defeat. I roll over onto my side, feeling like a fish out of water as my 'athletic induced' asthma kicks in. I close my eyes, feeling sleep weighing on my eyelids and a migraine making itself known, starting in the back regions of my skull. I groan and stand up, using the wall to steady me. The woman, now on her knees, clutches her broken teeth uttering a simple _no,_ over and over again until she, too, fades to ashes and crumbles to the white floor.

"You did it again."

The voice is from the doorway, I realize as I snap my eyes upward. The dark-haired woman stands there with her arms crossed, as if I'd passed a challenge she hadn't foreseen.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen," I croak. "How old are you?"

She smirks, her eyes seeming to darken. "Hasn't your mother told you never to ask a woman's age?"

"Well," I stammer. "You just did."

"Touché," is all she says. Then we stand again for a long time in silence.

"What am I doing here?"

"You've become one of our Guiney pigs. Follow me."

"Wait—what? Guiney pig for what? Where am I?"

She chuckles curtly and turns to walk down the hallway. "Become so talkative suddenly, haven't we, Kyla? The answers will greet you in the Blood Room, where you are now being taken, should you follow me. If not, you'll starve to death and then we can feed on your dead, soulless body."

The words sting like the shallow cut of a sharpened knife and I wince as she begins to strut down the hall. Maybe this is my chance to escape! But what if she knows I'll try that, what if she knows I'll bolt as soon as she turns her back?

I step out into the hall, the white walls matching the room I'd been in for three days with nothing but my mind and the ashes of a dead vampire to keep me company. I clutch the pocket watch around my neck.

"And if you should run, as you've probably already pondered about doing, you shall be greeted by my pets: the wolves."

Were _wolves, perhaps?_ I wonder. I'd be so psyched if my life wasn't endangered... or if their souls could be redeemed. Perhaps they still can; but how would one reverse vampirism?

The thought devours my mind as we walk down the hall, passing several doors like mine. Sounds of terror slip through the narrow cracks and I can't help but shudder. How many others are there inside of here?

There's a bloody scream from my left side, making the door rumble. My blood runs cold and my heart pounds against my aching ribs as I turn to stare at it, frozen in place. I want so bad to help whoever it is, but my gut keeps telling me not to. Perhaps I should lose my hand once it touches the knob; the vampires might not be able to bite me, but they can sure as heck touch me and hurt me. My frigid neck tells me that much.

I touch it, feeling the bruising as I swallow.

"Come on, you'll have time to ponder over your silly questions once we reach the Blood Room."

"What is that?" My voice is hoarse.

"A place where even the thought of time feels so very real."

Now, I'm usually good at understanding metaphors. Similes, personification, et cetera. I'm a writer, for crying out loud, I need to for the most part. But my strange brain has trouble wrapping around things sometimes. And from what I understand about this personification of time, my head begins to ache from it. Perhaps I can't leave until I lose faith. Maybe it's become a vampire or die and maybe it has been since I stepped foot in this place. Or was brought here. You get my drift.

Maybe they'll keep me until time rakes its claws down my face and gravity pulls at my skin until it's nearly fallen off. It's possible I will never leave here alive. I mean, even if I turned into a vampire, I'd be dead. Undead. Zombie-ish. I think I'd much rather be a zombie, I mean, if I was anything like Live Moore from _iZombie_. Or, well, not _like_ her. She doesn't make too many _Godly_ choices, granted it's also from the brains she eats. They alter her personality and she takes on the character she'd eaten the brains of. Genius, if I must say. I don't think I would have ever thought about that.

I wonder what blood does to the vampires. Do they act different when they drink blood? I'm sure I'd ask the woman leading me if I didn't feel the threat of danger scraping the top of my head with every _clunk_ I made on the ground with my feet.

I try to quiet my footfall, afraid one loud noise could set something off. Of course, I have to remind myself people are _screaming in terror_ and nothing's happening. To me, in that case, aside from the tears about to stream down my unwashed face.

I pick at a forming pimple on my forehead nervously as the woman continues to walk with me in tow. I can hear my mom, _Don't pick at your face!_ It makes me crack a small smile out of the midst of my fear. Like with Tobias and my relationship, once I moved away, I had to push out the painful longing to see him again and to see my family. They were probably worried to death about me. Scratch that. _Are._ Not were. Unless they've given up on me, which I doubt. I was the first child on my mom's side of the family, the one we live closer to, and, I'm not saying I have more rights to be found than the other kids should they go missing, but they've all watched me grow and helped form and shape who I was. Until I moved to Hawai'i for three and a half years, where my dad was stationed.

But the feelings I'd been trying to push away, most of the time unsuccessfully because of the lack of distractions, are beginning to bubble up as I become curious of the Blood Room. Why is it called that anyway? When someone says its name, I picture, like, this room with blood dripping down the walls slowly with torture devices inside, and, man, does it freak me out. I shudder violently as goose bumps trail down my eczematic arms and make my hands tremble. I cross them in front of me as we reach the end of the excruciatingly long hallway and it tee's off in two directions: left and right.

"Pick one."

"Huh?"

"Would you like to go right, or would you like to go left?"

"Um," I stammer. I thought she was taking me somewhere. Why does she need me to pick a direction if, and I assume she does, she knows the way? "I thought we were going to the Blood Room?"

"We are." She doesn't turn around. If I had a knife I could sneak up on her and stab her. I trash that thought as soon as I have it; it's the writer in me talking. I always loved writing the villain parts and I don't know why. "One way has answers and the other holds questions."

I blink. What the frick? Oh, frick is one of my favorite words, by the way; felt like I should mention it. I'll probably be saying it a lot because I can't stand cussing. Gave it up because God doesn't like it. It's been—what?—seven years now?

"Choose or I'll choose for you."

"Uhm." I glance down at my fingers. Sometimes I forget which is left and which is right. I was terrible at remembering until I started to drive, but even then, I still had trouble.

This isn't one of those times, but, instead I have a gut feeling of which way to go. My mind teeters back and forth, weighing the pros and cons. But do I really want answers? Or would I rather more questions?

_Answers,_ I respond to myself. My mind is too creative to have an overload of questions in a slaughterhouse like this. But which one is the right one?

I recall a story I read in my freshman year of English. Never understood why the class was called English when I already understood the language after, like, fifth grade, when we started reading more and more things. I wish it was just called 'Reading Class' or something. I don't mind reading.

Anyway, the story was about this man or something with a choice of two doors. Behind one was... either a lion or tiger. The other held I think the woman he wanted to marry. I don't remember which one he chose, the left or right. So that doesn't help.

And then I was watching _Yu-gi-oh!_ a few weeks back too and they had the same challenge, only the opponents they faced to get through the doors cheated and it was whatever door the men wanted it to be. The exit, I mean.

But that doesn't help me either.

"Left."

The woman looks back over her shoulder and smiles, the curve of her lips and point holding them together sending a cold tingle though my body and making my head grow light. Had I chosen the tiger?

Or was it a lion?

Oh, what was it?

"Come."

I begin to follow her, my heart the loudest thing now that we've left the hall of screaming. I would be able to picture it pounding against my ribcage like a cartoon if I didn't know any better. But I do. Stupid college anatomy, see what you do to my creativity?

The woman looks skyward, chuckling to herself. "Your body will be stored with the others once you're through. If we can't have you because your faith is too strong, then we'll just have to break you down until you are nothing but a sack of blood."

I stop moving as she says this, my gut dropping in my chest. They will. I was right. They'll keep me until I either give up on God or I die. I shouldn't be scared, I know where I'm going once I pass on from this life. But I can't help but feel that animalistic preservation coursing through my body. It's unignorable.

She turns around to fully face me, her sharp features seeming more prominent in the lights as she points upward.

"You have less time than you think, Kyla. They did."

My eyes lift. From the high ceiling hang thousands of things on chains. Once I try to focus on one, my eyes widen and I look down the other direction. They seem to never end. But they weren't in the last hallway I was in.

"These watches come from those that ran out of time. The stubborn ones that had utmost confidence God would save them from this death hole. But out of all of us, look who's still alive."

"So you don't have any faith?" I ask before I can hold my tongue.

She smirks. "God doesn't exist."

I scoff. "Really? For someone in your position, I'd say you're the stubborn one, if not ignorant."

Her eyes flash re and I feel a hot wave of fear flare up inside me.

"Once you spend enough time in your own mind alone, you'll realize you truly have no one, not even the invisible being you Christians like to call _God_. If he was more than a figment, why would there be such terror in the world? Why would there be someone like me?"

She turns around and opens the door hidden behind her, my nerves buzzing with electrical waves of something close to anger. Not rage, that's past the sensation of anger, which I have trouble dealing with because I really am such an optimistic pessimist and a happy person; I don't have much experience with it.

"You'll have plenty of time to ponder over why this is in the Blood Room."

"I don't need the room to make me think about that," I spit, unable to contain myself. "There are two forces at work, and I'm positive the devil can't wait for you to kill another one of us; it's one less God-follower for him to try and manipulate."

In a blink, she's gripping my wrist and pulling me through the door, hissing and grumbling inexplicable words. She tosses me into the room and I fall on my side, crying out as my body collides with the black cement.

"We'll see what you think about your faith in the morning."

She slams the door shut, sounds of moaning and groaning coming from behind me.

# Chapter Five

†

I've always had the feeling I'd die in a car crash.

Okay, maybe not _always._ But definitely since everyone thought the world was going to end. I kept thinking to myself, _what if the world really did end today? Where would I go? Would I be right with God?_ And then, because I know that Jesus will return when everyone's least expecting it, I reminded myself the world wasn't going to end on the set time these 'scientists' predicted. Scientists lie, I know that much. Not all of them, but sometimes they do, and it's those lies that get leaked into our brains and force-fed to us as if we were unable to think for ourselves.

That rant shall come at another time.

But I never thought I'd die at the hands of a vampire, not even close.

Oh, no, I'm not dead yet, but as I stare upon the glowing red eyes drifting around the dark room, it feels as if death draws nearer and I can feel its breath on the axis of my spinal cord, weaving its icy fingers past my muscles and gripping my lungs. No, death hasn't taken me yet, and by the grace of God, hopefully I can see this through.

The vampires move side to side like snakes, their glowing eyes trained on me in the darkness pounding against my skin. I sit, frozen with my hands behind me, holding my torso up from the ground.

"It's a test of your faith!" I hear a voice call.

My eyes instinctively dart to where the sound came from, focusing on a dark figure for a moment before I glance back at the vampires.

"Don't lose your faith!" Another voice cheers.

The vampires seem to grow irritable at this, letting out low hisses. As they move, metallic clanging echoes through the room. Are they tied up too?

"Run!"

The vampires turn to this word, snarling as they smile. Suddenly a hoard of them lunge to their screaming victim, the shout gurgling out as they seem to ease up and move to the back of the room. My breath finds me and my chest expands and contracts rapidly as a cool hand grabs my forearm.

I jump, holding in a cry as the body belonging to the hand comes somewhat into view. The voice shushes me.

"It's okay. I'm human. Come over here, the lights should be coming on soon."

"I'm—I'm gonna stay right here," I gulp, not being able to see anything. There's not even something to see the floors! How am I supposed to survive in a place I can't even see—I have a problem when I can't see, and I _know_ I've stressed that before with the lights after the woman appeared in my room.

_Maybe I'm not supposed to survive,_ I tell myself, rolling my eyes at the stupidity of this reminder. Of course they don't. But why did they lock me in a room? Are these other Christians?

"Please come over here with me—"

"But I can't see anything," I breathe, once again stating the obvious. Only this time it was out loud and not in my head.

He sighs. "Trust me. God will protect us as long as we believe He can."

"He won't stop protecting us," I counter. "It's us that chooses to come out of his protection."

The boy groans. I can picture him rolling his eyes. "Look, duh. But life lessons aren't what you need right now. You need to get out of the doorway. We can't see anything and have no idea when it'll open and a new Christian will enter the Blood Room. And they don't care if they knock you to the side and disorient you, so come."

He takes my arm and pulls it, shuffling away on his butt and I give in and follow, crawling on my hands and knees. I touch something wet and jump, a cry sticking to the lining of my throat as my back hits the wall. What did I touch? I can't see freaking _anything_! I can feel the wave of irritation flare through me and I grit my teeth, growling.

"Okay, now that we're out of the puddle we can sit."

"Puddle of what?" I gasp, ferociously wiping my palm against my pant leg. Which are my pajamas, actually, and I haven't changed or showered in the past three days. I grimace at the thought. I feel disgusting.

"It's the Blood Room. Take a wild guess."

My throat turns acrid as my stomach churns. I can't handle other people's blood. Not after my nose surgery to fix my deviated septum and I threw up pure blood—twice. Now the sight of other people's blood and puss makes me want to heave... And I just crawled through a mass of it.

"Get some sleep," he says softly. If he could see my face right now... How does he expect me to sleep in this asylum? "You'll need it in the morning." He yawns. "Got a lot of explaining to do."

Just as he finishes his sentence, I feel the urge to ask questions and wonder aloud, my brain throbbing and pulsing. I can't sleep. I'll be thinking. Yes, there's sound, but that sound is coming from the beings that will push me until my faith has withered like a dead flower. I just can't lose faith.

He's snoring now. How can he slip under into unconsciousness while these beasts lurk around, unchained in the same room? _Are_ they unchained? I can't see in the darkness.

And the night drags on, horrors and questions littering my brain like trash gathering in the ocean.

†

The room is suddenly filled with light. What a beautiful thing. The scraping of metal and the ticking of pocket watches all around the room has been driving me mad. Mad as a Hatter. Absolutely bonkers.

Enough with the Alice references.

Sorry, I can't help it. I have this obsession with Alice in Wonderland, not to mention Peter Pan. Which I guess would make sense if you got to know me. Or not. Oh well.

Melanie Martinez's _Mad Hatter_ suddenly makes itself present in my mind, as if one could find the time to sing in a horrid place like this. How stupid of my brain to think I would want to.

But I want to.

Singing helps my nerves. I guess that helps when I'm on a stage, these strange melodies and rhythms I've come to terms with over the years.

The edgy and eerie lyrics bounce off my tongue, but stop short when I hear the boy start to stir next to me, rubbing his eyes. He's Asian with black, black hair draping itself over his eyebrows and the tips of his ears, his body covered in dried blood. Now that I focus on something besides my absurdity and the insanity surrounding me, I notice the floor is stained with red blood, some places wetter than others. The crimson streaks each person in the room, some are completely drenched, others have almost none, but the liquid red leftovers taint everyone, it even reaches their pupils. It's even changed me in the one night I've been in here.

The boy stretches and yawns, smiles and bows his head over his folded hands. He's praying. He must be strong in his faith. Or, at least I hope he is; sometimes looks can be deceiving.

The boy whispers _amen_ before picking his eyes up to look at me. His face tells me he's in his twenties, but here I am still calling him boy. Man is too weird for me to say.

"What's your name?" He asks casually, as if this whole thing was just a sunny day and we met at Starbucks or something. But I don't ever go to Starbucks.

"Kyla," I respond, my voice cracking. I want to ask him what his name is, my excruciatingly well-mannered behavior making my brain tingle. I decide to ask. I might need a friend. "What's yours?"

"Markus." He studies me for a moment. "Tell me about yourself."

"What?" I gasp, half laughing as my eyes dart around the room. Two vampires watch us closely, murmuring to each other but never taking their red, beady eyes off of us. Their faces look as if the bones making up their skull will implode at any moment. "Of all the questions you could ask me, you ask me that one? If you haven't noticed, we're in a room full of vampires."

"No we aren't."

I make a sound in the back of my throat, unsure what to say next. His face shows no humor.

"Uh—um, don't mess with me. I know they're—what are you—are you trying to scare me? Because I'm already losing my mind."

Is he being truthful? Am I losing my flipping mind?

"Nah, I'm just kidding."

I want to punch him.

"They can't hurt us, Kyla. Not while we remain strong in our faith."

"They can. They _so_ can." My hands touch my bruised neck. "They just can't take our blood."

He shakes his head. _Dang it, I already forgot his name._ "Their hands are chained behind their back with silver. Vampires can't break silver; it takes away all their strength. Well, in that specific area of their body. And the rules of the Blood Room is that they can't use their hands."

I cock my head to the side. None of this is making sense. I hear the part about the silver, like in werewolves, but with _vampires?_ And what's this about rules?

"There are rules for vampires in the Blood Room. Don't touch the humans with your hands. Don't attack a Believer unless you truly think they've lost their faith. And the last is don't leave."

"How do you know all this?"

"I've been here since the beginning."

"The beginning?" I echo. "When was that?"

"Two years ago."

My eyes widen in shock. Two years ago? He's been here two freaking years?

"What?" I wheeze.

He nods solemnly, looking out into the room, and then he digs in his pocket, producing a small, green Bible. My eyes long to look upon the pages; perhaps there's something in there that could help me out of this predicament. Maybe there's a way to save us all, even the vampires. Or am I just wishing to save myself?

"This was in my pocket when they took me. I'd been baptized when I was eight after I told my father I was ready. Jesus has been there for me ever since, even when they kidnapped me. I was one of the first. It was me, another guy, and two girls. Raina, Veronica, and Tom. We were explained the rules of the vampires once they realized we couldn't be bitten. Every vampire that tried died when they lost their fangs, and the vampires didn't know why. They then realized that because they were pretty much working side by side with the devil and his demons, that, just like with them, they couldn't penetrate you when the Holy Spirit has been received. They tried over and over to break our faith, but we four stood strong, proving that God towers over all and no one can defeat his awesome power. And then Veronica was bitten."

His voice wavers as he rests his head against the wall.

"She was scared, as we all were, but she had spent more and more time away from us. She became more and more distant and angry, it seemed, as she began to lash out at our encouragement. Veronica began to question everything, even God. She feel into disbelief and stepped out from under God's protection, and the vampires felt her shift. They attacked her. They took her blood, her life. She was the First."

"But the Holy Spirit never leaves," I whisper. "Why were they able to pierce her?"

"Because vampires don't possess people. They only steal the life in the blood that is protected by the Holy Spirit. And even if we stumble once, they're faster than we are at remembering ourselves, and before we realize it, we're gone from this world."

"One can't help but stumble," I whisper again. Stumbling is something I tend to do often, but I try to learn from it. One wrong step and everything could be over for me.

Markus nods. "We all stumble."

He points to a spot on his neck, two streaks that are now scars drag across the muscle connecting the base of his neck to his shoulder.

"I found my wits before the venom could touch my blood."

