Seven Minutes In Hell


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I was tricked, I realized, as I sat in the dark closet, leaning against the doors that wouldn’t budge no matter how hard I pushed. I’d been stupid, and this was my punishment. Playing Seven Minutes in Heaven had sounded like a good idea at the time: I had no real reason to suspect they’d lock me in here alone, but in retrospect, I should have known better. I wasn’t a popular kid, but I thought I was good enough at flying under the radar to avoid getting viciously bullied up until that point. Heck, I couldn’t even say there was anything overly malicious about what they’d done. It was kind of my fault: I made the mistake of taking a bathroom break near the end of a round, giving them a prime opportunity to play a little prank on me.

Yeah, now that I think about it, it really was my fault. They had no idea what was going to happen when Trevor, our host, playfully shoved me in the closet, telling me ‘she’ was waiting for me. I hadn’t even had time to see who was missing from the room to know whose lips I’d be kissing before the world went dark. I believed there was someone there with me, up until the moment I reached out and swiped my arm around, meeting nothing but thin air and curtains of fabric hanging above. I could hear my classmates snickering on the other side of the door.

“Real funny,” I grumbled, giving the door a firm knock, “c’mon, let me out.”

I heard fakes kissing sounds as a response.

Seven minutes. I was going to have to last seven minutes alone in the dark. Maybe more if they decided my torment was fun enough to continue longer. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had had my phone on me, but we’d used them to select the couples. We’d put all our phones on a lazy Susan, spun them around, and picked two out at random. Whoever the phones belonged to, girl or guy, had to get locked up together. With no light and nothing to use for entertainment, I sat there quietly and sighed.

It took a minute or two for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and when they did, I spotted what looked like someone sitting in the far corner, behind all the coats hanging there. Even then, I wasn’t entirely sure it was a person – the silhouette could have been a vacuum cleaner, for all I knew – until I saw two gleaming eyes staring back at me.

Insert mini heart-attack here.

“Oh, shit! You scared me!” I said, laughing with equal parts stress and relief. “I’m glad I’m not alone. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Not alone,” she repeated.

Her voice was soft, sensual, and deep. Kind of like a really sexy piano teacher or a nurse. Who did it belong to, though? Katie? Anna? Crystal? Nah, they all sounded younger. I ran through the names and faces of the other party guests, but none of the voices matched the one I heard.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Who are you?” she asked back.

“Curtis,” I replied, “Are you in our class?”

“Curtis,” she whispered.

The way she pronounced my name made me break out into goosebumps. It was so sexy, so sensual… She was like a female version of this one guy in this horror podcast I really dig. I can’t remember his name, though. Peter –something–, I think? She had that same, soft, breathy tone to her. A tone that made me weak in the knees and grateful for being locked in there. Maybe she was a butterface, but she didn’t sound like one. She sounded like an angel.

“Wanna make out?” I asked her bluntly.

There was something about her that made me come out of my shell. And, besides, that’s why we were in here, wasn’t it?

“Make out,” she practically moaned.

I could hear her shuffling, her eyes staring me down like a cat in the night. Even as emboldened by the darkness as I felt, I didn’t make a move towards her. I sat with my back against the wall, watching her silhouette crawling closer and closer to me. I’d never kissed a girl before, but if there was ever a time to do so, it was now.

She put a cold hand on my arm and leaned in close to my ear, whispering, “Curtisssssss.”

I could feel her breath against my skin. It was hot and humid like a summer day without a breeze. Her fingers squeezed my forearm tightly. Something rough like sandpaper brushed against my cheek and down towards my lips.

“Make out,” she demanded.

Who was I to say no?

I closed my eyes and turned my head to meet her lips. They were coarse and dry, but I didn’t care. The kiss was amazing regardless. A great ‘first time’, you know? And since I couldn’t see her face, I could imagine whoever I wanted in her place. Melissa, three seats diagonally from me in Science class. That’s the face I imagined sucking mine at that moment.

But then, there was noise outside the door. Whatever they’d put in front of them to lock me in was being removed. Not yet, I thought. Things were just getting juicy. I could tell whoever was in there with me felt the same way, because her grip on my arm tightened even more. It was painful now, like my pissed-off mom trying to drag me away from a mess. But, before I even had time to demand she let me go, the doors opened and light came flooding in.

“What the hell are you doing, freak?” asked Trevor.

The pressure against my arm was gone, I had my tongue out, and was leaning over thin air. I would have died of embarrassment, if I hadn’t been so terrified. Because, you see, in the split second before the doors fully opened and my mysterious make-out partner disappeared, I caught a glimpse of what she looked like. Grey skin. Sunken eyes. Bony. Hair barely clutching to small patches of flesh on her skull. There was nothing sexy about her.

I tried to explain what happened, but they didn’t believe me. I couldn’t really blame them, because all they’d seen was an empty closet. I might have been forever labelled some weirdo freak, if not for one thing: the bright red handprint on my forearm.

Well, two things.

The fact that Trevor went in after me to prove it was ‘no big deal’, and never came back out.


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nightdaddy

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