Camp Murder (Inanimate Insanity)

Chapter 19 - Tricks

(TW: Suicide)

Test Tube entered the yellow sheets into the printer with a gloved hand. The group stared on, barely breathing, as the machinery whirred and clanked. The paper churned its way out of the other end slowly - too slowly. Her catlike eyes gazed over layers of text on the screen, taking it in with immense speed.

Paintbrush broke the silence with a nervous tone. "...What does it say?"
Test Tube's hard expression faded. "I-I don't really know. It just..."
She reached for Fan, who gave her his hand obediently. He turned his head away to hide the blush forming on his cheeks.

"Obviously Fan's fingerprints are on it, but there aren't any others."
The printer beeped aggressively.
"...oh, wait. It's picked up more fingerprints. Um...Marshmallow? Why are your fingerprints on the letters?"

The girl gasped, flung out of her trance as if she'd been thrown against the wall. "W-what? Me? I didn't... I couldn't...."
"There's been a mistake." Paintbrush clenched balled their hands into fists.
Test Tube shook her head, glasses sliding down her nose. "N-no... The machine doesn't make mistakes." She turned to Marsh. "You-"
Paintbrush dug their fingernails into her shoulders. "THERE'S BEEN A GODDAMN MISTAKE!"

In the blink of an eye, Test Tube was thrown against a countertop. Vials shattered around her, stabbing into her skin and causing her to groan weakly.

Fan cried, "What the hell was that?!" as he pushed past the group to help Test Tube to her feet. A wave of dread hit Paintbrush like a truck as they turned to their friend. "Fan must've shown them to her, right? Marsh?"
Marshmallow stayed silent. Fresh tears slid down her cheeks once again. What was one to say in a situation like this, anyway?

"Test Tube!" Lightbulb's voice echoed through the lab. "You know Marshmallow wouldn't do that!"
Detective mode activated. Fan's grip on Test Tube tightened as he observed, "She has been acting weird."
The scientist nodded. "R-right! I wouldn't lie about this!"

"Maybe..." Paintbrush's tone gave away very little. "Maybe YOU'RE the murderer!" They pointed at Test Tube. Both her and Fan felt as if they had been shot in the chest. "What?!"

"Guys-" Lightbulb spoke.

"Don't be an idiot, Paintbrush!"
"Oh-ho! An idiot, huh? What about you, Fan? Are you the murderer?"
"Stop! You're going to break something!"

"Guys."

"How would you feel if your little murder weapons got destroyed?" Paintbrush swiped a shelf clean of glass jars. Multicolor liquid splattered the floor.
"St-Stop!"

"Guys!"
The other three looked at Lightbulb simultaneously.
"Marshmallow is gone."

-

All Marshmallow could hear was her beating heart. It was loud in her ears, a heavy thud, pushing her forward. There was somewhere she needed to be; something she needed to do.

Through the trees, Marsh could see a mansion. Despite the darkness, she could still make out it's shape, silhouetted against the intense full moon. Marshmallow broke through the greenery and ran towards it.

Once up close, she found herself unable to enter. Just stare. Marshmallow observed the peeling purple wood; the tangled ivy clinging so closely to it's walls. How she wished she could cling to someone like that. The girl's heart throbbed in her chest. As much as she wanted to cry, to feel, she couldn't. She could feel a rift spread between the team; one that she had caused.

That's when the rain started. Thunder grumbled softly and lightning illuminated the surroundings for a split second.

A gust of wind swung open the mansion's doors. It was time.

Marshmallow walked across the rotting panels and into the doorway. The mansion was pitch black, except for the occasional flash of lightning.

And the ghost.

"What the hell..." She spoke aloud. A foggy figure drifted in front of her. The features were that of her once beloved friend-
"B-bow?!"
The figure wrapped around Marshmallow. It sent a shiver down her spine. "Marsh, finally, good to see ya'! I was hoping you'd come here! Oh my god, it's like, so boring without you. I cant even eat, or sleep, or-"
Bewildered, Marshmallow cried, "W-what the hell is going on?!"

'Am I going insane?' She thought. 'Have I finally lost it?'

"It's me, silly! Bow? Remember?"
"Um...yeah..."
"What are you doing here?" The ghost asked in a perky voice.
Bow seemed so...Bow-like. Marshmallow felt herself grow comfortable; the encounter felt so real and natural.
"I was kind of hoping to..." Marsh looked at her feet. "Well... I came to, uh, k-kick the bucket."

Bow stared at her for an uncomfortable amount of time. The ghost was equipped with uncannily real eyes that bore into Marshmallow and made her squirm.
After a prolonged silence, Bow chirped, "Well, why didn't you say so?! It gets so, like, boring here. Maybe it'd be nice to have another person hanging around!"
"You think I should?"
"Well, I'm not saying you shouldn't. Here, follow me, I'll show you something cool!"

Using the light radiating from her body, the ghost lead Marshmallow into a small room at the side of the house. A library with a small square window. Despite its dustiness, Marsh was charmed by the quant old room. The nostalgic smell of books was one she missed dearly.

In fact, she almost missed the chair standing in the centre of the room. Almost.
Above it hung a rope. A nice necklace, she thought. Snug fit.

Bow turned to Marshmallow with a dazzling grin. "You likey?" 
In response, she embraced her friend tightly. The cold chill she once felt had now materialised into an almost warm sensation: one she had craved for so long.

This was how it was supposed to be.
Marshmallow stood on the chair.
Everything happens for a reason.
She put the rope around her neck.
Good things come to good people.
She tightened it.
Apple would've wanted this. Apple would've wanted her.
She kicked the chair from beneath her.

Marsh's eyes landed on the window. A face peered into the glass, clad with a smirk. A smirk that screamed: 'You're an idiot.'

Her final thought was one of horror.
There was no Bow to chatter away the pain, she realised. No Apple waiting on the other side with open arms. No perfect safe-haven away from the game.
Just a murderer. A murderer with a trap that she had fallen into.

A luminous yellow sheet of paper was pasted to the window.