Page 30 of The Hallows Boys

For weeks, I’ve let anger burn me up and bring me down, and now I’m going to die. Now I’m going to just be another headstone in the Blackmore Cemetery.

I bang my fists against the lid of the coffin one more time, then I let my limbs fall lax. I sniffle back the tears that have kept flowing, letting them turn to dried spots on my cheeks, and I take a deep breath in.

I’m not dead, and I’m going to get the fuck out of here. I’m going to fight. They have to take me out of the coffin at some point, right? And when they do, I’ll be ready.

No one is coming to save me. Who would? I have no one… it’s just me, myself and I.

I grit my teeth. “When I get out of here… I’m going to kill you.”

I think of the coffins my parents were placed into just weeks ago, feeling stupid in this moment for not paying more attention. I’m pretty sure they had hinges though, on one side that made the lid lift open. If I can just find the right angle, and the right side, I might be able to open it enough to stick my arm out.

“You’ll have to get out first, Little Rabbit.” A voice breaks through my mind, halting all thoughts. I bang my fists on the lid once in defiance, but then laughter rings out all around me – manic laughter that makes goosebumps spread across every inch of my body.

There’s banging on the outside of the coffin then, pulling a scream of surprise from my throat just before they start shaking the coffin from side to side.

I scream over and over as I try to hold myself in place, but there’s nothing to grab on to, I just slam into the sides like a fucking bouncing ball. They continue laughing, louder and louder, as they torment me.

I scream again, spreading my arms as far as they’ll go and locking my elbows to hold myself in place.

“Your screams are so pretty, Little Rabbit.” One of the voices laughs.

“Fuck you!” I scream, banging my fists against the wood all around me, not caring that I’m scratching up my skin. “Fuck. You!”

The coffin spins around – fast. Like a fucking amusement ride, it makes me dizzy, but after a moment, it just freezes again.

With the way they’re able to spin it around, I bet it’s on one of those wheeling tables like they have in morgues and funeral homes. If I can get the box to tip over, it may break when it makes the landing on the floor. I’ll probably get hurt, maybe even impaled by broken wood, but I’ve got to try something, right?

The laughter and banging stop, and silence cloaks the room again, making me breathe heavily in relief. I count my heartbeats in my head until I reach 100, then I start moving. From side to side, trying to get the leverage to tip the box over and onto the ground.

I put every ounce of strength I have left into rocking the coffin. Side to side. Side to side. Side to side. Until I finally feel it lift up an inch and a smile snakes across my face.

This is going to hurt like a bitch.

I keep going, rocking back and forth until, finally, the coffin flips. I brace myself for impact, wrapping my arms around my head for protection just as the coffin slams on the ground, cracking and snapping to pieces.

Stars skate across my vision from the fall, and I feel blood dripping from my hairline. There’s a giant break in the wood right by my face, so I reposition myself to peek through it to see what’s waiting for me on the other side.

A man in a mask is standing about three feet from me, the large X’s sewn over his eyes, making me suck down oxygen in fear.

He laughs, rubbing his palms together.

“Welcome to the Hallows Games, Sage Lindman.”

ChapterSixteen

SAGE

“Are you fuckingkiddingme?!” I scream, punching my fist through the broken wood as the Hallows Boy before me turns and walks away, slamming a door behind him.

“You motherfuckers!”

Anger pumps through me as I punch through the wood again, finally breaking a big enough gap that I can crawl through. I ignore the sting of the wood scraping at my skin as I do, just pushing my body through like a snake to get free from the broken pieces of the coffin.

As I climb to my feet, my head spins from adrenaline and anxiety, making me rest a hand on the dirty wall to hold myself upright. I’m going to fucking kill someone – anger, fury, rage, and everything in between rushes through me, giving me the urge to come up with an escape plan.

I look around the dark room, trying to figure out where I am, but there’re no signs or markers that give away what this place is. The entire room is bare and empty, apart from the broken bits of the coffin and the table it was once atop. I spot a window though, on the opposite wall. I rush to it, hoping I’ll be able to climb through and out.

It takes a minute for me to get the window slid open, and when I do, it only budges about three inches. It’s rusted and crusting, like it hasn’t been opened in a really long time.

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