"I thought the venom comes out immediately." I roll my eyes mentally at my assumption. He's been with these creatures for two years, I've only heard legends about them.

He shakes his head. "Five seconds. That's how long it takes for the vampires to get a good grip on you and actually pierce your skin. You've witnessed it yourself," he says, his eyes darting down to my neck.

My fingers cover the spot immediately. I'd forgotten about the man who attacked me. His teeth made marks on my skin and broke it, but no blood came out and I never turned into a vampire myself. I called out to God and He saved me. I stop breathing at this thought. Markus and I have encountered something alike.

"And then Tom stumbled. It was a moment of weakness that the vamps got him. Next was Raina, who was able to defend herself with her silver pocket watch. Pressed it against his skin and he let go, but it was too late. She turned into a vampire."

He nods to one of the vampires circling in the center, her hands bound by the silver chains behind her back. Her black hair falls in tattered and smashed waves, her dark skin paled in comparison to what it would have been if she were human. Raina. I try to commit the name to memory. If I figured out how to save the vampires from the eternal dang-nation (hate the other word, so I replaced it), I'd save her first. She seems to mean a lot to him.

"That's her?" I ask.

He nods. I copy the movement, staring down at my hands. They're covered in dried, smeared blood too, and so are the rest of my clothes. Even Tobias' jacket. I hope he isn't too mad...

I play with the ring on my finger, trying to get the smudges of blood off of the malleable silver. I always hated gold. It's a shame my pocket watch was gold; didn't match my ring.

There it is, the strange part of me again.

"May I?" I ask, pointing to the Bible he holds in his hands.

"Oh, sure," he says, pressing it against my palm. "Don't let them see you with it though. They don't know I have it."

"They who? These vampires?" Surely they've noticed; it's been two years!

"No. No, the Heads. They run this operation."

"Operation?"

Markus glances over to me, his eyes dark and full of fear.

"We're only test subjects."

# Chapter Six

†

I have always been obsessed with dystopian societies. The ones where the government takes over and uses people as pawns in their sick and twisted games (no pun intended), et cetera. But it was one thing when you read about them, all the killings, the transformation, the mind-wiping, and such and such; it's another when you're actually a part of one.

Now. Vampires, dystopias, God, how does it all play out and fit together? Like gloves. Actually, it's a good question. And before continuing with Markus's four words and my head plopping onto my palms as my blood turned cold and my stomach churned with acid, making my throat sting, I'd like to point out the downfall of this world and its morals. Take a good, long, boring look at the world around you without the taintedness it's given you over the past years. What do you see?

Continue with my crestfallenness.

I pull my knees close to my chest, feeling more or less naked and wishing I was in a dream. After all, my nightmares and nighttime manifestations blossoming from my creative mind are _extremely_ vivid and, yet, sometimes actually make sense. To me anyway. But vampires... real? How could they be of flesh and blood when they're only made from ink on pages and words from legend's mouth? How is this possible?

"What do they want?" I whisper, unable to find my voice. It must be trapped between my taught vocal chords.

Markus places a hand on my shoulder, from which I shrink away from. Never have I been a big 'toucher'; I don't like physical contact unless I invite it. Even when I act on stage, I can't help but keep my hands at least an inch from the other actor on stage and if I do touch them, it's only for a brief moment.

Markus glances at me puzzledly for a moment, but I ignore politeness and the sorry I wanted to say to him. Closing myself off might not be the best option here, but it's the only one I can think of that will keep me safe in the meantime. If only I could explain without the dangerous distraction lurking not far from me in the center of the room.

"Vampires want control. Freedom without a price. The price they pay is heavy and the burden they carry is even loftier. They are shut off from heaven, most of them unable to accept there is one waiting once our last breaths are taken, live off human blood, only that blood is the essence of their demise. _But never consume the blood, for the blood is the life, and you must not consume the lifeblood with the meat._ The scriptures say just that in Deuteronomy 12:23. And although they aren't eating the meat, the blood remains. The life is in the blood. Jesus shed his blood for our sins, giving us eternal life. The Holy Spirit is within us, as we are the vessel for God's good works as we are promised eternal life in heaven. We are protected by the life and resurrection of Jesus Christ, our Savior, and these creatures cannot take that from us. Only we, as humans, can step out from under His protection."

His eyes are lit up, excitement coursing in the brightness of his eyes. "But the vampires want a way around that. They don't want to be limited, they want to be unstoppable. So don't doubt for one second He has left you and you are unsafe.... _If you had faith even as small as a mustard seed, you could say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it would move._ God can do anything, he can even pry you from the clutches of the devil's works if you only have faith."

I nod, a knot forming in my throat. I understand it all, I've always _understood_ the Bible and its teachings without much difficulty, but I never really memorized quotes aside from a few. How can I keep the faith when I haven't even equipped myself with the Word itself, like Markus has?

My eyes snap up as a snarl rumbles to my ears. A girl begins to creep closer to me. My heart trembles and my breathing shudders as it slips past my chapped lips. I'd slipped a little, worrying about my strength as a follower of God.

An idea slips into my thoughts. Crazy to me, unimportant and insignificant to others, but definitely a feat for me. The one thing I'm most afraid of is going blind and not being able to see. Strange phobia, but real. If I had the choice of losing a leg or going blind, I'd get a peg-leg.

I take a deep breath.

God be with me.

Close my eyes with all the trust and faith I could muster up inside of me and slow my heart rate.

God's got me.

I feel whole again for a moment, despite the horrors around me, aside from the blood dried on my clothing, and I clutch the Bible Markus had handed me.

I will not lose my faith, I chant silently to myself. God will protect me as long as I am faithful and obedient.

No, I counter myself, taking in a sharp breath. He will protect me if it is his will. It is not up to me whether I live or die. Either way, heaven is what'll wait for me—the light at the end of the tunnel.

Before opening my eyes back up, I take a deep breath. Once my pupils focus in on where the woman had been standing, a smile forms on my face. She's gone, beginning to circle the room once again. For a moment, I am triumphant. For a second, I've won with the help of God. But for a beat, I wonder how many more chances I'll have face-to-face with the beasts threatening my life.

†

Page after page I turn, the sharp crinkling of the broken-in pages seeming to be all I want to hear as two more people drown in their own blood as it gurgles up into their mouths. Twice I felt the need to puke, but not once does it escape from my mouth. I turn the page to Mark, completing the book of Matthew. I've always been an avid reader, but this time it's life or death. If I can't equip myself I won't be able to win this battle. Or could I possibly list it under the description of a war?

Markus has been shuffling around the room, the white walls stained and streaked with blood, handprints reaching up as far as they can as if its body could climb the walls like Spiderman. How I'd love to have his powers; perhaps I'd last longer. But if these vampires can shape-shift like legend has for them, being Spiderman wouldn't really matter.

My eyes lift from the tiny Bible and up to my new friend as he makes his way to the opposite wall to the left of the door. I try to focus on him as the vampires shuffle back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He's bowing his head with someone weeping. A girl, maybe the age of thirteen. It's hard to tell; she has blood splattered on her face. She nods her head and sniffles loudly, closing her eyes and ducking his head as Markus' mouth moves, praying for whatever.

I take a shaky breath and decide to do the same, diving in whole-heartedly and probably going on and on longer than I should have and repeating my sentences playing inside my head many more times than necessary, but I'm scared— _terrified_. But I shouldn't be. God will protect me just as long as I stay true to Him and His word. I need to keep Him at the front of my mind, something I used to do all the time but have strayed away from because of how distracting this life gets. God should always have been there in my thoughts, even when I would be out at a group event. But the past is in the past and that's where it'll stay, and in the past are the sins that were cast as far as the east is from the west and there they will stay. No need to regret now, God tells us not to. So I'm deciding to use this moment, this—I don't want to say opportunity—predicament (that might be a better word) to start over. Every day is another chance, and, although mine are slim to none, this is another chance. I've just got to stay positive, and I can do that. Extremely optimistic person right here—unless I'm having a bad day or run, then I become excessively pessimistic, but I won't let that be something today. Not today.

I have the urge to stand. My heart pounds in my chest as worry dawns upon me, but I remind myself God said not to worry. Trust in Him with everything I have even if I have nothing, and right now that's about all I've got.

My brain warns me, adrenaline spiking through my body, reminding me of the dangers. Humans are very self-preservant and our bodies fight anything that could potentially kill us. And that's just what it's doing now: responding to the stimulating dangers of my environment, but I've got to adapt now. I can't be scared as I always am. I have to be unafraid.

God has me.

My vision wavers as I find my feet and use the wall to help me straighten my legs. As I incline, my vision broadens, and I can see the dead bodies lining the room. Some were dragged to the center and what's left is the empty carcass rotting away. Even my smell becomes greater, but fades away once my body realizes this is the environment now and it has to become accustomed to it. Eyes dart over to me, some fearful, some triumphant, but all full of hope. Some more than others, but there is hope. The hope God has given them of being set free one way or another.

In the same way, I feel that hope rising inside of me (it's not just a wave of relief to stand as my body tingles with anxiety), and I find my breath. The vampires begin to wander closer to me; one even dares to push a hand out and touch my ratty hair, watching it with curiosity. I hold in a scream as my chest lurches for air, my brain blank.

"You can't defeat us," I whisper, my voice hollow and nearly silent as it slips past my lips. "You will never prevail when it comes to God's unlimited power."

The girl vampire smirks, the one that had touched my hair. She thrusts her hand forward and wraps her fingers around my neck, squeezing.

"Your god is invisible, intangible, and never there when you need him."

"If He was—" I choke out, gasping on air as every fiber in my body cries out for me to shut up. "Then how—could I be—safe from your fangs?"

"Enough, Sam," a male toward the back of the pack hisses. "We aren't allowed to touch the Christians. The experiment will never be complete if we do."

Sam, the girl vampire crushing my trachea, grunts and releases me as I collapse to the floor, hand caressing my neck, and coughing like there's something wrong with my throat. Anger boils up inside of my ribcage and I clench one of my fists. I've never been able to become friends with my anger, it would always lash out at the nearest victim or pile up inside of me. I never know what to do with it.

But right now I do. People say Christians aren't supposed to grow angry. I recoil with Jesus overturning the tax collectors tables in the temple. I should be angry for the things God would be angry at.

And so I am.

# Chapter Seven

†

My knees crack as I stand again, my fiancé's jacket pocket heavy with the small Bible Markus had lent to me for the time being. In my peripheral vision, I see all eyes on me, cautiously watching my every move as the tension crackles at a rapid increase between the bloodstained walls. The vampires wandering in the center hiss at me as my heart pounds in my chest, ready to rip through the bone and skin holding its hyperactiveness captive. Modes drift before my eyes as my breathing becomes much of a trouble, thickening like a large mass of spider webs as each intake tangles between my ribcage. Cold fear trickles down my veins as I stare the unholy creatures in the eyes. They cannot defeat me; I won't let them. God willing.

"Sit down, pitiful human, and say your prayers. It might just be your last," the woman who had crushed my airways hisses while a smirk stretches her paper-thin skin. Her features are sunken in—probably from lack of blood—but I can see where the deception of her gorgeous face would have been, below the black branch-like veins raised off her skull, stretching her skin outward, and darkening the caverns beneath her murky red eyes. My hands tremble at the sight of her, at my attention to detail. I clench them into fists.

"Would you like me to pray for you first, then?" I ask, my voice cracking betwixt the syllables. I try to sound nice; it just doesn't come out that way.

She utters a questionable sound my way. I press on.

"It feels rude to say it, but I think you need all the prayers you can get. You all do."

"What are you doing?"

I snap my head to the right, where the voice had come from. A girl, seeming older than I am, stares at me with wide, reddened, sleepless eyes, her body caked in and tinted with dried blood.

"Stop egging them on!" she pleads.

For a moment, I wonder if she's right. But in my heart, I know she isn't. This is something I need to do—I've hardly stood up for anything my entire life. I've hardly stood up for _God_ my entire life. All the arguments and scriptures I've had aloud all came out as hot frustrations as I tried to understand the world I was no longer connected to due to my faith. They'd either be in my writings or in my music or with, and at, my now fiancé, Tobias. I can't always be so passive. Especially now. I've got to let this anger, this fighting for God's side fuel me, and let God do the talking. I've got to be angry for what God would be angry towards. And although revenge isn't in my vocabulary (well, it's just not something I do), I know that revenge is God's, and I shouldn't take it into my own hands. The best thing I could ever do is pray for them and stand up for what I believe, for what is right, even if my life is on the line.

I shake my head slowly and turn my attention back to the hoard of vampires, who have crept closer in my distraction. I shake my head again, false confidence slipping into my veins as my body begins to quiver.

God, give me the confidence to stand up for what is right.

"My body aches, my stomach is empty, and I'd like to pee somewhere else besides in a bucket, but I will stand up for myself, for God, and for every Christian you've ever taken hostage, even if it kills me."

A few of the vampires chuckle. Some hoot and holler; catcalls ring through the dead, metallic-smelling air. A few seem worried, and a handful almost looks... hopeful.

"Bold words from such a scrawny girl," the male vampire who had told Sam to back off snorts, crossing his arms.

I clench my jaw. I've never had a way with words, especially in an argument like this. But my brain starts to move faster, putting points and loose ends together—it does that sometimes, and I can't seem to slow it down. Why would I ever want to?

"Such venomous words from someone who can't drink my blood without losing his teeth."

He grits his teeth and jabs a finger at me angrily. "Whatever it is inside of you that refuses to give in, I will smother it, mark my words."

"Where, on the wall?" I ask, my tongue acidic. _Who am I right now? What am I thinking?_

I bend down to wipe some almost dry blood off the ground, my fingers quaking as adrenaline makes them tingle. I get like this too, sometimes. Rebellious and striving to prove a point. I wish I didn't get like this...

"Whatever... it... is..." I murmur as my finger paints the words on the wall. Reminds me of _Harry Potter_. Reminds me that I should be disgusted right now. I should be curling into a ball in a corner and sitting still, reading the Bible, probably crying my eyes out, awaiting my death from mal-nutrition, but no. I had to let the competitive side out of me. I had to show them they didn't have the upper hand. "What did you say next; I don't remember," I ask, turning around as I bend to swipe some more blood.

In a split second, the man has disappeared and materialized beside me, his right fist drawn back and his muscles taught across his sturdy bones. My breath catches in my throat, and I let it out slowly, a hissing sound created from the action.

"Do it," I spit as he hesitates.

"Krogstad," the vampire named Sam calls out lurchingly, taking a cautious step forward. "Don't throw away the experiment."

The man with the strange name growls audibly and misses my ear by a hair, his fist colliding with the white wall as it collapses beneath his brute force. His face is inches from mine, anger the only thing boiling inside of me as the tension stiffens between us.

"I guess you'll be the first," I croak, my voice escaping me once again. The only fear I felt was of him hurting me physically. He can't pierce my skin with his fangs; he can only lay hands on me and kill me that way. Never will I stumble in my faith again, not with the struggles at hand here in the Blood Room. I've never been the leader type, although I liked the thought of it. _Animorphs_ by K. A. Applegate had me connecting with myself on a different level. Rachel was me; blonde, ferocious (trust me, it's the right word), headstrong, and willing to take anything on. My point is, I was never the leader type, just like Rachel was, but now I have to take that role. Or at least, I feel like I need to. I need to be Jake, the leader of the _Animorphs_. (Side note: no one ever knows what I mean when I talk about _Animorphs._ )

Let me decode that reference: I need to step up and stop being a passivist. Jesus was tolerant when he needed to be, spoke when he needed to, and stood for his Father and the faith and hope he delivered upon all of us.

"I'll pray for you," I say. I meant it. I would pray. I want to find a way to help them redeem themselves.

He turns his stiff head to face me, his predator red eyes locking on mine. I hold his gaze. My body tingles with anticipation, with adrenaline. But I hold it. He will not strike fear into me. The Lord says not to fear. So I will try my hardest not to.

"You're going to be needing to pray for a lot more than a lost soul," he growls, yanking his fist from the wall. He turns sharply and heads back into the vampires littering the center of the room.

I take a step to stabilize myself, sucking in a deep breath of air. I'd done it. I'd stood through it!

A pang of joy rips warmly through my chest and I smile. It disappears at the hands of the words 'what the actual heck was I thinking?' I begin to relapse in the moment, worrying about the next and the repercussions of this.

I shake my head.

God's got me.

Repeat it twice more.

Find the ground.

Sit. For a long time.

And breathe.

†

"That was brave."

My eyes open to see Markus sitting next to me.

I press my palms against my closed eyes. I could feel the grumpiness shifting in my chest. No sleep. I needed sleep to stay sharp, to remember and to equip myself with the Word. I feel like death is clawing at my skin, my eyes, my bones, as constant adrenaline wisps find their way into my bloodstream. Hunger rips through me and yet I feel like I'm going to puke. My body is backed up in the suckiest ways and all I want to do is lie down and sleep. I almost want to die. Almost.

"Thanks," I groan as I lift my head and lean against the wall. I suddenly start to think about home. I miss it. I miss my family, I miss Tobias...

My eyes shift to my engagement ring and tears leap to my eyes. I never thought crying would be possible until the first tear falls. And then they don't stop.

My body quivers with the shudders of delusions coming from my tear ducts. They feed us scraps. They water us like plants or dogs.

_Tobias..._ I cry mentally.

I feel Markus' hand on my back. It doesn't startle me. I don't pull away. In any other situation I would have. Change is upon me and stroking my insides as if they were a cat. I longed to see my family, wanted to be in my bed, wishing I would wake up from this nightmare terrorizing me every moment between every blink—the nanosecond I get where this world disappears. The only problem is that it reappears.

"Not so strong now, are you, girl?" A low voice rumbles to my ears and I snap my eyes up, gritting my teeth. My body shudders with a wave of anger as the vampire laughs out loud and walks away. Part of me wants to lurch towards him. The other wishes to stay and continue crying, only to dehydrate myself and die from it. But the feeling of dehydration would make me panic and I'd go into survival mode. Not to mention I'd grow increasingly irritable and I wouldn't be able to focus on the task at hand.

"Revenge is God's," Markus whispers. I scowl.

"Revenge isn't what I'm wanting," I whisper, sniffling loudly and wiping the excess snot on the sleeve of Tobias' jacket. For the third and, hopefully, not last time, I stand up.

"I'm not afraid of you." My unnecessary shouting slices through the still, blood-scented air as another tear slips down my cheek. "It's you that is afraid."

