A dare a day (chapter eight)

My blackmailer and now kidnapper sat across from me in a small dark room, staring at me with an expression I could not decipher. I had gotten a text from Zik, telling me to walk to the end of my street, I thought it was another stupid dare so I followed. While waiting by the side of the road a huge, scary-looking man walked up to me and directed me towards a car then forced me in and blindfolded me. I cried and screamed for help but it was like the car was soundproof because no one heard; I begged for them to at least tell me where they were taking me to, but it all fell on deaf ears so I just sat in my misery.

It felt like forever before we got to the destination, the same scary man took me to the room that I am now in, put me in a chair, and removed my blindfold that was when I saw him, Zik, I didn’t need anyone to tell me he was the one behind the dares and blackmail, I just knew it was him.

“I’m Zik,” he said after staring at me for what felt like an hour so I would be uncomfortable.

“I figured,” I said. “But what I haven’t figured is who you are and what you want with me.”

“I’m impressed. The last girl that sat there was too afraid to even speak,” he said, smiling mischievously.

“What last girl?” I asked, even though I knew the answer already.

“I don’t keep a record, but I heard she committed suicide not too long ago,” he said, looking me straight in the eye.

“It was you,” I said. “You made them kill themselves.”

“Well…”

“How? What did they ever do to you?”

“I think the question should be what did they do to me, what did you do to me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Thirteenth of February, does the date ring a bell?”

“Should it?”

“Well, considering it was the day your friend died, it should.”

“What?”

“You seem a bit confused, allow me to refresh your memory with a question,” he said and moved his body closer. “Why did you and your friends drift apart?” he asked and I froze, he smiled. That was the reaction he had hoped for.

We used to be five best friends until one of us, Vivian, died; she killed herself and it may have been our fault. The day before she died we were all in our classroom with a teacher. He stepped out and one of us suggested we searched his briefcase for fun; we did and when he came back; he noticed that someone had tampered with his briefcase and since it was in front of us; we were suspects. He was a friendly teacher, loved by every student and he joked a lot so we thought we could joke our way out of the situation, but unlike us, he wasn’t finding it funny. After he threatened to take us to the principal, we started pointing fingers then we blamed it all on Vivian. He told her to come after school for her punishment.  She begged us to tell him it was not her idea but we said nothing, she stood up angrily and stomped out of the class, that was the last we saw of her.

“It was a stupid joke,” I admitted, burning in guilt.

“Oh no, your stupid joke wasn’t the reason she killed herself, but it played a major part in it,” he said. “She called to cry to me, not about the punishment but about how betrayed she felt, I told her to come straight home after the punishment so I could cheer her up with a bowl of ice cream, you know she loved ice cream.”

“I did but how did you know, who are you to her?”

With a proud smile on his face, he said, “Her brother.”

“I’m sorry for what happened?”

“Let me finish,” he said in a stern voice and I jerked up in my seat. “I waited till almost dark but she never came home so I drove to your school, then went straight to her class and there she was I saw her covered in her blood, I see that image every day.” He used the back of his right hand to clean his tears and I did too, then he continued. “She stabbed herself multiple times with a pen until she bled to death.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Do you know what they said?” he asked, and I shook my head. “They said she was mentally unstable, did you think she was?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, I thought so too until I found out someone had raped her,,” he said and I widened my eyes in surprise. “Different teachers and their different ideas on punishment.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t, the school made sure of that. A few months later everything was back to normal like Vivian never existed, forgotten.” He said, his eyes filled with sadness. “I passed by that teacher’s house and I saw him would his beautiful children, alive and happy but not for long, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that right after I’m done with you, the last of the girls, I’ll make sure that shameless teacher wishes he was never born.”

“Done with me?” I asked, fear clear in my eyes.

He put his hand under the table and brought out five cards, then spread them on the table.

“Pick your death,” he said.

By kamsiii

Ghost writer, freelance writer.

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