I'm Still Seeing Dead People

Chapter Four: Confrontation

A/N: I can now play the Halloween theme on my acoustic guitar. I have also finally named my acoustic guitar. I love my guitar very much, it's a very nice guitar. 'Oh, but, Metalmankayden, what did you name your beloved acoustic guitar?' Well, I'll tell you. Get ready for this: Shreddy Krueger. 

"Because I love you, okay!?"

_____________________________

"You... you what?" You asked, your voice barely above a (very shaky) whisper.

You knew Billy had facepalmed hard inside. Obviously, he didn't mean to say that. 

"Yeah. I-I love you." He rubbed the back of his neck before stomping out of the basement. You didn't know who he was more mad with, you or himself. 

Thank God that Billy didn't professionally kidnap people, because he made a beautiful assortment of mistakes. First, he didn't chain you to anything. Secondly, he didn't take anything out of the pockets on your dress. You still had your phone on you. Finally, he didn't lock the cell. However, you did hear him lock the basement door. 

You sat on the floor, wallowing in your emotions for a while. You were flustered, upset, your hair hurt, and you felt betrayed. They promised. They all promised that they wouldn't follow you. None of this would have happened if you hadn't decided that you had some weird, asexual (possibly aeromantic) Stockholm Syndrome. In a sick, twisted way, you wished that you had just let your Pazoozoo-controlled friend knock you into that fissure. 

After sobbing for a few minutes, you pulled yourself together and opened your phone. You called Jeff. 

"What?" 

"I need you to unlock the basement." 

"No." 

And then he hung up. 

Why didn't you see that coming? He's a psychopathic, sociopathic, duckwad. 

A/N: Don't ask about that insult. The best insults are so stupid that they'll stun the insulted into silence. 

You called Elliott next. He didn't answer. Neither did Charles, Tiffany, Jed, Jason, Norman, Freddy, or Pennywise. Smile and Glen were off the table for obvious reasons. All that was left was Michael. 

Hesitantly, you brought the phone up to your ear and waited. 

A grunt came from the other end, signaling that Michael was there. 

"Hi, um, I need you to unlock the basement." 

Michael hung up. You sighed. Well, now you really won't be getting out of here. The though continuous ran rings around your sad brain before you heard the basement door creak open. 

"Thank you!" You called nasally up to the unlocker of the door, who was presumably Michael. 

There were rapid, light footsteps down the stairs instead of a response. A bright-haired boy raced down to you and threw open the cell door. 

"Y/N, are you alright?" Glen asked, wrapping his arms around you. 

"I will be." You mumbled, hugging the boy back. 

"Can I do anything?" He offered. "Tea? Bath? Bed?" 

"Tea would be great. And do me a favor, too. Tell Billy I want to talk. I bet you he's in the kitchen." You tried to smile, but it was wimpy. 

Glen stood up from the self-pity puddle and offered you his hand. You gladly took it and walked upstairs with the child. Michael was watching with concern from the top of the door. How could you tell he was concerned? He had his hand in his pocket and you could see it was gripping his knife.