I place the hand I'd jabbed a blood-stained finger at them with at my side and clench it. My exhale slithers through my clenched teeth as my eyes shift over the snarling vampires. "And you should be."

# Chapter Eight

†

Hisses sizzle throughout the room as the vampires take offense to my words. My heart trembles in my chest as Tobias' jacket warms my cold, aching body, and is like armor in my mind. An extra layer of protection.

I take a deep, shaky breath. Markus is still sitting by my feet, staring off in the distance, a war raging across his irises. Several other eyes match his, swarming with tsunamis of mixed emotions.

"You've got some nerve, little girl," the male vampire growls threateningly as he stalks back around toward me, jabbing a finger in my direction. "Aren't Christians supposed to be _obedient_?" He chuckles, smiling sickly as the tables tilt in his favor, the other vampires trudging close behind him. "Aren't you supposed to be _nice_ and _love_ others?"

I grit my teeth and dig my nails into my palms, not feeling the sharp pain because of the adrenaline coursing through my body. I hold myself back. Hold my tongue. Take a breath. My tongue is too quick for me sometimes and moves before I can think.

My hands tingle.

I settle back onto my heels, crossing my arms over my chest, my burning chest.

"I said I'd pray for you. Isn't that considered nice?"

"It's not if it's unwanted!" He shouts, black veins growing beneath the pale skin suffocating his neck.

"Do you know what praying is?" I ask, taking a daunting step forward.

"Worshipping your primitive and invisible God. Praising yourself so you can get into your 'Heaven'. Praying that others fail so you can succeed."

I shake my head, my heart aching for these creatures. "It's communicating with the highest power there is, and praying for someone..." I move my hands as I talk, growing excited through the oppression at hand. "Asking the God I worship to help you through a troubled time or a moment where you go against the odds and we ask for your success... That's the best thing in the world anyone can do for you." My eyes find the vampire's, steam almost coming from his ears. "Anger shouldn't be your first emotion when someone says that, and you shouldn't be offended. You should feel happy that someone cares that much for you."

He lets out a shallow growl. "You don't even know me."

"That doesn't mean I don't care."

"Of course it does!" His voice comes out gravelly and his eyes flash with rage. He wants to attack me, I know it. This sends tingles raging through my fingertips. Never have I really had a spine. But now that death is on the line, I seem to have miraculously grown one—and maybe not for the better.   
"No one has ever cared for me and no one ever will. If your God was real, I wouldn't have had the life I did and people would care about me."

I shake my head. "Bad things don't happen by the hands of God. We're given free will—"

"Why give it to us when He knows his people will disobey and not believe in him?"

"If he controlled every aspect of our life, we'd rebel anyway."

He opens his mouth to protest but snaps it shut, the black veins around his eyes throbbing and pulsing with rage. And then he exhales with his next sentence.

"You don't know that."

"Have you read any dystopian books?" I asked.

He stares at me for a moment. For the first time in my life, I've rendered someone speechless. Over God. I remember ranting about arguments like these, arguments I never stood up for because I didn't want to offend anyone—because I didn't like confrontation. But I feel strong. I feel as if God has his hands on me and is smiling. Deny God in front of your peers and Jesus will deny you in front of His Father. I wish I was more equipped with the Word, but I've contemplated God and His everything for forever now, so I'm equipped in that way. I'm equipped in the "what if" way. And, unlike some people, I know that some things aren't meant to be answered.

"You're a piece of—"

He finishes that sentence. It sends a shock through my heart and I'm taken aback. Oh, how I hate cuss words. But I shake my head as a small smile forms.

"Calling names when you lose isn't good sportsmanship," I quip. Probably shouldn't have said that.

Oh well. Can't take back what's already been said, no matter how much you want to.

"This isn't some game, Kyla," he hisses as the vampires around the room stay silent.

"You're right," I shrug, adrenaline forcing my mouth to move and my hands to shake as I fold them over my chest. "It's a test."

I find the ground and sit. Defiantly. I don't know what's gotten into me, but something has.

"What?" He laughs. "God's testing you?"

"God doesn't test anyone," I say, cracking open the Bible. I can see my hands quivering like those small dogs with very little fur. "However, it's you testing us. Vampires verses Christians. All because if you try to kill us, you take our place in death." My eyes flick up to his. I'm dancing too close to the flames. I'm standing on a fault line, too close to danger to catch myself when the ground crumbles beneath my feet. "So test away."

†

"Everybody on their feet!"

The door slams open as the lights shut off. I jump out of my skin, my heart kick-starting. A scream pierces the air, followed by a gurgle and the sound of choking. Someone else has died. I shiver.

The fluorescent lighting from the hallway outside outlines a woman, her hands on her hips and her feet shoulder-width apart, radiating confidence. It's the woman who kidnapped me, I'm absolutely sure of it. But what in the world is going on?

Before I can ask aloud, Markus hisses under his breath, "They call it Tribulation."

I shudder. The last book in the Bible flashes across my mind, one I've read nearly three times in awe and morbid curiosity. Revelation. The prophecy of the Second Coming. And all of the horrors included.

"Welcome to the Blood Room, boys and girls." I can hear the smugness in her voice. I've already had this introduction, and I'm sure the others have too. And if they've gone through this— _Tribulation,_ a few times before, __ I'm sure they've been reminded of where they are several times if she starts it like this.

God be with us.

"You Christians have a new addition to your wretched family," she spits. "To prolong the fun, I'll explain the rules once again for her to get accustomed to the new world she entered only four days ago."

Her head moves. I swear she's looking directly at me—I can feel her eyes burning on my tingling skin as a breath shudders past my teeth. A chill washes over me, bathing my flesh in the beginning of a cold sweat. I reach into Tobias' pocket— _oh, Tobias..._ —and clutch the Bible with all my life, my heart swelling in my chest as I beg silently to God to keep me safe. And to keep my impossible, random anger in check before I can figure out how to save these malevolent creatures from the deep hole they've tripped into or willingly gave themselves to.

She chuckles darkly, sending another shiver down my spine.

The door slams shut behind her. Her eyes glow red in the darkness of the room, more laughter and hisses rising in the black crushing my body. I can't see. I'm blinded.

I begin to hyperventilate.

I close my eyes and shrink to the floor.

The Bible bends beneath my grip.

I can't see. Anything.

I open my eyes as wide as they can go, willing myself to see, but all I see are the modes shifting before my eyes, sending fear into my brain.

Someone is standing before me.

I grit my teeth. Make an effort to breathe. Can't.

"Oh, poor little Kyla..."

The woman. It's her squatting there.

"What do you have there?"

Her eyes flash red.

Her hands grip the Bible.

Begins to lift it from my hands.

I grip harder, and then find my right fist connecting with her rock-hard jaw, a pop silencing the room. My breath and heartbeat is the only thing I can hear. _What had I just done?_

God, help.

She chuckles, just as dark as before. I shove the Bible in my fiancé's jacket, tears in my eyes.

"Scared of the dark, little girl?" She says humoredly. I can see a faint outline of her, shaking her head as he eyes glint again.

"Not a bit." My voiceless whisper quakes. _Just of not being able to see._

She snickers. Sighs exasperatedly. "Fine. Keep your faith item. It won't keep you from our bite."

"It has so far," I mutter immediately, unable to catch them before they flew the coop.

She laughs out of surprise. "What happened to you, girl? You were so quiet when I met you."

"Situations change people," I say, my voice quivering but icy cold.

The woman laughs and I hear her stand, my eyes adjusting slowly. I hear the vampires in the room grow restless, making sounds and shuffling around, sounding like lightly rustled leaves. The silence crushes me all the more as I hear the woman speak again, making my blood frigid and my heart skip beats. "Then this situation will make you do a one-eighty."

# Chapter Nine

†

When I was younger, I'd hide under the covers in the darkness. My brain would tell me that monsters (or ghosts) would get me if I didn't hide. Didn't help I was fascinated with ghost stories. No, I was never scared of the dark. I was always afraid of what was in the dark and of what I cannot see.

I would cover my head and leave a hole for me to breathe, afraid I would suffocate. Eventually, I read a _Goosebumps_ book ("The Girl Who Cried Monster", one of my favorites), and there was something about eating toes or something. Whether I'm right or wrong doesn't matter—what matters is that's what I remembered. And it freaked me out. So I started tucking my feet in the blankets and refused to do the leg-out-if-I-got-hot thing because of it. And then I got a little braver and moved the blanket down, only covering my ear because I liked watching the Discovery Channel with "The Most Dangerous Whatever Countdown Thing," and I didn't want any bugs nesting in my ears. Then I got really brave and uncovered my whole head.

What was the purpose of this story? To show you what the fear of what's in the dark has done to me. I don't do fear well. And I don't do blindness well. And now, sitting in the dark, _knowing_ there's something threatening that can kill me... imagine what that is doing to my brain. And the anticipation of what they're going to do is making it one hundred times worse.

The woman's eyes glowed red in the darkness suddenly, and the others repeated the action with a low hissing noise. It stretched on for about five seconds, and then everything went silent and their glowing eyes disappeared. Breaths seemed to be held all around the room, and I had the feeling I was about to learn why this room was named what it is.

Low rumbles— _growls_ —broke through the silence, and an ear-piercing howl makes my skin crawl and my breath hitch as my brain becomes light and my blood runs cold. Bloodcurdling screams erupt all around me and I clutch the Bible in my tingling hands, air greeting my throat only to flee from my lungs.

I cry out in pain as rows of teeth clamp onto my arm, and I try to tug it away, unsuccessful. In the darkness, I can make out a being on all fours. It can't be a... _werewolf..._ could it?

"I wouldn't doubt it," I hiss aloud to myself through the impossible pain flaring through my arm and up to my shoulder. The jaw repositions, unclamping and reclamping, introducing a whole new world of pain. I don't do pain well, and I've known this forever. Except in like, third grade, when I tried to be tough.

Tears stream down my cheeks as I repeatedly slam my bloody fists on the snout of whatever is biting me. My throat aches from shouting at it, pleading for it to let go. It growls as a pair of hands take my other arm.

"Help me," I beg over the heart-wrenching sounds of torture and terror ringing in my ears. A loud chuckle is what I receive as a response, and acidic dread drops into my stomach, turning it inside out. These hands aren't here to help me.

The freezing hands pull me until my shoulders can't stretch any longer, and I feel my muscles lengthening in painful, unnatural ways. I cry out once more, tears exploding from my stinging eyes. I can feel the paper-cut-like stripes along my chapped lips, as a sob sneaks out from the depths of my chest and the hand's nails slice into my arm and pull downward.

"Welcome to the Tribulation," I hear the lady I'd snapped at in the darkness only a few moments ago, when everything was calm but crackling with nervous energy.

A whimper escapes my throat, and I feel my fear quaking inside of my bones, my body tense and sobs bubbling up from behind my sternum, tightening my chest because they can't go anywhere.

"God, please help me," I breathe through the terror streaking through my tired mind.

"The first test is here, now that we have enough of you Believers. Thirty of you. Thirty alive, and not dying anyway," the woman says, laughter trailing behind her remark. The world begins to tilt and shift around me, the darkness creating pictures that aren't really there. Tobias. My parents. My brother. Could they still be looking for me?

My eyes close and I wince in pain as the lights snap on, no warning beforehand. My chest aches and is tight and I can't hear anything over my rapid heartbeat that sets every nerve ending on fire.

Oh, God, please, please help me. Help us all...

My mouth moves with the thoughts as sobs escape in bubbles from behind my uvula.

"Let go," I plead, unable to actually find my voice as it cowers between my vocal chords. "Please let go of me. Please."

The wolf seems to almost smile and the girl holding my other bloody arm seems to glow with hunger, massive black veins crawling everywhere beneath her skin.

"There is no escape but death," the woman says, standing in the center of the room and turning in a slow circle. "There is no escaping the Blood Room."

Her eyes land on me and I feel a sliver of foolish pride cut through my chest and break through the incredible pain, tickling my nerves like an itch I can't scratch.

"Unless you die."

I'd like to say I said something back, something smart. But I didn't. And I don't. And I won't. I hold my tongue, but she can never hold my life in her hands. It is simply God's and will always be.

The woman smirked as her eyes dim back to a deep red color, unamused at my lack of words. As she turns from me, my eyes lull around the room to take in the damage. Everyone is held by at least one beast—a vampire or wolf—their blood mixing together on the floor, and mine dripping to add to theirs. It's like, as we live through this masochistic nonsense, we all become one, just like we are one in Christ. Or perhaps it's the lack of blood going to my head. Perhaps not.

"Trial number one is complete. Was completed when you stepped through these doors—unconscious or not." The woman's eyes snap over to a girl who glares at her from across the room, two wolves biting into her flesh. Traces of makeup covers her face and speckles of blood taint her pale skin. I would have mistaken her for a vampire if she wasn't being held down.

"You survived your first attack. Or, some of you, second." Her pupils focus on me now as the scene made in the bathroom flickers before me.

I remember I didn't get to wash my hands. As if that's the most important thing right now.

"Trial two is underway, and you will never see it coming. As most of you may know by now, you are our Guinea pigs. Test subjects. Experiment variables. And now, you are considered hosts."

Her words are like ramble in my head. I don't want to listen. I want them to let go of me. I squirm, but that only makes them hold tighter.

"Creatures of darkness, come forth," the woman says, sending chills down my aching spine.

Murmurs circle the room, unintelligible words coming from the monsters' mouths. As the wolf and vampire release me, I utter a sound of pain and fall to the ground, my muscles exhausted as I curl into a ball, no longer concerned with whose blood it is I lay in or whether that person is dead or alive. I stare into the abyss of white nothingness toward the other side of the room as tears stream down the side of my face and mix with the liquid that runs thicker than water.

I hear the door shut and the lights turn off, leaving me in the blackness. Not once do I wonder what the second trial consists of, or why all the vampires and wolves, even the vampires that had been loitering around from the moment of my arrival, have all left.

I focus on breathing.

# Chapter Ten

†

The wolf is rolled off of me, followed by grunts. Two men stand over me, bloody and heaving air to and from their lungs. My eyes trail down to the older ones hand, a small silver dagger dripping with blood. I'm too stunned to talk as he slips it back into his haggard boot.

"They never knew I had it."

I can only nod as my eyes trail to the dead wolf, her blood reddening the orange-tainted floor. It had been a girl only moments before... Is that murder? Or self-defense? And is heaven too far for her now? And is it too far for us?

"You killed that girl!" A woman shouts, standing.

"She would have killed us all," the older man says breathily as the wolf to his right begins to growl at him. He who holds the weapon.

" _Thou shalt not murder_!" A teenage boy rings out, his blind outrage falling upon deaf ears.

"It's called self-defense," the second man, the younger one, counters steadily, eyes studying me.

Through the bickering, the second transformed wolf dares to stalk nearer, thunderous rumbling erupting from its throat as the third hangs back.

The man lifts the dagger and the wolf takes a step back, hungrily eyeing the man.

"Mom!"

My attention glides to a girl hugging herself and staring at the second wolf with eyes filled to the brim with fear. She looks to be fifteen, her lip trembling. The wolf takes her in and begins to make its way to her.

"Mom," she whimpers through a sob and a sniffle. My heart goes out to her and I'm tempted to jump in front of this wolf too, but my body won't let me move.

The wolf stops dead in its tracks, staring at her, studying her, and I watch as it shakes its head and whimpers, backing away. It collides with the other wolf and they both fall to the floor, whining. The bigger wolf, the assumed mother of the girl, wails as she scrambles up and presses her back to the wall beside the door, her eyes wide. She howls and the second follows, crying out and curling into a ball into the corner as the mother lets out another moan that cuts directly through my heart. She then quiets, crumpled up on the wall, harmless for the moment or so.

"I think it's all right now, miss," the man grunts, eyes still stalking the mother that has turned to a wolf.

I take a shaky breath as a tear betrays me and caresses my cheek. I wipe it away, triple the amount of blood appearing on my face, I'm sure of it. It's all over my hands.

The man with the dagger walks over to me and holds out his hand, his figure alert. I study the man's face. Graying hairs line his cheeks and his upper lip, making him look gruffer than he actually is with his hefty, yet somehow bony, body and tattered shirt.

"The name's Ranger," he says in his scruffy, southern voice. "You bit?"

"Huh?" I ask, still shaking as I look up at him wide-eyed and sniffle.

"She bite ya?"

I shake my head, swallowing what had happened and gulping nervously as my eyes dart over to the two wolves, the only present danger at the moment. "No. But I know what's happening to us."

All eyes turn to me and I feel my face flush. A knot chokes the air from my throat as I have to laugh at myself, my eyes drying up, now that the sudden burst of horror is over. I could have lost my life. Thank God I didn't. Or maybe it would have been better...

I shake my head and press my lips together, the warm blood beginning to cool against my skin as I hug my fiancé's jacket closer and spin my ring around my finger. I was never one for speaking in front of people—or, well, I used to be. And then I moved from a small town to a big suburb where all the houses are mansions and everyone practically ignored or excluded me. Oh, high school. Senior year. I might think it's worse than it really was, but man, am I glad I'm out.

"The werewolves—um..." I hesitate. My fascination has become legitimate and my knowledge in this area is useful for once. Hopefully. "Who was all bitten by a wolf?"

My eyes slowly drift around the room, taking in the shaking raised hands, and those on their way to being held up. The fear on everyone's faces is insane, and I can feel it stringing across my own.

"All of you go to one side of the room, the rest to the other." The air begins to fill with chatter and dubious remarks. "Please! I bellow over the voices. "Please, you have to trust me."

I'm eyed cautiously, my whole body shaking and aching. I just want to sit. But there's only one thing we can really do right now, and that's separate the bitten from the safe.

The wolves are the first to move, surprisingly, and everyone lurches at their sudden lioness. Their heads hang low as the trudge, and I freeze as they advance right past me without a second glance. Once they're close to the end of the room, they lay down side-by-side, making noises as they look up at us with the saddest emotion I've ever seen. They stumbled. They had one doubt. And they fell, only to find... What?

"I don't know how long the wolves will stay quiet," I tell the people around me. As they quiet. "I'd move, now. It's the only option. Please."

One-fourth of the room hesitantly gets up and hurriedly gets away from those that had raised their hands. My eyes catch on Markus, who stands with eyes dulled and shoulders slumped, as he moves over with the safe. They stay by the door. The bitten move to the other end. There's so many of us... And so little of them.

Team human. Teem soon-to-be-werewolf. And werewolves.

