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t o r t u r e

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t o r t u r e


DOWNSTAIRS WAS ABSOLUTELY, completely and upsettingly frightening.

What I expected in a worst-case scenario when I made it to the last step of the stairs was a grungy torture room made for inflicting slow, excruciating pain in the worst of ways.

But then again, I also didn't expect to be right.

Jesus.

The floor was littered with chains, knives—was that a fucking Heretics Fork?—and tools, which I doubted were there because they were psychotic but mechanical handymen. The wall was lined with a metal table arranged with chains and thick ropes. There were rakes and shovels leaning against the adjacent wall and looking at the pruners and soil knives, I guessed they weren't going gardening either.

Another shout, somewhat muffle this time, echoed within the basement.

Tyler.

Hating every second of it, I moved further into the room and nearly tripped over what looked like a bear trap—seriously, what the fuck?

Another muffled shout close by echoed within the basement.

Shit, shit, shit.

I quickly grabbed a hefty looking shovel from the wall before I moved up ahead to the turn at the left. There were deadlier options, yes, but I figured it wasn't too sensible to carry around a bear trap or a small pruner.

So shovel it was.

Keeping my back to the wall, I peeked to the left and discovered that maybe, just maybe, I was better off upstairs in the dark, alone and with no cover than I was here. Because suddenly it was almost as if every evil scientist nightmare had come to life, but instead of the actual evil scientist, there were people dressed as clowns who got some sort of sick satisfaction by terrorizing innocent people.

Tyler appeared unconscious as two of them lugged him towards a chair that had actual spikes on it: on the back, on the seat and on the arms.

They were going medieval with this shit.

What I discerned was that I hadn't seen these guys before. One of them wore a light blue, shiny costume and green fake hair, and the other was swathed in red with matching hair. I had to say, they all looked different from one another, all of them on different levels of disturbing. Jesus, couldn't they just, I don't know, half-ass this dysfunctional game of theirs? Like, instead of the heavily painted faces, couldn't they just put on masks that if we ever got close enough to rip off, wouldn't be as creepy?

But of course not. They were going full-clown.

Another thing I noticed were the words stitched at the back of their costumes. The red one said Chuckles and the blue one that said Sozo.

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