How Fate Binds Us

The Company

He really wasn’t alone. Someone was in here in this house too. There were two possibilities on who it could be. One of those jerks was messing with him or something else entirely. And he didn’t want to stick around to see if it was the latter. He dropped the camera and raced out the door just as it began to clatter on the floor.

Colton sprinted through the corridors, running as fast as he can. But the farther he thought he ran from the source, the louder the laughter seemed to get. His ears were ringing, booms of laughter were coming from all directions. He closed his eyes, covering his ears with his hands. But he could still hear the noise, no matter how hard he pressed his hands on his ears.

“No!” He screeched at the top of his lungs. “No!”

But that was when Colton lost his footing and flew into the air. His arms automatically went up to shield himself. In midair, he twisted his body to his left side. His left shoulder was what he sacrificed when he crashed on the floor. Then he tumbled on the ground, curling himself into a ball. Colton lied there, clutching his shoulder and whimpering in pain. It’s broken he realized, broken really badly. Colton got to his knees and used the wall to support him as he got off. He leaned on the wall, sucking in air through his teeth when he touched his shoulder. He winced, his shoulder felt like it was on fire.

“Perfect,” he growled. “Just perfect.”

Being injured in a haunted house with someone or something trapped with him. That’s all he needed. He took a step with his right foot but suddenly recoiled. Was his foot broken too? He inspect it with his good hand, no it’s only sprained.

He could just give up and stay here until help arrives. But the thing might get to him first. And he doubt anyone would come here. No one knows he’s here except those guys who dared him, so help wouldn’t be coming anytime soon. He could find something to defend himself, he still has his good hand. A battle axe would be good, or maybe a chainsaw. But all in all, a bazooka would be more preferable. Colton made a wry laugh. His sense of humor might be the only thing that’s keeping him going. They always say it’s best to die laughing. Did they say that? He didn’t know. He shook the thought away, stay focus he reminded himself.

He started going to the opposite direction from which he came. He limped as he walked, one hand always on the wall to help him as he walked. As he winced every time he accidentally stepped on his bad foot it got him thinking. The place where he found the portrait didn’t look anything like the ballroom. When he thought ball room he either thought where the school equipment is stored or the ball like in Cinderella. He guessed it was the latter.  People didn’t know where the portrait was really located since they all lied. So either that wasn’t the portrait or there is a second portrait in the ball room.

The conclusion didn’t make him feel any better. Would it still count taking a picture of a faceless portrait? No one would really have to know. That could be the real portrait all they know. Besides, maybe someone moved the portrait there for some apparent reason. And it’s the real portrait after all. That comforted him and he continued to limp down the corridor. But something happened that made him stop short.

The ballroom, Colton, a soft, faint whisper said that tickled his ear. Find it.

He froze in place. The ballroom, Colton, find it. But that wasn’t what worried him, it was the message himself. Who said that? Where did it come from? Was he losing his mind? He was only in this place for a couple of hours and already he's losing his mind.

Colton began to walk faster, regardless of his limping. His fear of that whisper was more than each pain his sprained ankle took with every step. But his fear made him forget that, it was a sudden adrenaline rush. He needed to survive, to live, a survival instinct. And that just made him walk even faster.