"Werewolves were a legend that began in Europe," I say, repeating the knowledge I held from a story I'd written when I was thirteen about vampires and werewolves. Who knew I'd be standing in the midst of something like that story and actually be able to put my brain to good use about these terrible creatures who are most always romanticized in media? "One scratch or bite could infect someone. A scratch would reveal fur growth in the wound, and a bite would be a bite. And the full moon changes them, et cetera, but there are also legends of them changing by choice. In _Dracula_ , he controls them or something, somehow. And then, like vampires, are said to be, like, demons or something, but..." My eyes trail to the two wolves. "Because of the Holy Spirit... In the Bible, Christians can't be possessed by demons because we have the Holy Spirit inside us. That seems to be the same for being bit by vampires—it protects us from their bite. And He never leaves us nor forsakes us... So... this is puzzling."

"I say we kill them all."

All eyes snap to Ranger, who has murder in his eyes. He holds his dagger with white knuckles, nostrils flared.

"They don't pose a threat to us unless they lose faith," I say, doubtful of my own plea.

"You don't know that."

"Look at those wolves!" I cry, flinging an aching arm into the air. "They're completely at ease right now. Or—they're—" I struggle for the word, "—calm. Ish. There's some human left in them."

"You weren't saying that about the one that attacked you."

I exhale sharply to this statement, frustration making my chest burn with intolerable anger. My hands tingle and my head begins to grow light.

I hold my tongue.

But what's the use?

"Who else agrees?"

Two unbitten raise their hands as they stare at me and the opposite side. We will be werewolves soon, and we'll all fall like dominoes. Only if we can't help it. And the unbitten agree—I can see it in their eyes. They're afraid and outnumbered. In tough situations, humans fight. But in something so uneven like this, we, as humans, hesitate. Risk our lives, or keep our hearts beating for another day? And I can see this hesitation, this moment of doubt that good can really be good against all odds and evil can be conquered. And it can. Until it rises up again. And it will be defeated again and so the circle circles, round and round until the Lord comes to bring us home and peace descends onto the earth.

One figure rises within this hesitation, his hair disheveled and his face dirty and untrimmed. Markus, of all people, stands and locks eyes with me, and nods.

"Give them a chance," he says over the still hush the room has crept into. "God makes all things good, even from sin and the ruins created to bar Him out. Give them a chance to keep their faith."

Silence followed. A shuffle here and there. But still silent, all the same. As humans, we either like to think the best of people or the worst. The good thing about being a Christian is we're trained to see the glimmer of hope even within a thick, black pool of disdain and darkness. And I hope that's what I am witnessing right now. Otherwise, only God could stop this potential massacre.

# Chapter Eleven

†

The unbitten sit across from us, half of them glaring while the other half stare at us like deer in headlights. I suppress my anger toward them, even though it itches at the back of my throat because I understand. I'd be terrified too. And I am. Terrified I'll crumble and lose the faith. I've wavered before, but the measures were _never_ this drastic. And we all stumble. But asking for forgiveness from yourself and God, and then turning from that sin, that's when we've truly been forgiven. And sometimes I have a hard time forgiving myself.

This is that sometime.

This terrible, terrible thing isn't my fault. But that first girl, whatever her name was, she died. And I feel like I'm to blame. Why? I've no idea. But I know the syrupy, sticky, black depression is sprouting within my chest and it's making it hard to breathe. I'm beginning to beat myself up for something I can't control.

My head hits the wall, barely resonating its touch in my brain as a tear slips down my face and I sniffle. I focus on Tobias. His voice. His smile. It's always been hard for me to conjure up the image of his face for more than a moment, and I believe it's because I'm afraid I'll eventually picture it differently due to the brain's habit of changing something every time you recall it. But I know what it feels like when I put my arms around him, and my heart aches for it now. His laugh sends another tear down my cheek and I cover my face with my dirty, unwashed hands. I remember the few times we fought and I almost lost him, and how much it tore me apart inside. And it stings, knowing we might just have lost each other forever.

A sob slips out past my lips and I bring my knees up to my chest, my throat tightening to unsuccessfully keep the noises of mourning at bay. A hand touches my shoulder, startling me. A woman with kind eyes gives me a small reassuring smile, and I hastily wipe away the tears from my cheeks.

"Sorry," I mutter. I hate when people see me cry. I feel so... weak. Even in this situation, how strange and terrible it is.

She presses her lips together, forming a line as she shakes her head. "It's okay. I understand."

I sniffle. She continues to talk, and I welcome the distraction.

"I have two kids back at home. A girl and a boy. Rachel is eight, and Tony is six. They're my world." Her voice breaks, and I feel a lump rise in my throat. "I'm a single mother. Got pregnant from a one-night-stand. Changes your entire life, you know." She pauses here, reminiscing. "Rachel was one when a friend offered to take me to church, a place I hadn't been in a very, very long time."

She looks down at her hands as she tangles them around each other.

"I said no," she goes on, drawing in a ragged breath. "At first. And then she told me that they could babysit Rachel while I attended. I was convinced she wanted me to believe this fairytale of perfection and a God that would love me through everything and anything. I rolled my eyes at her, but I knew she wasn't going to shut up until I agreed. So I told her, 'Maybe next time.' She believed me and it got her off my back for a week. She told me she was about to go that following Sunday, and I told her I wasn't feeling well. So," she laughs, a tear slipping down her face. "She brought me some soup. It wasn't heated up or anything; she bought it from the store on her way home. I knew she knew I was lying, but something about her just kinda... seemed like she didn't care if I was or not. She was going to help take care of me anyway."

"She's a good friend," I say, burrowing my chin into my elbow as I watched her young yet weathered face as it reached into the past and pulled the memories directly into the brain it hides. Her talking about her friend forms a knot in my throat as I think about all the ones I've left behind. Not because of this situation, but because of the distance. Mercedez', my best friend since seventh grade whom I never talked to anymore because I was always so busy, Molly, who I would talk to not as often as I should have. I vow to myself this will all change once I get out of this place.

_If_ I get out of this place.

"The best." She picks at her cuticles as if to distract herself from the painful truth: we may never see the people who have made even the smallest difference in our lives again.

"She died that same day in a wreck." Her voice clenches like a fist and it takes a moment for her to recover. "Right after she said goodbye. She told me that if I was feeling better, I could go to the evening service with her, or I could meet her there—I knew the way, after all. And when I heard about the wreck not an hour later... I couldn't pull myself together. I was dazed and I felt empty and... incomplete. My daughter wanted attention that I couldn't give her then. And the only thing in my mind was to take her to the daycare at the church. They could entertain her. They could play with her while I picked up the pieces inside of me. She was my friend for five years, and she was there for everything. She lived right next door to me.

"So I took Rachel to the daycare center. The people at the church didn't ask questions. All they did was smile and told me a time to pick her up at. I lingered outside the doors and I felt like I should enter the church, but I didn't. A week passed and I went to her funeral. Closed casket. I didn't even get to see her face once more before she began to rot away. And while I sat in the pews and listened to the man say beautiful words that should have had no meaning in my heart, I realized they did. And I told myself that just once, I'd go to church for her. The next day I was saved and I knew we'd see each other again."

A soft smile plays on her lips as she picks at her fingers once again.

I give a small smile back and turn my attention back to the room, trying not to get lost in my own thoughts. The woman startled me when she spoke up again.

"My point is," she says, "is that you aren't alone. And crying isn't a sign of weakness; when you cry, it's when you've realized you've been broken. And broken people can either face the problem and solve it, or stay broken. It's only weakness if you give up. And I don't think you've given up yet."

I wipe a tear from my cheek, afraid to hear the answer to the question I was about to pose. "And why is that?"

"Because you're still you."

"You don't even know me," I mutter. _I don't even know me._

"True," she sighs, her eyes finally resting on me. "But you've befriended Markus. I heard him speaking to you when you first arrived. He's been here the longest out of any of us. And if you can hold his trust during a time when things are changing in our terrible world, in our horrific room, then I know you haven't lost anything that you crossed those doors with."

I'm silent as the room buzzes with murmurs and uncomfortable chatter. The wolves lay in their corners and the bitten across from the unbitten. For the moment, everything is at peace. For the moment, I almost believe we can make it out of here alive.

All of us.

†

Over the years, humans have been tempted and ruled by evil, they have used scare tactics and torture to scare people into betraying the person who hires them or turn from the God they believe in. Most of the time it works.

And then there are stubborn people like me. It's hard for me to admit to something when I've already said what I've said about it. Very hard. Even harder to get a "sorry" out of me if I know I'm right (even when I'm not). But if you try and scare me out of my belief and relationship with God, it'll only draw me closer to Him. Always has, always will. And this situation both with the vampires and werewolves is no different.

Someone cries out. Another werewolf. Every human, bitten or unbitten rises to their feet, some ready to fight, others ready to run. To where, I've no idea.

Even my nerves spike as I watch the transformation. Another scream makes my ears ring as the girl beside me drops to the floor, writhing.

"No, God! No, God, please! Please save me!"

She jerks once more, fur growing from her pores, and then stills, her eyes glazing over. My heart is electric in my chest as my veins turn to ice and my stomach contorts. I swallow everything welling up in my mouth and wipe away a stray tear. She doubted for only a moment. But in the end, she regained her faith. Or so it sounded like it. Anyone who calls upon the name of the Lord is heard. Perhaps she was heard at the right moment.

Two more people yelp as their bodies begin to shift at a disturbing rate. A boy and a man. The man's eyes are filled with fear as he witnesses his transformation, his shouting turning to whimpers, and I feel my heart wrench in my chest as my stomach drops even lower.

The boy, on the other hand, his panic turns to growls as he crouches down and stalks forward toward the bitten, the closest thing to him. He continues to grow, and stops when he nearly touches the ceiling with his rounded back. His teeth are bared, and the bitten begin to make their way toward the unbitten, who decline our closeness with anguish.

"Stay away from us!" A woman bellows, wrapping her arms around a little girl next to her. My heart pounds as the wolf lets out a high-pitched howl, and the other people that had turned into animals stand to their feet. Their eyes are immediately focused on the boy, and they are still.

"What's happening?" Someone whispers to no one.

"I think they've found their alpha."

The doors bust open and vampires flood the room. Screams erupt all around me as blood begins to splatter the floor.

I'm witnessing a massacre.

My chest pounds as I back myself into a corner, away from everyone, and watch with wide eyes. I can feel myself teetering like a toddler on a teeter-totter, fear beginning to course through my veins. I watch vampires sink their teeth into one person after another, and I hear shrieks as others transform. The vampires sink their teeth into the ones in mid-morph and suck them dry, trilling at the thrill of triumph as their laughs billow from their throats.

I can feel my body quiver as I realize I won't make it out of this alive.

"Do you want to pray?"

I jump at the sound of his voice, my eyes snapping up to his.

I can feel the question, _what would that do?_ on the tip of my tongue, but I don't make it known, aware I might just find the same fate as my fellow roommates—the ones falling down, absent of either blood or limbs. I'd call it cannibalism, but these monsters aren't human anymore. The vampires Buffy had slain don't hold a candle to these demons.

"Kyla," Markus says again, keeping his pupils focused on mine. "Would you like to pray?"

I gulp, feeling the bile swelling in my stomach start to stir and creep up my esophagus. I need a distraction, anything to keep me from dropping off the ledge I'm daring to look down. I can feel the need to pray like the necessity to sleep after an unnecessarily long afternoon.

I turn to him as he sits next to me, unaware of the two vampires and werewolf not three feet away from us, tearing someone else limb by limb. I will myself not to cry, but a tear trickles down my face. I can't help but hope they lived their lives right and tried to follow Jesus' example to the best of their ability—and that they made it to the place we all long for: heaven.

"Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed by thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven."

A sudden peace washes over me, and no longer am I afraid as a few tears freely flowed down my face and dropped to the stained floor. Our eyes are closed, our heads are bowed, and I can feel God with us.

"Give is this day, our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen."

"Amen," I whisper.

The world comes back to us, and there's a sudden strength in my limbs. I stand, Tobias' jacket moving with the weight of the Bible in my pocket. Markus stands with me as another tear falls from my eyes.

"You can't break us," I state. A few vampires turn to look at me, their faces bloody. I can barely see anything through the ruckus. Someone disintegrates.

"It's you again." Krogstad pulls himself from the ruckus with little effort, the black veins around his eyes thinning and disappearing as he walks up to me. "The girl with balls. Sometimes," he laughs. "What do you want now? To tell me why Christians are superior to all others?"

"No," I say, my voice cracking. I clear my throat. "But I _do_ want to say," my heart is livid in my chest, "that we are more than just people with a common belief. And the belief we have is more than just a concept or a theory—it's a lifestyle and the truth."

He laughed at my remark.

"Why am I wasting my time with you?" He sneers, glancing around behind him. "Soon, we will have no limits as to what we can do."

"I'm still praying for you," I say, unsure whether it's to tick him off or to really tell him, but I honestly was. "I'm praying for all of you."

He shakes his head and laughs bitterly again, the black veins pulsing lightly as they slightly reappear.

"Well you can stop praying."

"I won't. We won't," I say, turning slightly toward Markus, who nods.

"Well then you'd better pray to me, because soon, I'll be God."

"Satan tried the same thing, and look where he is now."

"He's become a prince of this world—"

"But this world will fade away. The afterlife is forever, whether it be heaven or hell." I slightly shiver at the word. "And both places are very, very real, and it's your decision where you will end up. Narrow is the road, and I won't stop praying for you until the right road is beneath your feet."

The vampire comes closer, inches from my face, anger radiating from his skin. I refuse to become unsettled by his aggressive attempts to make me crumble, but it's one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do.

"I hope you stick around, horse-face," he sneers. I make a face. I don't look like a horse. "I'd like to see you in the last trial."

My eyes flutter in shock as I realize this. There's one last test. Worse than turning everyone into wolves. Worse than locking them up against their will for days on end. And it's nothing that they've said or done, I'm just really good at reading the gut feelings I have, and my gut is almost always right. It's the very reason why I'm so good at what I do outside of this horror house. And right now, my guy is telling me to be ready. The worst is yet to come.

# Chapter Twelve

†

When the vampires and the werewolves clear out, there are only twelve of us left. Twelve. Me, Markus, single mother I'd talked to, the girl I would have thought was a vampire if I didn't know better, the man that wanted to kill everyone who got bitten, and some others I haven't met yet. Bodies litter the floor, some faces I recognize from the past few days of staring sleeplessly at the miserable faces around the room, others I hadn't committed to memory. Ashes pile high around the room, and I wonder how many vampires has lost their lives—and their eternities—for good. They could have had another shot. You can never fall too far for God to be able to pick you back up.

I find myself sobbing quietly behind my fingers once again. I'm so weak—how have I made it this far?

_By the grace of God,_ I tell myself quietly, and sniffle loudly. I feel Markus place a hand on my shoulder, and I don't pull away this time. Right now, this is my family. Right now, this is my life, for better or worse, and I need to adapt quickly. I have to equip myself with God's words so I can use them, maybe, to help someone, _anyone_ keep the faith—or, in the vampires' case, find it.

I take a deep, shaky breath. I can do this. I can make it through.

"Things need to change," I mutter to Markus, sniffling and swallowing everything that just went down around us. It all happened so quickly... I almost don't believe any of it, and I feel as if I'm on the verge of sanity, pushing at the stitches keeping my head together. I keep my eyes on the pure, white ceiling, failing at keeping myself distracted. My stomach lurches, but nothing comes out. Tears spring from my eyes and my noises mix with the sadness of the others. I've not been here near as long as nearly any of them, most likely, and I can only imagine what they've seen that is keeping them calmer than I am. My eyes find Markus' face, and I can see the pain radiating from his tired eyes.

"It's natural to doubt," he says to me. "Although it shouldn't be done. Just like worrying and caving in to fear. God says not to do either of these things, and still we do, but he forgives us all the same. I think the real test is what you do in those moments of weakness."

My hand lifts to the scar the vampire has left on my neck, two small raised bumps, like two flea bites. He'd penetrated my skin, but the moment after, I'd remembered where my strength lays—with God, and it saved my life. _He_ saved my life.

"Something has to change," I repeat, my words strangled with the mucus coating everything inside me as my eyes continue to rain like dark, heavy clouds. If I was the sky, the storm would just be beginning to rumble beneath me.

It's a good while before Markus wraps his arm around me, and something inside my chest lifts. I've never been so comforted by a stranger in my entire life. Or, perhaps we aren't strangers any longer. Maybe, like I said earlier, we were family.

†

The stench of bodies only intensify over the next few hours. Or, at least it feels like hours. One by one, every one of us joined together in the spot Markus and I had been sitting, our legs growing numb as our hearts adjust to this new homeostasis as my sobs depleted. Four of the other girls were crying too, and even one of the boys. We finally get to the point of utter silence, almost able to hear the sounds of our own worn hearts breaking inside the cavities we call chests. It's the only thing we can feel. The only thing that seems alive, this pain, and this consciousness of it. The sound of death pressed against our bodies and opposed the terrible force by pressing our insides outward as well with the same sound. No words break the thick silence, and I feel like we've all accepted the fate we'd soon meet, the destination present all around us, one way or another. There is nothing to be said.

But words can't be helped when distractions are needed.

"I'm Sarah," the vampire-looking girl says, giving a slight smile. She sniffles, and I see her eyes water. "I have three little brothers and a dad at home. I've known of God my entire life, but just before I was brought here, I surrendered to Him. I'm surprised I made it this long."

A few of us nod. My eyes drift up to hers as she shifts uncomfortably and hugs herself, her clothes close to tatters. The only thing mostly in tact is her black leather jacket, only the sleeves and hem somewhat shredded. That jacket means something to her.

"But I won't give up." A tear trickles over her left cheek. "I need to see my brothers again. I need to... save them from my dad."

She looks back down at the ground, fumbling at her fingers. I feel an urge to hug her, to comfort her the way Markus did to me, but I stay still. She takes a breath in and turns to the girl next to her, who stares off in the distance. Her straight, black hair is tangled and messy, and her small eyes are still.

"My name is Heather," she says, her eyes not focusing on anyone. "I'm blind. Have been for over a year now. My parents raised me in a church, and I accepted Christ when I was little. I've always been a Christian. And then the car crash... it... damaged me. I post the faith." She paused, remembering it all. "I woke up and I couldn't see anything. I lost faith. And then, just a few months ago, a lady was talking to me and asking me questions about God. And then she got mad at me and stormed off for whatever reason. Within the next hour, I was in the middle of being kidnapped, begging God to save me. I regained my faith."

