The whole room was dark, harsh breathing was mixed with whimpers of the muffled captives. There was a bar, maybe a cuff, that covered their mouths. No talking, no screaming. Only the harsh breaths of fear. They weren't sure how they got there, nor remember anything. It felt like hell. They were chained, cold, and left in the dark with no sign of being let out. That is until a sign on the iron wall lit up at the same time as the cuffs around their chapped lips opened.
They all started frantically jumbling words together, one quoting bibles verses, one speaking an foreign language, one begging release from the 'prison'. The sign went blank and they quickly shut their mouths. The overhead lights turned on.
There were six of them. All pressed against the opposite wall of the sign. Everything was metal. It looked like they were trapped in a factory. They all stared at each other. One was a priest, another a female wearing a doctors coat, a male in a engineer suit, another female in casual attire, another a teenage male, and lastly a punk-rocker male.
“For the wages of sin is Death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ.” The Priest stated, his eyes glaring at the sign.
“P-Please. I have a kid, I'm a single mother! D-Don't do this to me.” The woman in casual attire pleaded, crying harshly.
The Punk started talking in another language which the nurse understood. She started saying the same in English. “This i-isn't right.”
She continued, “Those who put us through this torture are sick and twisted!”
The engineer was coughing in the middle of his sentence, “This is horrib-”
The sign turned off. They each went silent, but only had to start talking about five seconds later.
“I cannot believe this,” The casual wailed, “Let us go!”
The engineer coughed harder, seeing his time coming to end as a panel lifted in the wall.
“No, h-he's coughing! He can't help it-”
A flat surfaced pillar shot from the wall, crushing the engineer's head, blood spraying to the nurse next to him. The sign dimmed. The nursed swallowed, blood in her hair, face and on her jacket. The priest closed his eyes, “Holy Lord..”
The panel opened in front of the Priest. “You shall pay for your-” He wasn't able to finish his sentence before he got his head smashed. The only thing good about this? Your death is painless.
The Punk seemed a bit relieved about the death. At least he didn't have to listen to his religious testimonies, but quite frankly.. That was the least of all their problems.
The sign lit. TALK.
The teenager rambled, staring at the nurse, “I'm still a virgin, I'm still a virgin, I'm still a-”
The teen met the same fate as the other two males. Blood painted the wall. The women and the punk were all still talking. The punk started talking in English.
“All I wanted to do is go to The Misfits concert! Please let us go! I beg you!” He screamed at the sign, overpowering the women's shaky voices. The casualty was growing weak in her words. She was becoming more quiet, her voice draining.
The sign dimmed.
The Punk comforted the two woman for a few minutes, In silence of course, just by the nod of his head and the secret mouthing of simple 'It's okay'. The nurse rocked on her heels as much as she could, panting. All the blood has matted in her hair at this point, making the brown locks stick together.
The sign lit. SILENCE.
The nurse started to talk, but realized her mishap. “NO!” She got painted with the others. She didn't have to worry about her hair anymore. Or the way her makeup looked.
The sign changed. LAUGH.
The two left started laughing at nothing, trying to satisfy the sign. It wasn't a sign to them. That was their god. That was what they needed to do. Bow. Bow so they could walk out alive. If they could walk out alive at this point.
The casualty lost her breath. She lost the game. She looked up at the Punk. “Tell Emily that I love her.” The punk frantically laughed, his eyes going a bit sad as the woman next to him got smashed just like the others.
The sign dimmed.
The punk leaned his head against the wall, blinking some blood from his eye. He knew his end was near. He started to wonder if they saw light flashing before their eyes, or Death taking them to their afterlife. He looked at the sign and grunted.
The sign lit. TALK.
“I know you can understand me, so I'll tell you my story before you kill me.” He gasped, “My name is James Matthews and I'm 25 years old. I used to live in Germany with my two sets of parents. I don't know who my biological parents are and I never will. I'm a piano player and a song writer. I write music for a living.” He sighed, “I'm not anything special. Please kill me.”
The sign dimmed. James' cuffs came unlatched. He was able to move, but there was no door. He stepped to the middle of the room. The sign lit. SUICIDE.
James' eyes widened at the gun that fell from the wall. No.. No. He wasn't gonna do it. He couldn't. He backed away from the gun. “I said YOU kill me!” He gave a low growl.
The sign changed. THIS IS THE WAY YOU LEAVE.
James started to panic, shaking his head. “Do it for me.”
The sign dimmed. Little did James know, that was the last thing he'd read. He paced around for about two hours, trying to get something from the sign. He finally gave up. He picked up the gun in a tired manner, looking at the sign, first. “If I die..You die with me.”
He cocked the gun and shot the sign as many times as he needed to. The sign was shattered. It sparked randomly. James took the gun and sighed, “Maybe that Priest wasn't so crazy after all.”