The Mafia | An Original Horror Story

Chapter 4: The Rules

The more I sat still the more I lost hope of ever getting out. And with every moment passing, the old man's taunts made me want to cry into a ball. To think that an hour ago I was safe at home with my brother.

"Okay, let's start with the rules," he spoke with eyes searching all of ours, "I know, I know. You all know the rules. But, mine are slightly different. A little more deadly."

My heart felt heavier than before. I wasn't ready to die. We just came here to play a harmless game.

Then I felt my eyes flicker to where a girl who looked my age stood up from where she sat. With confidence I could never perform in such a situation. She confronted the old man with a broken chair leg that she had tucked away in her turtle neck sweater.

"You bastard! My sister and I have played your murderous game, and sacrificed so much! You cannot just add more innocent people just when the game was finally beginning to end." The young girl demanded with a slight bit of fear in her voice.

The old man smirked and mocked her position. There was no anger for her defiance. Only sympathy.

"My dear Katrina," the old man's voice became excited as he threw his hands up in the air, "the night is young!  More fun, more play! The possibilities are endless."

Cautious anger blew up in her eyes.

"Yeah, the possibilities of me putting this chair leg in your bloody skull!" Katrina threatened.

With those words, the old man snapped. He charged her like static electricity. His eyes turning a pitch black. His gnarled hands darting for her throat. Picking her clean of the ground. The younger girl who was sitting next to Katrina pleaded for her life. The old man seemed to love her choice of beg. This young girl must've been Katrina's sister.

"Please! We will play your game!" The girl said as tears poured out of her eyes.

It took a moment for the old man to respond. But eventually he let go of Katrina's neck and threw her next to her sister on the ground.

"Okay. Does anyone else have any complaints." He searched our blank faces to no response, "Good."

He paces around the room to keep all of our fear rising and clasps his hands together.

"Well, where was I? Ah, yes. Rules. I will be the narrator and come around and whisper in your ear. I will ether say Your not the Mafia, Your the Mafia, or Your the angel. Only one person will be the Mafia and one be the angel. If you aren't the Mafia, then all you need to do is hide yourself throughout the house and avoid being killed by the Mafia. If you are the Mafia, then you get the honor to kill anyone you wish and once you kill that person, the round is over. If you are the Angel, then  you get to save anyone you like. It could even be yourself. However, the one you save may or may not be the one being killed. So choose wisely." the old man continued with a smile strenching for ether ear. "There are other ways to die. For instance, if you kill someone and you are not the Mafia. Then you die. If you tell anyone about your position being ether Mafia or Angel. You die. And finally. If you decide not play your part as a Mafia. You die. No one leaves this house till the game is over."

I could already see sweat dripping down my trembling face. Glancing to ether side of me. Kayla and Brandon wore the same faces as I did. It was quiet as everyone of eyed another. Unsure if we could trust them or not. In a second he would be picking who was the Angel and Mafia.

If there was a way I could tell Dean. Tell him not to come. Tell him to get to the authorities. But, stupid me. I left my phone in my car. Dean could come any minute and die along with the rest of us.

Coming here was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

"Okay, who's ready to hear there job?" the old man humored, his face lighting up in excitment.

Every stood silent. Looking to my left, I noticed Kayla start to cry. But she knew if she cried any louder. The old man would target. So she sucked it up and pinched herself. 

Glancing to the other side of the room. An older caucasianed boy stared at me. Blank faced without emotion. I suddenly became sick to my stomach.

The old man walked over to Samar who inched away from him as best as she could. The old man reached for the side of her face and pulled her close to his lips. He spun her head around and whispered into her ear. She shivered from the cold breath that praised on her ear lobe.

Releasing his grip on her, the old man shot her a sinister smile. Something wasnt right. Could she be the Mafia. But I shouldnt point fingers right away. Part of the narrator's job is to trick it's player into thinking false things. Plus, Samar would've showed some kind of terror of becoming the Mafia.

Once, the man got to me. He leaned in close and studdered with his words before speaking. His voice so close sound like mourning souls. The souls of children he's taken in the past. And I may be one of those children by morning.

His breath was cold and sent a shiver down my spine. As he spoke, I felt as if he was slipping a slimy worm down my ear and hitting my drum, sending ringing through out my ear.

"Your," he stopped to keeping me unsure and scared, "not the Mafia." 

I felt weight being lifted. 

But just when a problem dissapeared, another arose.

"Alright," the old man spoke with a cheer, "Let the game begin."