"That must have been terrifying for you," Sarah whispers. "You can't see who's attacking you."

She nodded. "It was. I'm still terrified. Tiff, one of the girls who, I'm guessing didn't survive, would talk me through everything. I asked her not to leave out the details, but I still think she did to spare me." Her lip quivers and she sniffles. "Usually after attacks like this, she immediately says something to me. But this time, it's silent."

As if on cue, death presses on us again.

"It's nice to meet you, girls," the single mother I'd spoken to earlier says quietly, reaching out and touching their hands. "My name is Mandi." She told her story, summing it up and ending it quickly.

"I'm a single mother too, or—I will be," a girl speaks up, her eyes overflowing. Her chubby cheeks tell me she isn't old enough to be a mother just yet. "My boyfriend, it'd been our three month anniversary, and, well... I got pregnant. And... I'm only fifteen—I shouldn't be a mother yet, but... but I couldn't help it. He said he would do it anyway, and he'd only stay with me if I said yes. And then I was pregnant and he left me. He _laughed_ at me..."

The blind girl—Heather—reaches up and wraps an arm around the girl's shoulders. "It wasn't until a few weeks later that I went to church and begged God to forgive me and to help me with this baby—I was saved then." She looks down at her slightly bulging stomach. "And now the baby will never get to see the light of day."

The redhead sitting next to her reaches over and touches her stomach. "I'll help you protect it," she said, giving a soft smile. "You _will_ walk out of this room with that baby alive."

"But what if it's already dead?" the girl asks, covering her lips. "I've been so stressed, we've barely eaten a thing—"

"God will provide."

The words spring from my lips. It's something I always say. It's something I've always said. And, somehow, my brain made me say it now.

Silence fills the spaces once again, but this time, it's tense. I wrap my hand around the pocket watch dangling at my bellybutton.

"What's your story?" the redhead asks.

"Me?"

She nods and I shrug, feeling my story press against my skull. But do I really want to recall those events? Do I really want to tell them what happened?

"Um," I begin, unsure if I really want to tell it. "I..."

"It's okay," Heather interjects softly, offering a smile as well. It's uneasy.

I take a breath. I wasn't planning on saying anything about myself.

"I, um... I'm a writer. I sing. I... act. I make graphic designs for people." _Keep going,_ I encourage myself as my brain begins to get stuck. "I have a mom and dad at home who had me at a young age. And I have a little brother, four years younger than me. Four and... three months, to be specific," I say lightly. A few of them smile. I can feel the tension depleting as I talk. "Named after a nineties show. I was named after a random news reporter." A chuckle from Heather. "My middle name is from _Days of Our Lives._ "

"I used to watch that with my mom when I was little," the redhead smiles, staring at her hands.

"Me too," I grinned, allowing the distraction. "I have two cats: Baby Girl and Bo. My brother was supposed to come up with a name for Baby Girl, but... _obviously,_ he didn't think of one." I found myself chuckling, that time. "I was an army brat, and I moved around everywhere. My dad chased jobs as a mechanic, and he was a police officer in Corpus Christi. I was never socially awkward until I moved to Houston, where, my senior year, I was placed on the JV cheer squad because I couldn't do a backhand-spring. Varsity ignored me and I was forgotten as a senior, and I had, like, four friends, who I never hung out with. Went to college and hated it, so I stayed in the theater program, which I almost never agreed with, but I loved acting."

"And what about how you got here?" The vampire girl... Brittney? _No..._

"Well, I..." I placed myself back in that day. I just got a new book by a self-publisher, and my brother and his friend were running around hanging out while I read. And then I recall the incident. My pulse quickens by a few beats as it comes back to me. "Um, I was at the mall. And I had to pee, so I... went. And there was a guy in there—in one of the stalls. I tried to leave, but... but I was stopped by that woman. I got away, and then, the next night, I woke up in a white room."

"They took you in a bathroom?"— _Sarah! That's her name!—_ Sarah asked.

"Well, I _went_ into the bathroom, but—"

"I mean, they _ambushed_ you in a bathroom?" Her smile was ridiculously wide.

"Yeah," I laugh, and it earns a few chuckles. "And I didn't even get to wash my hands."

"Ew," Heather laughs, wrinkling her nose. A few of the guys smile.

"Yeah, she broke down the dang stall door to try and feed me to the guy there."

"She broke it?" The girls laughed harder as Sarah leaned forward to ask me the question. "What is she—He-Man?"

The laughter went to a hysterical level.

" _She-_ Man!" Markus joined in, laughing. It was good to see him smile.

The laughter dies down and we return to reality. The happy moment was over.

Everyone else introduces themselves, one by one. I try and remember their names. The pregnant girl's name is Tayah, and she's only sixteen. The scruffy man's name is Ranger (I'd forgotten from our last encounter with the wolf). Rachel is the redhead, who didn't find God until she was being attacked by a vampire in the white room we all seemed to wake up in (they kidnapped her from a church function she'd gone to with her friend, thinking she was a Christian). She's twenty-two. Aaron (I always hated the spelling of that name) has blue hair and found God when he was thirteen (he's, like, twenty-one). Another boy's name was Tony, and he was only twelve; he gave his life to Christ when he was eight, and his dad is a preacher. And then there was Uriah, who has the coolest name, and he was thirty-something. He was an Atheist until he began to study the Bible to prove it wrong. And Hamilton, who was in his forties, is a teacher somewhere in Louisiana, where my best friend lives. He doesn't know the age he was when he began to believe, but he said it's like he's always known. And then, of course, there's me, Markus, Mandi, Heather, and Sarah. Six girls. Six guys.

But we all know that, soon, our numbers will go down even more.

Somehow, without saying it, we all agreed upon our fate.

We would all die soon. 

# Chapter Thirteen

†

Closer we grew. We put our differences aside. We prayed. A lot. We cried even more. I kept my promise and prayed for the vampire I'd promised I would.

Food came. Five times for another week. At the same time every day. Twelve. Most of us go without eating. We help feed Tayah. She always eats. And then we alternate. We become weaker.

We began tallying the days since the massacre that left only twelve of us. I can feel the hunger eating me alive. The headaches only get worse and my stomach churns inside me. Those are the bad days. I writhe in pain, laying on the dried blood on the ground, nearly unable to stand it. My brain begins to grow more and more frustrated as I try to keep my cool, as I try and keep insanity at bay. The room is almost silent at some points, all except for our watches, that tick in synchronized time. It's almost like our heartbeat, if we were machines. But we aren't. We are human beings, going through a tremendous amount of change, torture, and isolation.

Three of us are bitten. Me, Heather, and Mandi. Half of the girls. All the boys are safe if they doubt for a moment. Until one of us doubts. Could turning into a werewolf now, while we're starving and terrified and crestfallen?

I sit up, holding my hammering head in my left hand. My stomach aches, longing for the food I've been generously giving away.

An angry thought rips from the crevices of my brain toward Tayah, but I pull it back. I'll be okay. I'll survive. Didn't Jesus live off of nothing for forty days and forty nights in the desert and faced and defeat the devil with nothing but His faith in God? Can I not do that too? I'm no Jesus, but God... God is always with me.

The door to the Blood Room cracks itself open an inch or two. There's a childish giggle as the lights flick off. I hear someone whimper and Heather ask what's going on, only to be shushed. She must be even more terrified than any of us.

Another giggle from behind the door. A line of light stretches from the doorway and ends to my right, nearly touching me in its wake. The door creeks open a slight bit more, and there's a small, dark figure standing in the doorway.

It disappears in a blink.

A giggle right beside my ear makes me jump and back away, bumping into someone else, which I presumed to be Markus. He'd been lying next to me when I fell asleep. "Asleep."

"One of you is a liar," the voice sings. It's a child. A little girl. "One of you doesn't belong."

Scampering.

"One of you Chris-ies is a vampire," the little girl sings again, from the left side of the room. "One of you is playing pretend."

She laughs again, and I hear her hiss before a loud scream and gurgling fills the air. A girl. But which one of us was it?

Please don't be Tayah, I plead.

I hear sobbing as the little girl finishes with a loud slurping sound. There's a thud as the body hits the floor.

"Oh, don't be sad," the little girl demands, and I can almost see her wiping her mouth through the hazy darkness. "My daddy said you guys are all stupid anyway. Stupid is as stupid does. And you pray to a fictional creature you believe lives in the clouds."

"What does your daddy say about the afterlife?" I blurt, trying to hold the anger and pity inside me. "How old are you?"

"My daddy says that this life means nothing when we're dead."

"He's right. Until you count up the sins that haven't been forgiven."

"Are you trying to scare a five year old?" The girl whimpers.

"You don't sound five years old," I retort, crossing my arms. Why do I feel superior? Why do I underestimate this child?

She chuckles. "I'm not. I was turned when I was five by my daddy because I had 'cancer'. They said I had a year to live. But it's been fifty." I can hear the pride in her voice. "Too bad you can't cure your disease: Christianity."

"What disease gives you a peace you can't explain? What disease would save you from death itself?"

"I don't see you being saved," the girl says, coming nearer. "I see you surrounded by death."

"And yet, I'm still alive. Markus has been here for two years, when some have died within the first hour. What disease would keep you alive, even when you're promised death? A disease kills. A miracle saves."

"You aren't out of the woods just yet," she whispers, right next to me now, in my ear. "You have one more trial. There are eleven of you, and thousands of us." She sniffs the air around me, and I can almost taste the blood on her breath. "And it smells like you have wolf venom inside of you."

"As if that would deter me," I say, lifting my chin.

"Don't trip. Don't fall," she sings. "Or else, the venom will take you all."

She laughs and backs up. The lights flash on and we can see the girl. My eyes dart to her pray on the other side of the room and tears spring to my eyes.

Mandi.

"I'd figure out which of you is the traitor, and why they have betrayed you, before the next trial," the girl bellows, reaching all of our ears. Her face is pale and her thin blonde hair is saturated with red blood, along with her ripped pink dress and tattered shoes. Blood trails from her eyes as black veins, the biggest I've yet to see, cover her cheeks. Open wounds create tendril-like structures from her lips, puss pouring from them as her completely white eyes look us over. She is absolutely terrifying. "Get to know each other. Well. Or else you will fail the next trial, and none of you will walk out of here alive."

She turns to leave.

"So—wait!" I call, standing to my feet. She turns back toward me, her white-out eyes staring into the depths of my soul and turning it cold as a shiver runs through me. My words stick in my throat.

"Yes?"

"Does that mean... does that mean we could live?"

She smiles, every one of her teeth sharpened to a point and stained with blood. Fifty years' worth.

"Maybe," she smirks. "But if my momma couldn't make it out, why do you think I would let you do the same?"

She turns and leaves, slamming the door shut behind her.

We could live.

# Chapter Fourteen

†

Aaron doesn't wake up from his slumber. We shed tears, dehydrating ourselves even more. Prayers are passed along and we receive more food. The bodies continue to wither away, the rooms stench increasing.

"Makes me wonder who will go next," Ranger mutters gruffly under his breath.

Almost everyone's eyes dart to him, but we say nothing. We sit in a circle again, painfully aware that it is smaller than it had been the day before. We shift uncomfortably in one of the only spots untouched by death. It's approaching. Slowly, but surely. First Mandi, then Aaron. Who will be deaths next victim?

"So who is it?" He asks.

His voice startles me from my thoughts. "Who is what?"

His eyes bore into me. "Who's the liar the creepy girl called out? I don't think she was lyin'."

Silence crushes us once again, and I can tell none of us have any room to doubt her. Not even me, who thinks the best of people most of the time. I can feel the truth like an iron brick in my body. I would expect nothing less from the vampires. They're filled with deceit and lies.

"Y'all are too friendly," Ranger grumbles. "Wanna know who I think it is?" He raises his chin and lays eyes on Heather. "You. The blind one."

"Me?" Heather cries out. "Why? Because I'm disabled?"

"Exactly. Win our hearts then rip 'em out."

"Leave her alone," I snap, crossing my arms in front of my chest. I look to my left at Heather, whose face is red with anger.

"Why? He asks, turning my attention back at him, who sits directly across from me. "Because you're actually the vampire?"

"Excuse—"

"Why else would you know so much about werewolves and stuff?"

My eyes widen at Tony, the twelve-year-old. "Because I'm—"

"He has a point," Hamilton agrees, his back against the wall as well. "And you seemed pretty fearless when you stood up to that vampire."

"Someone had to!" I squeak. "Why are we pointing fingers?"

"Why are you getting so defensive?" Tony's pupils glint with fear.

I stare at him for a moment, then shift my gaze to Ranger, who smirks. Maybe it's him, and maybe I want to point a finger too, protect myself and let the others have at it, but I don't.

"Well whoever it is, maybe they've stayed quiet this long because they want to change. Maybe they've seen the truth and are being punished just like the rest of us for seeing the wolf differently. Better."

"Or they're spyin' on us," Ranger says, glaring at another one of the girls, "waiting for the right moment to destroy all of us. There's no way the vampires would have left us alone with each other if there wasn't a threat. Together, Christians are stronger. So why not learn our ticks and what makes us weak in our faith?"

I look over my shoulder at the door. The little girl, the poor little, terrifying girl rocks my fear as I recall her, the tiny voice making me cringe. She mentioned that we could get out alive, but she also said she wouldn't let us. She said her mother didn't make it out... how long has this experiment been going on?

The group begins to talk over one another, and I sit in silence, watching, listening. I pull my knees up to my chest, warming the cold chill of ice that had begun to melt inside me. The biggest question is if the little girl was telling the truth.

But Ranger does have a point. Why would they just leave us in here like this without any danger? To give us a sense of security?

I drift off in through as anger lifts in the room. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I don't want to be a part of this. I will figuratively dip someone's head off if an argument comes my way at this point. Some would call it hangry. Or... tangry? What's the word for a mix of all three?

The door slams open and one-by-one, vampires dart into the room. They carry large pieces of shiny grey fabric and long, metal poles. Some carry wires and one carries a large battery (that looks really heavy for a human).

"Line up!"

The main vampire comes forward, gripping us roughly by our shoulders and moving us when we don't shuffle quickly enough. Heather falls to the floor, tears springing from her eyes as she struggles to pick herself up. I help her stand beside me, holding her hand and squeezing it.

"Don't let go," I tell her softly. She nods, sniffling.

My heart races in my chest as the vampires work almost too quick for my eyes to see. The fabric goes up in moments, separating one half of us from the other. Others are weaved up and down, and one is put before my half, almost touching our chests. We stay silent and we stay still.

"This is a maze," I hear the woman call. "Find the door and you shall live. Lose your pocket watch, and you will have to find it once again."

The room begins to buzz, and I can sense the presence of electricity as it flows through the air. The light shut off.

I hear a tear and a cry of pain.

"Your knife won't do any good, Ranger," the woman calls through the fabric. I hear other vampires laugh as Ranger curses. I hear him shout, and then it's drowned by a chorus of gurgles from his throat. The other four that were with him scream, and I hear someone sobbing. "This is conductive textile fabric. If you try to cut through it or stretch the fabric too far, it will short-circuit and shock you. Now, the shock isn't enough to kill you, but it hurts like a mother and gives us a reason to attack. But be careful. We won't attack unless you obey us or agree with a deal we make. Let part one of the End begin!"

The light flicker off.

"Don't let go of me," I whisper to Hannah as chattering fills the room. "Everything will be okay."

"No talking!"

The voice is still of the woman's. Is she hidden in the makeshift maze? This room is large... but how many secrets can The Blood Room hold? The other two people that were beside me have already fled, leaving us behind. It was Tony and Uriah that had stood next to me, and, most likely, they thought I was a vampire and left me. And now I have to watch out for Heather alone. Which would be fine. If I wasn't freaked the frick out.

I surprised a smile as a song comes back to me from my time spent watching Nickelodeon. Victoria Justice. Freak the Freak out.

And then my brain has this crazy idea. There's no talking, but what about singing?

"I scream your name. It always stays the same."

"What are you doing?" Heather whispers dangerously. But the line I dance on is even smaller.

"Finding loopholes," I whisper back, beginning to dance away my fear. It makes Heather giggle nervously. It's working. If we just relax, maybe we can get through this maze, and maybe it won't be so terrifying. Maybe.

It's working for me, at least.

For the most part.

"I scream and shout," I continue, pulling Heather close to me as I turn left. "So what I'm gonna do now, is freak the freak out—"

"Who's singing?" The woman calls angrily, incredulously. "I said no talking!"

"I'm sing, sa-singing, I'm sing, ah-singing," I reply in rhythm with the song. "Whoa-ah-oh, oh, whoa-ah-oh, oh, whoa-uh-oh-oh."

I hear a few snickers and some laughs from behind the fabric walls. It's working. I feel the tension easing itself.

"That includes singing!"

"You didn't say that, I could not sing, hey!" I continue, dancing around like a maniac and trying to avoid the walls while moving Heather through them. She laughs now.

"Patience running thin, running thin, come again. Tell me what I get, opposite, opposite," Heather joins in as we round another corner. "Show me what is real, if it breaks, does it heal? Open up your ear, why you think that I'm here?"

She begins to dance as well, both of us holding hands and bouncing between the narrow walls. We come to a dead end and turn around. Someone from the other side sings with us. Rachel.

"Keep me in the dark, are you even thinking of me, gotta know, gotta know. What am I gonna do 'cuz I can't get rid of you, so, what's it gonna be, tell me, can you hear me?"

I do the drum beat as we take another turn. Rachel sounds close by. I wonder how far we are away from the door.

"I'm so sick of it, your attention deficit, you never listen, never listen. I'm so sick of it—"

A vampire grasps me by the throat and the lightness of the moment is gone almost immediately. I feel Heather's grip tighten with worry when I gasp for air.

"You three sound horrid," the vampire spits. She knocks me to the floor, and I hit one of her fabric walls. It shocks me and I let out a soft yelp as I hit the stained floor below.

"Give me your watch or Heather here never makes it to the door."

Heather lets out a sob as the vampire takes a wad of Heather's hair and pulls her head back, revealing her neck.

"You have five seconds."

# Chapter Fifteen

†

I pull off the bronze chain as I stand and hold out the necklace. I have no choice in the matter. Heather needs me, whether she wants to admit it or not. What if she walks into a trap trying to find her way? Or runs into a wall and falls, stretching the fabric too far? The vampires will attack, and they never said they'd be gentle or if you'd come out alive. And they never said anything about leaving the necklaces on your person.

The vampire snarls as she takes the necklace, cutting my hand with her sharp nails in the process.

