Page 18 of Bears Not Included

I’ve run out of time. “She falls in love with the three bears.”

“Ah, so you do know the right version of the story.”

“Please, let me leave. I’m not a threat. I’m nobody. I just wanted to see the place. I didn’t take anything. I don’t even know who owns this property. There are no records. I know nothing else. Please, let me go.”

“How badly do you want to live, pretty girl?”

“Please…” I quiver uncontrollably, and all I can do is beg. It didn’t take me long to get to this point, and I’m seconds away from dropping to my knees.

“Then you have to do three things.”

But something bothers me. Something about the voice. The cadence. The way it hits differently sometimes. My heart starts to pound out of my chest. I can’t be sure, but I think I may be hearing three different voices even though the same voice modulation software is being used.

But I’m also convinced I’m now just creating unnecessary problems for myself in my head. I don’t need any more imaginary obstacles. I don’t need three persecutors. Even one is too much. And still, I feel I’m right.

I have three persecutors.

A sinking darkness drags me further into hell. There are three of them and one of me.

My attention immediately shifts to the table with three wooden bowls, the deathly-looking three chairs, and the three beds that aren’t very inviting either. This is no longer a fairytale.

There is also something about them that tells me no amount of begging, pleading, or negotiation is going to set me free. I’m fighting for my life now.

And there’s no certainty whatsoever that if I complete whatever those three things are, I will be released. My options are to do nothing and die, or do something and maybe, maybe not die.

I try to remove from my head all those horror movies I used to watch. Will I be the last girl to make it? Or the one who gets violently killed because she makes a stupid move.

“What do I have to do?” My voice breaks, and I sound as petrified as I feel. Maybe I should have begged more. Negotiated more. Everything feels rushed and surreal. However, nothing would have helped; I know this in the deepest part of my mind and soul.

“To play for your life, you have to first remove all your clothes.”

“What?” I ask. I can feel the shock and confusion seep into my eyes as I look around for the camera yet again.

“You heard me.”

I hesitate.

“Time is ticking, pretty girl.”

Dear god, please let me survive this. I bend and remove my sneakers. I keep my socks on. I then grip the hem of my hoodie and shrug out of it. I remove my long-sleeve t-shirt and then my long-sleeved thermal top, leaving me in only a pink bra. I can’t tell if I’m trembling because the room is cold or because I’m scared.

I dig my fingers into the band of my sweatpants and tug them down over my hips and off my feet. I’m standing in nothing but my bra, my underwear, and my socks.

“Everything.”

Chapter Ten

Livia

A streak of defiance rushes through me. I’m at once so angry that the person, or people on the other side has this power over me but is cowardly enough not to show their face.

But I have to play this game. Right now, everything is too volatile. I don’t know the rules, the penalties, and the level of skill required of me to make it out alive if that is even an option. My pride wants me to flip him the middle finger. My sense of survival wants me to take every chance I can to get out.

I remove my bra, then my underwear and socks. I’m completely naked and being watched by god knows who from god knows where. My imagination runs rampant as I try to envision the faces of the psychos who locked me in here.

“Place your clothes and shoes—everything—in the basket behind you.”

I turn and do as I’m told. I open the lid of the basket, and as soon as I drop my clothes into it, it turns into some sort of suction machine, and my clothes disappear instantly.

---