"Whoops." She laughs loudly and leaps, changing into a small bat, small enough to fly and fit through the slit at the top of the fabric. I clutch at my hand, bleeding and stinging, and grit my teeth.

"What did you do?" Heather whispers.

"I hear talking!"

The woman's voice hushes us and I grimace. Anger consumes me now, and I grab Heather's hand, leading her through the maze once again. A headache squeezes my brain, and all the fun of the moment is long gone.

A scream.

A snap cuts it short.

Someone else died. A girl.

My teeth ache behind my taught lips, and my heart pounds inside me, r day to burst at any moment. I will not crumbs to the situation at hand—they cannot have control of my emotions and feelings.

But you let them anger you... if that isn't control over your emotions, what is it?

I slow, finding truth in my thought. Anger... it distorts reality. And why should I be angry? Heather is alive, even if I had to sacrifice something in order to keep her that way.

My feet rest for a moment, someone else crying out. That's three.

There are seven of us left, eight if you count the unborn child... if it is still alive.

A dead-end greets us and I groan, a snicker filtering through the fabric from the other side. How many vampires are in here, waiting to attack?

And would I stand a chance against them if they attack me?

I stand there for a while, Heather tugging questionably at my hand as I stare at the fabric. The vampire behind it makes a clicking noise, but I don't move. I'm not breaking any rules.

"I see you, girl," the voice says. It's the little girl. "What are you standing around for? Don't you want to be free?"

I stand there for a moment longer as the little girl cackles.

"There will be a moment soon where your courage will run thin, and your faith will waver. It never fails. Everyone will question at one point their belief. But you, girl, are one stubborn thorn who is blinded by what's happening around you. If there was a God, why would he let these things happen to you?"

I clench my jaw, holding back the tears. I'm terrified, but God will get me through it. There are two forces at work, and it is up to us whose voice we listen to.

"I'll see you on the other side, Kyla."

There's a rustling behind the fabric and I can feel her presence no longer. She's gone.

I hold my tongue, the rules of the game still in play. Heather's life is at stake, and not to mention mine.

I take an involuntary step back as everything begins to hit me and wrap around my stomach. The magnitude of this terrible situation has rested inside me for so long now... so why do I feel like it's hitting me for the first time?

I turn around and walk, dragging Heather behind me. I switch all my energy into survival mode, my only goal is getting out alive with Heather intact.

My foot hits something and it clatters across the floor. Something glints in the darkness and I bend down to pick it up.

The stained metal is cool to the touch, and, as my brain identifies the weapon, a sense of safety is placed over me, a small part of it cracked and hopped, knowing I wouldn't just need it for looks.

I might have to use it.

And I don't know if I can.

I hold it out before me, my foot knocking against something. A body.

Ranger lies at my feet, his chest completely ripped open. A terrible thought crosses my mind, a thought about karma, but I push it away. He's dead now. Hopefully, he made it to the destination we all long for once we die.

I take in a deep, shaky breath and turn my face away.

God, be with us.

I hold the knife at my side defensively, my fingers trembling around it. Ranger wasn't the vampire. Could it have been someone near him? Someone he walked through this maze with?

This maze makes us easy prey. We're lab rats in an experiment, and that's all we are to these predators. And people that are lost, scared, and have their attention elsewhere are distracted, and can easily be caught off guard.

Especially in the dark.

A scream.

Something snaps.

The scream is cut short.

We're down to six.

Heather grips my fingers tightly, and they begin to ache, but I say nothing, as I know I'm doing the same to her. We cling to each other for the moment, and I wonder if her fear is greater than mine because she is unable to see—as if it matters any.

We take a sharp left and someone slams into us, nearly knocking us to the ground. Hamilton gapes at us, his frame trembling.

"They—they took my pocket watch!"

His exclamation sends the vampires into a frenzy—I can hear them behind the cloths. One drops from the ceiling, transforming before touching the ground, and two more come from either direction. They snarl as the one that came from the ceiling rips at his clothes and shoves him to the ground. Hamilton's head collides with a metal pole holding up the fabric and his body goes limp. The vampire smiles as the other two push past Heather and me, looking over his shoulder at us. I recognize him. It's Krogstad.

He strides up to me, his nostrils flared and his black veins looking like they're about to pop. He takes a deep breath in and I hear Heather whimper behind me.

"How's that invisible God looking to you now?" He whispers, his cold breath snaking along my neck. I swallow hard and resist the urge to take a step away from him. "He can't save you in here, where we're allowed to touch you."

I open my mouth to speak, but he puts a blood-stained finger against my lips, hushing me. The other two vampires have vanished, leaving behind Hamilton's bloodless corpse to rot. I hope he made it too...

"The rules are still in play, Kyla. If you speak, I'll have to kill you." He smirks. "But. Do as I say, and I'll grant you the right to speak. And. I will show you to the door."

My brow furrows. What could he possibly want from me? It has to be huge if he would show me the way out of here.

I nod, waiting.

The mischievous grin grows wider as he rubs his hands together. The black veins covering his face seem to grow a little more, and his red irises shine like a dim light in this dark room. What does he want me to do?

He takes a breath in and looks around, but there is no one. Heather squeezes my hand harder at the anticipation of possibly getting out, nearly unscathed and fully alive. But something drops in my stomach as a pinprick of fear makes my blood turn to slush. My breath is shaky as I clutch the knife harder. I almost wish I never stood up to this vampire. If I hadn't, maybe I could have already escaped.

He opens his mouth and reveals is fangs for a moment, letting the anxiety sink into my system.

And then he speaks.

"To escape the Blood Room, Kyla, you must deny your Maker."

# Chapter Sixteen

†

"Deny me, and I will deny you before my father," I spit, loosely quoting Jesus. "I won't do that."

"Kyla—please," Heather begs.

Krogstad's attention turns to her, and in the blink of an eye, his hands are tilting her head.

"I'll let that one slide, Kyla, but we can all hear you. Some of us are closing in, ready to seal your fate for breaking the rules. As for your friend, I can't say the same. It isn't her I'm bargaining with."

"God will forgive you! Do it so we can escape!"

I gape at Heather, whose blind eyes release tears the size of Texas.

"I'll do it!" She shouts to Krogstad, and I feel my heart break. "Let me go and I'll do what you ask."

"Heather—" I choke out, tears swelling in my own eyes and throat.

Krogstad stares at me, still smiling.

"You aren't the one I made the deal with."

Her neck snaps and her sobs abruptly stop. I feel bile claw up into my throat and out of my mouth, splattering onto the floor. It's close to nothing, but it hurts everything inside me as a few tears jump ship and land with the pile of stench.

Krogstad cackles.

"I'll see you at the end."

He disappears, dragging Heather's body behind him.

And I am alone.

I stumble through the maze. My head swarms with dizziness and fear and mourning. Heather is gone. And we are down to five.

I fall to the ground and sit up against a metal pole. I place my head between my hands and focus on the floor in front of me. I need to get a grip and get out of this place. Going through this with someone else is one thing, but being alone is an entirely different story. And although I've always done more on my own, right now, I need someone. If there isn't someone to keep my mind distracted... if there isn't something to keep it preoccupied...

There was a story I read. I don't know if it was real and I couldn't tell if it was fake. These Russian scientists were conducting an experiment of what happened if we didn't sleep. Three men were in the room. There were microphones and a double-sided glass window where the scientists could observe. The first to go insane began to scream until he had no voice, and even then, he attempted to shout. The second and third began ripping pages out of books, one page at a time. They then defecated on the pages and stuck them to the window so the scientists couldn't see. Silence is all they heard from outside the walls, and they announced they were coming in to check the microphones. They told the subjects to lay on the floor and they will be released immediately.

Then a voice speaks into the microphone, telling the scientists they don't want to leave.

When they got into the room, they saw, I believe, one dead, while the other two had ripped out chunks of their flesh and muscle. A few doctors died in the process of trying to get the men to doctors, the subjects attacking with monstrous strength. They finally strapped them down and one died before he could be treated. The other was fully awake when he said he must remain awake. When asked what he is, he said something along these lines:

We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animalistic mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night.

A chill runs down my spine. All my life, I knew I was off. I understood that I was different, and so I put my words on paper and in songs. But now... now I don't even have someone to keep me from myself. I can't sing. I can't write.

And when that happens, the animal inside eats me alive.

God, keep me sane, I pray silently, staring down at my stomach as I pull my knees up. God, keep me sane.

I breathe slowly. I try and unsuccessfully focus on just that. I try to picture myself at home, feel the warmth of my bed and the love of my parents and Tobias... but all it does is make me crumble the rest of the way.

Sobs tumble out of my body as my arms hold me together. I feel as if I let go of my aching knees, I'll fall to the floor, organs exposed, unable to stand ever again.

I feel a hand on my head, and I look up. The scary little girl makes my heart jump as she tilts her head curiously at me, the blood on her face shifting. I sniffle a little too loudly.

"If I didn't know better, I'd take you out right now." Her voice isn't sing-songy. It isn't even taunting like it had been before. It's normal (in the creepiest way). "I can feel you strengthening yourself in your faith as your emotions fail you. Why do you cling to this invisible entity?"

Her white eyes are curious, nearly all traces of hunger dispersed as I look into them and they chill me to the bones. It takes me a moment to realize she really is searching for an answer. It takes me another to come up with one.

"It's okay. You can talk when one of us talk to you. It's the rule."

"Um..." my eyes drag down to the ground, my brow furrowing as I search for words. I wipe my eyes and take a ragged breath. "God's never failed me. He's never given up on me. I... owe Him everything. If I didn't have Him in my life, I'd be the complete opposite of who I am now." My eyes drift up to her, her focus still completely on me. "If I didn't have him, I'd have been dead long ago, or I would have been locked up in an asylum. There are probably so many things wrong with me—" tears choke me, and I swallow them down, the pain lining my throat. "This place is only temporary, and in Heaven, I know there is no pain, no suffering... And I know a lot of things aren't God's fault, they're mine. We were given free will... and I freely chose to love God."

The girl is silent for a moment, completely still.

"My mother was a Christian. My daddy beat her to her death. She always talked about God, but I never believed a word she said because of how bad she had it, and I laughed at her, just like my daddy did. And then she died right after I was diagnosed with cancer. I was turned into a vampire and, after a few years of plotting, I killed my father out of vengeance."

Her face doesn't change. I don't see a hint of predator in her face as she finishes her sentence. But I see a little girl's face layered on top of an older woman's mind, and I can see her trying to understand, even behind the fogginess of her white eyes.

"Why are you telling me this?" I pry, dropping my knees to sit crisscross. Suddenly, I feel vulnerable, and I wrap my weak arms around my trembling midsection. It's so strange to be afraid of a toddler—I hope it's never repeated, should I escape this room.

"I don't know," she responds, still standing in the same spot, staring at me. "I feel like I should."

Another short silence stretches between us as someone else cries out. A guy.

"And then there were five." Her voice turns eerie as my heart speeds up. "There is one more thing I was debating to ask you. How do you find it in you to forgive?"

I hesitate. I've always been good at forgiving, beyond elementary, that is. But how do you put that feeling into words? How do you form a sentence with the steps on forgiveness?

And then it comes to me.

"You let go," I say quietly, unable to look away from this little girl whose striking looks seem to grow less scary as I speak with her. "When Jesus told his disciples to follow them, he looked past what they were and saw what they could be, and they changed the world for the better. And then he died as the ultimate sacrifice, separating us from religion and creating a relationship. And God... his love is eternal and unconditional, but his forgiveness is something you have to ask for, not just through prayer and your actions, but you have to forgive others, or else he won't forgive you, either."

"So you do it so you can be forgiven?"

"You aren't supposed to, necessarily," I swallow the saliva in my mouth as I grow in excitement and nervousness. She may be in a five-year-old body, but she's probably fifty times stronger than I am, and I'm walking on a thin line. "Guilt and anger can eat you alive. But when you forgive and you do so for more than just you, and you do it for the other person, knowing they are human and they are flawed too... there's a happiness that can wash over you, that person can feel what it's like to be loved. Because love is patient, and kind, and does not boast, and love is forgiving, especially God's. "

The little girl says nothing, her white eyes trained on me. She's still as a statue.

The woman seeming to run everything calls out, "Congratulations, Markus, you've made it to the next part. Please follow Val down the hall for your final test."

Good. Markus made it. Four left in the maze, including me.

The little girl comes closer and squats before me, looking me straight into the eyes. My stomach twists inside me. Her face is still placid and completely at ease.

"One of you Chris-ies is a vampire. One of you is playing pretend. Don't trip. Don't fall. Or else the venom will take you all."

Her eyes linger on mine as she finishes the sentence, and then she disappears, a blast of wind rustling my greasy hair. Was she trying to warn me? And, if so, why? Aren't we on opposite sides?

I find my knees and use them to stand.

God, help me get out of here.

I hold the knife at my side, ready to defend myself if I have to.

One of you Chris-ies is a vampire. One of you is playing pretend.

Desperate times come with desperate measures.

Don't trip. Don't fall. Or the venom will take you all.

And what I'm about to do...

Counts as a desperate measure.

# Chapter Seventeen

†

The blade clangs against the metal poles, sending a silence over the room. The sounds grow increasingly louder as I force it upon them, pulling attention away from everyone else. I can feel insanity pressing through my skull and dripping into the saliva gathering atop my tongue. I can feel the part of me I try so hard to suppress by putting it into words and into villains who can do no wrong—I can feel the Banshee in my mind tugging at my strings and begging to come out and play, swearing he's not all insane.

God, help me stay sane.

I hit it against another pole, turning a corner.

Stepping over a body.

Uriah's.

I hold back the emotions that had nearly taken me over just moments before. Hopefully he made it to the promised eternity behind gates we all long for, but most don't try to earn the key. And this is me making a final effort to receive it.

Clang.

I turn left.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

A vampire cuts off my right of passage. His arms are crossed and his eyes bury themselves deep inside me. Two more show up behind him.

I stop, hitting the blade against the last pole before them, and stare them down. My heart palpitates inside me, but I don't cave. Not this time.

God, give me strength.

"Would you shut up?" The male vampire in the front grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest as I hit the pole again, my heart jumping into my throat.

The sanity is at war with the crazy in my brain, and, for a moment, I wonder if I should let the latter dilute my muscles. Maybe my insanity isn't as afraid as my sanity. But would it be called insanity if I knew I was going crazy? Would I be the Mad Hatter if I knew I was mad?

So I let it take me. It seeps into my chest and coats my lungs as they inhale deeply, holding the dagger at my side.

"I could snap your neck right now and you'll be dead," the man huffs, clenching his fists as he drops them to his side.

I hit the knife against the pole once again, and then open my arms, palms outward, and my fingers barely gripping the handle. I take a deep breath, my body trembling. I lock eyes with the vampire. A tiny, nervous smile pricks at the edge of my lips.

"Then bite me."

I hear the woman by the door, I believe, speak again. "Congratulations, Tayah, you've made it out of the maze. How's that baby of yours?"

I grit my teeth as the vampires before me hesitate.

Three left, including me.

I take three steps toward the man, staring him down. I stand there for a beat, watching his confusion and anger grow. I'm not breaking any rules. Any rules that I know of, anyway.

And then I walk around them.

"Where are you going?" The man exclaims, exhaling.

I go lightheaded as I spin around to glare at him and smirk. There's that confidence that had gotten me into so much trouble before. But I let it consume me. I've got God on my side, and they can't get past the Holy Spirit unless my faith wavers.

The man grimaces.

"Ren, look at her dagger. It's—I think it's..."

The woman standing next to him stares at it wide-eyed, making even me look down at it. It's wicked, slight curve makes me wonder about it too. It looks like something from another world. Where did Ranger get this? And why is that girl's face stricken with fear?

I glance back up at them, filled with a sudden urgency to get away from them, and turn my back to walk the direction they came from. Before I can get too far through the maze, I'm stopped as hands are laid upon me and fingers wrap around my neck, not squeezing just yet.

"Hand over the dagger and I'll release you from my grasp."

I clutch the weapon tighter.

God, give me strength.

"Or what?" I spit, my body refusing to believe that this me that's talking back isn't associated with the brain I grew up with. "You won't kill me. I'm not breaking any rules. And the number one rule I've picked up that you guys have to follow is 'don't touch the subjects'. And guess what you're touching."

"Give it to me," he demands angrily, the other two vampires that were with him coming around and flanking my shoulders, staring me down hungrily. What's stopping them from touching me as well?

"Ren, be careful. The Leader is watching. We could be punished for this."

"I don't care. As long as she has that, we are at a disadvantage."

The vampire pulls my neck back, stretching it in a painful way, and reaches over my shoulder and across my chest, trying to get ahold of the knife. I yank it away, feeling the tip brush his clothes just over his hip. He snarls.

"Ren—" the talkative girl vampire utters, coming even nearer. I can almost feel her touching my shoulder, she's so close.

"I'm in control, here. She can't kill somebody. Probably hasn't even killed a bug."

I grit my teeth. I probably couldn't. I can't even smash a bug. Unless it's a red ant or a flea. Those are different.

I could imagine myself pushing the knife into his body and pushing outward, injuring his torso and breaking free, maybe the two vampires kneeling over to help him up so I could make my way back through the maze. I can feel my fingers tingling to test my theory and my muscles aching from anticipation.

I almost talk myself into doing it as he begins to squeeze my neck and dig his claws into it. I begin to choke. It's now or never.

And then I push the thought aside, accepting the end.

"Let go."

The voice forces my attention to the figure in front of me. The little girl stares directly at the man holding me still.

"She's being a nuisance."

"That isn't against the rules," the little girl tells him, her intensity skyrocketing as her head tilts downward, sending a chill down my spine. I can feel the temperature between the two vampires lower a few degrees, and I swear I can hear my own heart beating. "But you touching her when no rules are broken on her part is. Let go."

The man hesitates, and I can feel his anger as his body tenses, air struggling to enter my body as pain sprints through my neck muscles. The little girl must have a lot of respect in this world, I realize, as the man shoves me forward and I fall to my knees at her feet, rubbing my neck. My fingers brush over the bumps I received as a souvenir when I arrived to this place, and I could feel my skin refuse to stretch where the cuts scabbed over on my arms and wrists.

"Now go."

The vampires growl at her, a throaty grumbling, but don't move.

"I said, go. Or I'll alert the Leader."

"This isn't over," the man growls, staring directly at me.

They scowl and disperse, one turning into a bat and hooking to the ceiling, while the other two dart around corners and through the unsymmetrical passageways making up this maze.

I look up at the little girl standing before me, and not far from me, and she stares at me, something in her brain making her eyebrows pull together and her forehead wrinkle.

"I won't save you again," is all she says before walking off.

I bolt up and follow her, but she disappears around the next bend. So I keep walking, dagger in hand. I need to do something, but my brain isn't thinking. I fantasize about ripping through all of these sheets and ignoring the electricity that could...

All it will do is hurt me a bit. It won't kill me, and it won't stun me.

I look down at the dagger, Ranger's cry of pain ringing through my skull, and I shake the thought away. If I want to get out of here alive, I need to be fully aware of what's happening around me.

So I clutch maybe the only weapon that could potentially save my life or smother it like a light.

They said as long as I have it, they're at a disadvantage. Why?

I walk quickly, determined. I can feel the feeling I had when hitting the knife against the poles, that instinctual, animalistic, predatory feeling that claws up from the deepest parts of me. The side of me people only see when they read the words I've written. The side of me that scares myself.

Two more turns, and then I'm in an open area, the door directly in front of me.

I walk up to the woman and cross my arms, the dagger poking out from behind my elbow.

"I made it. Now what?"

The woman smiles, her eyes flicking down to the dagger for a moment as her lips part all-the-more. She doesn't seem afraid of it, but fascinated, and it makes me even more curious than before.

"I'm ready to find my watch again."

"Patience, Kyla," the woman says, her voice fluid and joyful. "Don't waste time, for it's all you have in The Blood Room."

Sarah and Tony explode out of the maze, stumbling atop one another, and looking as if they're in worse shape than I am. They look at me and each other, wide-eyed, and I notice neither of them have a watch dangling around their neck either. We'll all have to find them again.

The woman with the red hair stands in the way of the exit, smiling masochistically. Vampires appear beside her, lining the wall, and I recognize some more faces, ones that had kept us company when I was first tossed into this room. And then I see the one who took my pocket watch. I scowl.

"Take the maze down," she instructs, her face almost seeming to burst in the center, she was smiling so wide.

The vampires work quickly again in the dark, a few zaps of electricity frying the air, but no one complains. Soon, everything is down and laying on the ground, Sarah, Tony, and I standing just before the door, unsure of what will happen next as we look upon the bodies of the people we'd shared this terrible place with, this Blood Room.

The woman chuckles. "You lost your pocket watches. Now you must find them again."

I place my hands on my hips, Tobias' jacket feeling heavy around my frame. I'm not out of the woods yet. And I have a feeling I won't be for a good while.

"Come."

My eyes move to the little girl, and I startle when I find her watching me. She turns to follow the woman out the door, and I trail behind them, Sarah and Tony on my tail as the fluorescent lights of the hallway blind us for only a moment.

I look up at the high empty ceiling, noticing that something's missing.

Something like all the pocket watches that were dangling from it when I arrived.

# Chapter Eighteen

†

Not much has changed since that first day. Everything is pristine and sterile. Screams come from behind every other door. They would startle me if I wasn't nearly numb to everything going on in this complex. The way they conduct experiments is wrong. How do they get any data from scaring us? And why does it matter? Why do they need to attempt to surpass God? They can't. And they claim they don't believe in Him, when He's the one standing in their way and at least a part of them recognizes it.

We continue to walk through the halls, an entourage of vampires holding in their excitement for the next phase. What could be so exciting about three people? They can't all share us, can they?

We turn down another hallway, a door clearly labeled EXIT standing erect before us. The woman pushes it open, and I feel the warm air of the nighttime wash over me. My senses go crazy, and I feel almost at ease again.

Until the vampires make a circle around us.

The woman stands in the center with us, watching us like hawks. I spot the three vampire's I've been acquainted with, and gulp. Are Sarah and Tony doing the same? Evaluating the demons standing around us, trying to read them to see what we're doing?

"It's now time for a game of Hide and Seek," she smiles, turning in a circle as she speaks to the vampires. "Or, as I like to call it, The Most Dangerous Game."

The title rings a bell in my mind. One of my favorite short stories. The man is a big game hunter—but he's grown bored of the ease. So he decides to hunt humans.

I can see the resemblance.

The woman chuckles. "I will choose three vampires that agree to the rules that were listed beforehand. Break these rules and you will be beheaded.

"Actually," she says, turning on her heel as she changes her mind, "I would like three volunteers. Things are going to get interesting tonight, my siblings."

"I volunteer." The little girl is the first to step forward, her eyes trained on me. "And I choose Kyla."

A grumbling comes from Krogstad, who looks ready to burst into flames at any given moment.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Mira? You seem to have quite a questionable interest in her, particularly."

"I'm sure," she confirms, breaking her stare of me. "I can carry out the deed if necessary."

"I volunteer," Krogstad chimes in, stepping forward, his jaw tight.

"You as well, Krogstad. You seem to favor Mira's meal as well. Who do you choose?"

"Sarah."

His answer is less than hesitant as he raises his chin, looking up in the canopy of trees around us. Where in the world am I? There are trees for as far as I can see, and they only seem to get denser as they get further away.

Crud.

My stomach drops to my knees.

I'm going to fail this.

I can't climb trees, and I can't hide from anything. Doesn't help my mother raised me to be part-germiphobe.

My eyes dart down to Mira, the little girl, now with a name, my heart picking up its pace and making me feel sick. What are her rules? What are mine?

Another girl steps forward, volunteering and choosing Tony.

"Great. It's settled then." Joy overwhelms the woman's body, making her sickening to look at. "Mira for Kyla, Krogstad for Sarah, and Janice for Tony. Now for the rules."

I take a deep breath.

"Humans," she continues, meeting each of our eyes. "You have until sunrise to find your watch. Once you do, you are safe, and you will face the last phase. If you don't find it by sunrise, and survive, you go back to the Blood Room with your watch returned to you. But if you're found by the vampire that chose you before, you will not walk out of this game alive."

My eyes jump to each of the vampires standing before us. They probably know these woods like the backs of their hands. And they probably have ultra-hearing and ultra-vision, and I know they have super-speed and they can transform into bats. None of us will make it out alive.

My body turns cold at that notion.

God, please hear me. Forgive me for all I've done and said and thought, and even things I didn't say or do. Let my parents feel my love for them, and please don't let Tobias fall apart without me like he claims he will. Watch over my family, please, God, if I don't walk out of this place. Thank you for everything you've done for me and everything I've done in the past. I hope people saw me in you.

The woman turns around, but I can barely see her through the tears in my eyes.

"Kneel," she tells the three vampires. She pulls a vial from her pants pocket and uncorks it, the liquid clear like water. They obey, and I watch with curiosity. What is it she's giving them?

She pours a good amount into each of Janice's eyes, and she cries out as blood streams from them. My stomach leaps into my throat and I nearly fall over as Krogstad receives the same torture. The little girl gets it as well, but she doesn't cry out. She simply closes her eyes and stays silent, pausing before opening them again. They stare off into the distance. Are they... blind?

"Yen, Richard, and Evelyn," the woman says, beckoning three vampires from behind the volunteers forward. "Do the honors."

They extend their hands and bring them to cup the person's ears in front of them, only to pull them away from it again.

And then they clap their hands against the ears.

The three cry out again, two dropping to the floor. Mira lets out a gasp and drops to her hands after a moment, biting her lip. More blood streams down the sides of their face as sobs sneak into my throat, ready to let the water swelling on my bottom lids runneth over.

"Why are you doing this to them?" I whisper, my knees growing weak. My heart cries out to them—they don't deserve this.

The three appointed wait for the volunteers to sit upright again, their faces bloody and pained. Are they finished torturing them? What are they doing?

The appointed break the others noses, smashing their fists straight down onto the center of their faces. They grunt and shout, and I wonder what victory lies beyond this torture. This isn't for no reason, and it's no little reason, either.

"Don't worry, Kyla." The woman's voice is serene and sinister. "It's only temporary. Their bodies will heal. It'll take a day or two, but they'll be back to themselves in no-time." She turns to us. "The rules for the vampires is blindness, hyposmia, and deafness. They know these woods well, and they can feel the vibration of the earth if you stomp too hard. Their speed will go unused, but they can use their sonar if they feel like you're close. They get five chances to use it. Any more than that, and they will be beheaded.

"You have until sunrise, Christians. Find your watches before then. It's only a few hours away."

# Chapter Nineteen

†

I turn and sprint. We get a head start, apparently, exactly fifteen minutes to either find a place to hide or search for our pocket watches. And whatever I was going to do, I needed to figure it out. This forest is big, and I could see myself easily getting turned around.

My legs begin to grow tired almost immediately from my lack of exercise lately, the trees passing by not as fast as I want them to. I keep my eyes peeled for glints in the darkness of the bronze metal, praying to God I find it. Maybe I can find the others and bring it to them as well.

I stop in the midst of a small clearing and look around.

"Ten minutes!" I hear, and the two words echo around the woods by several mouths, even one right above me. I'm guessing all the vampires are watching to make sure no rules get broken.

I turn to a tree and debate on trying to climb up it or not. I decide against it, since the only tree I've ever been able to scale even the slightest was my Nana's out in her front yard in Corpus.

My feet take me further into the thick forest, sounds of animals and bugs rummaging around. I can feel the heat clinging to me, moist and sticky like warm syrup.

"Five minutes!"

My heart leaps into my threat, air trying to get past it quickly as panic sinks into my bones and I begin to shake. Fifteen minutes to scale this forest? I don't think so.

I duck behind a bush, my stench finally hitting me. I never knew I could smell that bad.

"I found it!"

I hear Sarah's voice echo through the trees, disturbing some of the wildlife trying to sleep.

I groan, growing frustrated at myself, although I can't help it.

Maybe God wants you to stay in longer.

I shake my head at the stray thought in my mind, the voice of doubt and fear streaking through my worry. But, I wonder, what if he does? What if I'm in here for a reason—nothing happens without one—and what if I'm to change someone's life?

I peer around, taking in my surroundings, looking for the watches.

"Kyla!"

The whisper sends my hair standing on end as I turn toward it. I know that voice, and it isn't Tony's, nor is it Sarah's. Nor is it any vampire I've encountered. But the voice brings a chill to my bones as I recall whose it is.

She's supposed to be dead.

"Heather?"

Her face is inches from mine, her eyes distant like they've always been. Bruises cover her neck, and blood is splattered across her dirty clothes.

"How did you... how did you get out here? How did you find me?"

"I'm blind, not helpless," she remarks.

"Three minutes!"

The echo makes my stomach unsettle itself even more. Something is off about this situation.

"But they snapped your neck. I saw it."

She shakes her head. "She didn't. It just looked like it. And when she dragged me away, she took me a room where she woke me up and explained something to me. I know where your watch is. You've made some enemies, Kyla."

I exhale, studying her.

And then my body goes stiff with assumption as the little girl's words replay in my head. There was a reason she repeated it to me in that maze. Is Heather that reason?

"They're all at the edge of the forest," she whispers. "Straight back. And be careful, they have hidden rules like they did in the maze."

I stare at her for another second, doubting the truth.

"Two minutes!"

"How do you know all this? And how do I know you're telling the truth?"

She licks her lips, nervous. "I've made an ally."

I exhale. There's something shady going on, and I can feel pinpricks of vampirian eyes digging into the back of my neck. I'm almost afraid to take her insight and use it for my own, but what choice do I have? Sit here until sunrise? That little girl... I know she's good at what she does. It shows on everything she is, and I can feel it as if it were her aura. She's probably a young vampire to some, but you can learn a lot in fifty years if you take the time. And knowledge can be the most powerful tool you can wield.

"Hurry," she whispers, holding out her hand for me to take, her distant stare filled with worry. I exhale slowly and grab her fingers, standing.

"Go straight back," she says, beginning to jog slowly, cautiously. I pull ahead, afraid she'll tumble to the ground.

"One minute!"

My breath hitches once more and I stop, unable to see the end of the trees.

"Why are you stopping?"

I glance back through the trees, almost able to see the three volunteers, still on their knees, staring painfully and blankly ahead of them.

"Do they know you're out here?" I ask. She hesitates. "Do the vampires know you're out here?"

"Yes," she whispers, giving away the guilt on her face. "I'm one of the hidden rules."

The voices ring out.

Her eyes turn black.

"Ready or not, here we come."

# Chapter Twenty

†

I hold on a scream and stumble over myself as I fall to the ground, something sticking my butt. I grunt as I hear the vampires begin to walk. Heather stands taller, her fully black eyes flicking down to me. She can see now. And that's if she was even blind in the first place.

She is what the little girl warned me about.

<Kyla.>

That voice... it's in my head. I can't help but see it in greater-than-less-than signs like in Animorphs. The little girl is speaking to me through thought. Thought-speech. Do vampires have... abilities? Like in certain stories and... like the one with the ones that... sparkle?

<Kyla, stay put. Don't move and she can't see you.>

I exhale as Heather flexes her fingers, a visible chill rattling her figure. Her long black hair shifts in the wind once, and I can feel the power rolling off her in waves. But something about it seems... off. In a good way, though.

"It's okay, Kyla," she says, a new sound to her voice. "I won't hurt you."

"You were... how long...?"

"Shhh," she says, squatting down to my eye-level. Her black eyes send a chill through my bones, but they aren't near as creepy as the little girls are.

She stands and lowers her hand to help me up. I stare at it for a moment, waiting for her to slice through me with her perfectly-trimmed nails. My eyes look her over, and I find nothing threatening coming in my direction. Not yet, anyway.

<Kyla, where are you? I need to find you.>

My heart tugs both ways. Why is Mira being so nice? And why did Heather lie to us all? Well, that's a given, and I can't be asking myself that without kicking myself for stupidity, but why?

Each time someone died in that room. Every time it went dark and there was a scream. Did she do that to any of them? Did she murder innocent people and prematurely send them to Heaven? Did she listen to the words the devil whispered in her ears, and is he whispering to her now?

And is she listening?

She moves her hand to her side, frustration present in her face, and I can see the anger there. And I can see a twinge of hunger.

I stand slowly, watching her carefully. She points again, no words passing her lips. I motion for her to lead the way and she does without a second thought. And then there's movement behind me.

I stop, frozen in my spot as the hairs on the back of my neck rise. My life is hanging in the careful balance of dangerous ends, several vampires around and above me. I know they're watching and listening, making sure I follow the rules they've placed before us. But this one rustling behind me feels like yet another hidden rule, one I don't care to figure out.

I stand still, looking over my shoulder. There, stands Krogstad, blood saturating the bandage that had been placed around his temporarily blinded eyes, angled slightly away from me. I can't help but hold my breath as a flush of coldness sloshes through my body and dislodges the terror I'd tried to suppress.

"I know you're here, Kyla," Krogstad says softly, calmly, clenching his bloody fists. "You will bow to me, yet."

A clicking sound erupts from his throat, and he begins to turn his head toward me. Is this their sonar? Their type of echolocation?

But how can they use it if they have no hearing? Can they feel the objects taking up the space around them? Is their sense of atmospheric pressure increased as well?

A blur flashes before me as Heather darts in his way, her hands out as if to protect me.

"Heather," he says, "I know you have her. You wouldn't have chosen the boy because you had no real connection to him."

Heather exhales sharply, and I see her open her mouth slightly and shut it again. He can't hear her.

"Go," she whispers.

I take a deep breath, almost afraid he really can sense my breath like a shark when it comes to blood in the water. Sharks don't have noses, but they have these receptor-thingies on them that lets them sense blood and whatnot. I always thought it was cool, but not so much anymore, now that it's being applied to me outside the water.

I walk away slowly. If he can sense the atmospheric pressure around him, and that's just a theory from my paranoid mass of pink matter, then he'd definitely be able to tell if I run. If I walk slowly, could that sixth sense of his be tricked?

I go the direction Heather has told me to: straight back. The trees grow thicker and thicker, and I can feel my own sixth sense pick up the hidden vampires around me.

There's rustling somewhere near me, and I almost freeze, my heart resting just behind my uvula. But I know I have to keep moving. If my theory is correct, and my hypothesis is too, then my movement should trick their hyperactive sixth sense into thinking my presence is that of an animal or something...

Hopefully I'm right.

I hold my breath as I keep my pace and walk past the rustling. As my breath stales in my lungs, I'm reminded of the animated series of Jackie Chan from when I was little. Their uncle or grandpa or whoever turned into a vampire or something and... Okay, it's been a really long time. I hardly even remember. But I think he couldn't smell them if they didn't breathe or something. Or something.

There was no point for that explanation.

The third girl that had volunteered appears out of the bushes and walks in a perpendicular line behind me. I turn rigid as she stops in the path I'd walked, seeming to wait for some giveaway. She turns my direction and begins following me slowly. My body begins to tingle and beg for me to pull away from her, to break out into a sprint, away from the blind lion stalking me, the tortured lamb.

I hear her stop as my feet continue crunching quietly along the ground. I'm not moving very fast, but the floor underfoot still betrays me, even if those that search for me can't hear.

My ears pick up Krogstad saying something else, but the words are unintelligible; I can't make any of them out.

So I focus on walking. I try not to let my mind wander, but I wonder about Heather, about Krogstad, and about Mira. Did I miss something important in the midst of everything that happened?

I zone back in on what I'm doing, counting my footsteps to keep me sane. A shout rings out through the trees, and all I can think about is Tony for the split moment I hear him. What had he found? Or had he been found?

And what other secrets lie in this game?

# Chapter Twenty-One

†

Another few minutes pass, and I still walk. I feel exposed and vulnerable. The two words I've come accustomed to using as of late. I keep my unsteady breaths slow, breathing only through my nose, even as the adrenaline begins to ebb away and I become a little too comfortable with walking in a straight line. I can see the moon shining through the trees, and a bloodcurdling howl nearly makes me stop right where I stand. Are there...?

I swallow nervously, feeling the fear creep up into my throat. My body elevates as I step onto a log, and, through the darkness and closeness of the trees, I see movement. An animal.

That's a—

<Kyla.>

The little girl's voice pulls me back into a paranoid frenzy, and I wrap my arms around myself, my stomach clenching and churning like witches brew.

The little girl peels herself out from behind a tree about five feet in front of me, her face turned directly to me. She wears a blood-soaked rag tied at the base of her head as well. It makes her look less creepy than before, now that I can't see as many of the black veins or the fully white eyes she holds.

<I know it's you there. You've stopped moving. And what's-his-name is out for the count. You're the only one left.>

I hold in a yelp as Heather appears right next to me, putting an arm before me to protect my human body. Why is she doing this? She's a vampire—she isn't on my side... is she?

<Heather isn't what she seems,> Mira says to me, her voice dropping an octave. <Trust me, and I can show you your necklace. She almost made you walk right into a trap.>

My brow furrows.

"Kyla," Heather whispers. "If you don't look at the wolves, they won't attack. It's a rule. Keep your eyes closed and I can lead you past them, just like you did for me in the maze. We can sneak past Mira, but you have to take my hand."

<Kyla, whatever she tells you is a lie. It has been from day one. The only thing that is true is that she's permanently blind. She is a liar. Don't go through those wolves; they'll kill you the moment they smell you.>

I feel gross. I feel betrayed. And, most of all, I feel completely and utterly confused. Something about both of these girls makes me feel like I can trust them, but so many more factors scream that I can't.

But something about the little girl...

"I'm so confused..." I whisper.

"Don't be. Do you want your watch or not?"

"How are you so sure it's over there?" I whisper, teetering on a faulty line.

She turns and glares at me.

"Do you not trust me?"

Heather's voice has reached just above a whisper, and I'm afraid their hearing is slowly returning, and that maybe they can hear us speaking to each other.

"No, I just—"

"Fine. Let's see how well you do on your own. When you come to your senses, I'll be right here. Waiting."

She crouches and then leaps into a low branch just above my head, staring down at me with almost glowing black eyes. The anger presses against my skin, and, suddenly, it's like I can feel the atmospheric pressure.

My eyes drift back down to the little girl, who stands completely still.

<Go and find your watch,> she tells me, turning to her left, clicking coming from her throat, as if she's looking for me. <Go right.>

I turn and begin to jog through the trees, my eyes scanning everything they can. I slow down, reminding myself that Krogstad is looking for me too, so it seems. But why?

Nothing is behind me, but my eyes search each dark crevice I can see, waiting for something to explode out of nowhere and attack, or even for the little girl to change her mind about me.

I trip and fall to the ground.

A yelp lurches from my throat as I scramble off of what I'd fallen on, the cooling blood adding to the collection on my fiancé's jacket. My hand covers my lips as air leaps from my lungs and denies return. I thought she...

Sara has is dead, a large branch stuck through her body.

"Oh, would you look that that," a voice says softly, a jokingly sinister tone overlaying it, "she's been impaled."

My eyes find the voice as he steps out from behind a tree, a sickening smirk on his face. Something like a growl escapes my chest and I stand, running toward him. My shoulder collides with his sternum and we fall to the ground. His hand is on my throat and my head hits the ground hard, ringing busting my ears as I go limp and lightheaded. Krogstad chuckles as he straddles me, pressing on my throat as I close in on unconsciousness and choke and cough.

"There's that fire," he whispers, coming close to my face. "That's what o was waiting for."

He lifts his hand and presses his palm to my forehead, my brain grasping at the tendrils of information my eyes and ears can reach. Krogstad's body is freezing cold, making me shiver once as a headache throbs in my brain.

"There's another rule at play here." He explains, blood from his eyes and ears finding a way to my face, committing suicide as it jumps from his ego to my strength. I groan in pain, my brain slowly beginning to connect once more. "Another hidden one. You see, the person I was supposed to find fell to her death as she reached for her watch, right after grasping yours."

"Mine?"

He sneers. "Of course, I gave her a little push. And now that she's gone, I can help one vampire find their human. And if I do, I can either kill the vampire in order to have the prey all for myself, or I can give away your location in order to watch you die by their hands.

"I prefer the former."

His nose nearly touches mine as he leans down the rest of the way, drawing in a deep breath, letting my scent devour him.

"Oh, how I love to watch you hypocrites die."

He stands, releasing a tremendous amount of pressure off my body, and breath comes easier for me. All I want to do is sleep. Drift off into the darkness and onto Planet Drool, where all dreams are stored. Or Wonderland, where I would be right at home with the Hatter and the Queen of Hearts. Off with her head, I say. What a wonderful place.

"I'll see you again in a few minutes," he whispers, his breath caressing my face. "You know how the Leader loves her rules."

With that, he is gone like the day, like my hope, like my future. Nineteen years on this earth for nothing. And what have I accomplished? Maybe I've touched people with my words and with my songs, but perhaps it meant nothing. Those people don't know me. They know of me. They know what I have to say about certain issues. And have I wasted all those years? When I arrive at the gates, will God say I did well, or will he tell me my life became a waste due to my own actions? And if so, I'll know there is no one to blame but myself. I know better. I always knew better.

But I can't sleep. I can't be taken by the silence and death that wait on the other side of my world, behind the invisible curtain painted around us. I feel like there is still more for me to do.

My body refuses to move as I slowly turn myself over, grunting at the migraine that has blossomed into more than just that. My brain sloshes as I find my feet and I glance at Sarah, her eyes open wide and looking upward, almost directly at me. I squat beside her, cringing at the altitude change, and use two fingers to shut her eyes and her mouth. I gag as I touch the stick, wanting to pull it out. But I know I can't. I won't be able to. My stomach, my will is too weak. So I leave it and pray that she made it. A sob escapes past my tongue and lower my head, clasp my hands, and find a prayer that's short and inside my head, ending it as I move my eyes over her, my breaths barely keeping my body at homeostasis.

The watch around her neck ticks loudly as the one near her fingers makes no sound. On the back it says her name in fancy lettering. He had said...

My eyes jerk back to the one around her neck. My fingers tremble as I flip it over, the metal glinting in the filtered moonlight. My breath catches as adrenaline slips into my veins.

The one she wears is mine.

# Chapter Twenty-Two

†

I shift up to where her head is, looking over my shoulder, paranoid. How far away is Mira? And how far has Krogstad gotten?

My hands shake as I reach for my watch and grasp it. I debate pulling it from the chain, but what if that's a rule? What if you need the chain as well?

Or maybe my worry is getting out of hand.

Slowly, I pull the watch over her chin and around her ears as it catches on them, her hair rustling as the chain beneath it does. I nearly gag at the thought of touching her to pick up her head, but I've seen and touched much, much worse than just a dead body.

I take in a deep breath and use the tips of my fingers to lift her lifeless skull from the ground and slip the chain around it, her hair the loudest thing above the soft clinking of the metal. I pull it from her hair and wrap the watch around my neck, reading over the words on the back.

Kyla Vonemben.

"I found it," I whisper, awestruck. My eyes move to Sarah's absent body. "Thank you."

My legs find their strength as my knees let out a chorus of cracks, my bones aching to fall upon a deep slumber. But that is not to be—not yet, anyway. The only way I'll get rest is to escape this building of terror through the exit or death. Of course, I'd prefer the former; I'd get to see my family one last time and let them know that I made it out alive.

I sprint in the direction I believe the woman is, knowing that now I can move to phase two alive. I have my watch. The rules said I could move on.

I'm afraid of what rules may lie ahead of me—of what rules might draw a loophole for me to plummet through.

Glad my sense of direction is sometimes correct, I see the woman staring me down. Her eyes travel to my watch and her eyes flick up to me, my bones feeling fragile suddenly. I slow and come to a stop just before her, my breathing ragged and strangled. I can barely hold myself up as my head swims and goes light for a moment.

"The first to correctly discover where your watch laid. Congratulations, Kyla."

Her smile turns up violently, her long teeth telling me there's more to this game than they're letting on.

The word "What?" slips from behind my teeth before my tongue could catch it. It isn't demanding, it isn't rude, but it is filled with dread as I feel all the blood leave my face.

"One of the rules is not to announce that you've found your watch. And, although it was silent, you did."

"And what is the punishment?" I ask, clutching my watch.

"You have two choices," she smiles, clasping her hands before her as the line of vampires behind her chuckle. A scream rips through the trees. "You can either hand me your watch to hide it and try again, or you can take your watch and go back into The Blood Room."

I'm terrible at finding things. Ketchup disappears before my eyes in the fridge—I couldn't try to find the watch again. Not by myself. And at least I know I can stay strong in the Blood Room.

Or...

Maybe I can only hold on for so much longer.

"Tick-tock, Kyla," she says. "I know you don't see the points of these tests and trials, but we're getting fabulous data from your group specifically. It is why we are sending you through this "Tribulation". We are nearly finished with collecting our data."

"I..." my eyes search the trees around me, catching on the little girl.

She cocks her head to the side. "Marissa, why did Krogstad attempt to kill me?"

She stands still as the woman before me, who finally has a name, shifts her weight and attention. "The rules, Mira."

"You know how I feel about rules that immobilize me, Marissa."

"It's always been that way, Mira, and you were aware of the cost of failing."

Mira's little body is frozen in that spot, and I'm not sure what to make of her emotions. She reaches back and unties the cloth that is unsuccessfully keeping the blood from her eyes seeping onto her cheeks, and drops it to the ground. Her white eyes are covered with bloodspots and pulsating red veins. Her nose is purple, the bruise reaching out to the insides of her eyes. She reminds me of myself when I'd broken my nose in cheerleading, only much, much creepier.

"I also was aware that you withheld rules from the people taking on your experiments. And it's about time you stopped. My daddy wouldn't like what you were doing with his research funds."

"Your daddy is dead because of people like them."

Mira shakes her head slowly, blood trickling down from her eyes. Her hands dangle at her sides, the intensity of the moment increasing as she plays the silence like a drum and my heart transforms into one itself.

"My daddy is dead because I killed him for what he did for my mother. It had nothing to do with the faith that hung in a delicate balance when anyone was around him. I should be in the position you stand at, but he chose you as his plaything and you've annihilated everything he's ever created by calling these sick experiments 'games'. I'm not as naive as I look, and I've never been as stupid as you think me to be."

"Are you standing up for these pathetic humans?" Marissa snaps, her full attention on Mira as the little girl reaches behind a tree. Her face is blank as she lifts something from the shadows, and it takes me a moment to make out what Marissa slightly gasps about.

Mira smiles, making my stomach churn more as I try so hard to look away from what she holds, but I can't. I am unable.

A part of me tells me it was deserved. I shove it away. No one deserves that.

She holds the bleeding head away from her body, the bleeding eyes distant and red as the veins and pat of a spinal cord dangles from the severed neck. Did she just rip it straight off his body? And why? Did he attempt to kill her?

But I was right about being good at what she does. She is lethal.

"That's against the rules, Mira," Marissa hisses.

The little girl walks slowly up to Marissa, head still in hand.

"For fifty years I've been following the rules and been losing my head because my daddy liked you. But not anymore. Today, I stand with this weak creature and all she stands for, because this is not how it was supposed to be."

Marissa snorts, the two of them acting as if the world has disappeared around them. The other vampires stand around, dumbfounded and unsure of what to do, and probably whose side to take.

"I'm good at what I do, Marissa, and I've spent my share of time alone in The Blood Room for your precious experiments. And there, I learned to hone every aspect of my vampirism, this disease that has taken my body and my spirit, my brain melting with every second passing by. I've lived by the rules, and I've justified the rules are unfair and I've declared them as unscientific. I'm dislodging your reign as the Leader and dismantling you from your position."

"You can't do that," Marissa threatens, coming close to the little girl.

Mira smiles, her teeth red with blood as he face contorts into something even more terrifying than before.

In the blink of an eye, Mira's hand is around Marissa's throat and squeezing, blood beginning to seep out from the veins beneath her fingertips.

"Oh, I can. And I will."

With one flick of her wrist the little vampire flings Marissa over her shoulder, making her soar through two tree trunks. Her smile grows.

"You should have listened to me, Marissa," she coos, her features distorting as she begins to shift and grow into something terrifying. "Now I'll just have to rip you from the fabric of time itself."

# Chapter Twenty-Three

†

The little girl grows only slightly, but her skin stretches and it seems as if she will rip in two. Blood spurts from her pores, covering her and blossoming through her chest as her nails grow, the liquid falling off of them like sticky rain. Her eyes turn black as she spins around to face Marissa, who slowly picks herself back up.

Mira lets out a screech much like a bat, but much like a human, the paper-thin-like pieces that make up bat wings somewhat appearing between her joints, dangling from her arms. She looks one-fourth bat, drenched in blood.

My insides shudder as I find no words.

Mira slams one fistful of claws down into the dirt and uses it to propel herself forward. Her feet, which have broken through her tiny pink shoes, have turned talon-like, and she rips it across Marissa's chest, the woman screaming in pain.

Someone drops from the trees next to me. I take a few steps back until my eyes focus on who it is. Heather stands there, her black eyes staring at me, her jaw tight. She comes forward and grips me hard by the arm. I protest, but she tugs me back to the building, my feet tripping over themselves. I look back from where the inhumane screams echo to see Marissa fighting back. I can't tell who's winning.

My feet fail me and I tumble to the ground.

She pulls me through the threshold and the sterile air hits me, nausea exploding through my nose and past my brain. My heart pulls away from the vampire that had lied to me, to all of us in the Blood Room, and I try and yank away. She doesn't budge, nor does she say a word about my protesting, or answer any of my questions. I peek over my shoulder every so often, but the door is shut, and no one walks behind me, following my every move.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask her, my voice nearly failing me as my other hand grasps the pocket watch around my neck. Right now, it feels like my lifeline, whether I like it or not.

Heather says nothing as she tosses open a door, a door I know well. Before doing anything else, she turns to look at me. She says, "You should have trusted me."

She flings me into the room, my back hitting the right wall. The room is dark, but I recognize the stench as it enters my sinuses. My body begins to panic; I don't want to be in here. I want to escape. I didn't have to come in here. I had a choice--I had a choice...

"Welcome back to the Blood Room, Kyla," Heather whispers, and slams the door shut.

I am alone in the darkness.

I have come full circle.

†

Minutes bleed into hours and I collapse into myself. How long will I be here again? Will I be the next Markus, who stayed in here for two _years?_ Or will I become food for those who want to oppress me and find control in the uncontrollable? How many ore minutes--hours will be spent in this room of bloodshed and death and lost souls? I'm battling things that sold their soul to the wrong entity--how can anything with a soul comprehend what it's like to love God and feel his love returned to you a thousand times more powerful and lovely than anyone could ever think possible? How could someone without a soul or a beating heart understand what it's like to love with all your soul, and to live for one thing, for one being with every beat of their heart and breath their lungs take in? And maybe that's why I'm here: to help the lost be found. To let the darkness flood with light, and to let those who have stepped on the idea of God see what it's really about. They see the hypocrites. But it's those who live without hypocrisy they can't figure out and can't crack as easily as the rest, and that's why this experiment is in place. And maybe, just maybe, this experiment is in place to shed light of ignorance and uncertainty and show everyone who Jesus, who _God_ really is. Not what's happening on the surface, but behind the scenes. Not the torture and terror we Christians are witnessing here in this establishment, but the strength we are gaining and the hope we have of one day leaving this place for somewhere better, whether it be in the arms of our families for a short time, or in heaven for eternity. The bigger picture is calling me to look at it, and it's telling me to hold on. That the best thing to do is pray and hope and wait. To be still and know that He is Lord. That death is not a punctuation mark, but a comma, leading into a new idea and a continuation of a life, its outcome good or bad, and we know it's up to us. I grow cold, and I grow tired. But I know there's more to this than meets the eye. There always is, and I've always seen it. And if I die here, if I live, I know I will come out of this better, and I know God is smiling down on me. Hopefully one day, he'll tell me I did well. That I lived how I should, more in the last parts of my life than in the beginning. But the past can't be changed and it can't be erased. It's what happens in the present that matters. This moment, this moment where the breath escapes my lungs and I feel my heart slow, this is the one that matters. My body may be dying, but my soul will live on in heaven.

God, be with me.

I can feel my life dwindling. I just want to sleep. Everything calls me to sleep.

Tears fall from my eyes. My stomach feels as if it eats itself and I can't help but cry. I haven't been fed in what feels like days.

This is it, isn't it?

The door to the Blood Room is swung open, and a body is thrown into the room. It grunts as the door slams shut words said that I can't understand. I watch as it sits up in the darkness and turns to me. I recognize her. Her clothes are torn and tattered, just as they were before, her face bloody and her body mangled like an injured bird lying on the side of the road.

"Kyla," she says. The tiny voice barley makes it to my ears, and I don't move. My eyes aren't able to stay open. So they close. All my energy has left me. I can't feel my body any longer.

"This is where they put you," she whispers, her voice like a strangled cat. She drags herself over to me and lays beside me, her breaths falling heavy as well. "I thought you were dead."

When I say nothing, she touches my neck, checking my pulse.

She exhales. "My mother always told me that God would love me no matter what. I didn't believe it for the longest time. But seeing how different each one of you were over the many years this has been going on, I think I believe it now."

My lungs ache as I struggle to breathe, the hunger crushing my body. My throat burns, longing for water, but I know I'll find none. This is the end of the road here on this Earth.

"You created a friend in me, Kyla Vonemben," she whispers as I begin to drift. "And God will know my name, because I have decided to believe and change my life for the better. I have accepted him into my heart."

She coughs, a rough, clogged sound exploding past her tongue. I opened my eyes at the sound, one last burst of energy sparking through me before I shut them for good. I watch as her eyes clear and her body shifts and grows. I watch her age, reach past ten years, fifteen, twenty... and suddenly, she's fifty-five, and has quit growing.

She smiles at me, fifty years young, and takes my hand in hers. It's warm, and she coughs, her skin taught on her bones.

"Thank you for saving me, Kyla, and showing me The Way. I hope God will find a use for me in heaven, and that he will look at me and welcome my reclaimed soul with open arms."

I close my eyes, feeling the waves take me under. Death embraces me gently, and I feel the pain ebbing away. And then I hear a voice.

I hear a voice. The voice of my Nana as it wraps around me. Tobias had told me one that when you die, God sends your family to greet you at the gates of heaven to comfort you and welcome you. He'd died in surgery, but God wasn't through with him on Earth yet. He returned.

Only I know I won't.

"It's time," Mira whispers, and I hear her draw her last breath as the faces of those I love surround me.

I am home.

#

# Other Books by K. Weikel

The One-Hundred Series

The One-Hundred

Untouched Water

Tamir

Damian's Deeds

The Maskless Trilogy

Hiding Behind A Mask

Hiding Behind A Name

Hiding Behind A Face

The Haunted Mansion Series

The Haunted Mansion

The Haunted Band Room

Revenge

The Unnamed Duology

The Unnamed

The Elite

The Trapped Trilogy

Trapped

Wiped

Grounded

The Vampire's Carnival

Krystal's World

Catrina Billowson

Building Monsters

List X

Labyrinth

Dollhouse

Figures

Caged

Match

