Deception (on hold)

Prologue

The cellphone vibrated on the glass table, and an unknown number suddenly popped out of the shiny screen. The phone moved sideways, slid to the right edge of the glass and was already close to falling onto the ground.

He, however, sat at a red, plump and vintage-like sofa where he was near the phone that echoed in the less illuminated room. The shade covered half of his body. His broad figure looked gloomy from behind, with both of his hands clutching each other and controlling the shiver that crept out of his own skin.

The room could have been dark as an endless pit if it was not just with the half-open window on his far side, making way for the faint light of the sun to strike directly on the dusty carpet and the uncleaned floor.

He sighed softy, but his voice hinted some fear and hestitation underneath. He stared at his phone as it moved towards the end of the table. He looked at the screen again, and saw the same unknown number on the big screen.

He trembled. His mouth gaped with the continuing vibration of the phone, anxious for it to stop now and to leave him alone. But the phone didn't. Instead, it vibrated once more, making him more jittery and silently shrieking in his own seat.

He stretched his hands now and grabbed the top of his phone. He paused, tapped at the screen and moved it towards his ear and waited for the unknown caller to say something.

“Don't make me do something that you don't want me to do,” a cold and low voice crept into his ears, making his whole body freeze in his seat.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up slowly. His throat dried instantly from the cold sensation, making it hard for him to swallow or answer.

“If you can just give me more time . . . please, “ he pleaded. His voice broke from the stressed vocal chords in his throat.

“We gave you enough time, now do what you have to do!” the caller shouted and banged on something hard.

“I can't! Please, I just can't do this anymore,” he cried. His sweaty hands sliced at the humid air of the room.

“It's your call, but then prepare yourself when I get there tomorrow. I might just enjoy killing you slowly,” the caller laughed. His low voice drowning him with anxiety.

"That. . . would also be very satisfying to me," the caller added.

He paced up and down. His feet echoed on the floor and tapped it when he went back to his seat.

“Please, just give me one more chance. Tomorrow, I'll make sure I can start with the dare," he said, and assured both himself and caller that he'd do it.

He waited for the caller to respond. There was no voice on the next line, not even something that can tell him if the caller was still there. Then, he heard a smooth breathing, like someone inhaled an amount of oxygenated air to his nostrils.

“Then tomorrow it is, and that's final. I will know if you didn't do it, and you know what'll happen next,” the caller said.

He shrugged and placed his free hand to his forehead, massaging it in circles. 

“Yes, I'll do it,” he answered back. He raised his voice and controlled it to hide his fear.

“Hmm, you're making me feel excited. I always love boys just like that," the caller answered again.

Don't be. He thought and stood in his chair. He turned towards the back of the red sofa and faced the half-open window.

“I'll give you the news after,” he said. His voice started to break again.

“Of course. And oh, yes, before I forget, Happy Birthday m'boy," the caller greeted with clear malice and chuckled in the gloomiest way.

“Uhh, I don't know what to say,” he politely said.

"You don't need to answer anything. Just do your job," the caller said and the final beep sounded after.

He looked at the lighted carpet and gulped an amount of saliva. His forehead is damped with big sweats and his neck felt very hot.

He placed both of his hands in his head and grabbed a handful of hair. He tried to control his sobs and the frequent trembling of his legs that rested on the floor. However, the cold feeling inside of him intervened and his mind wandered around the emptiness. His bright ideas seem to fade away. He never thought his brain could betray him in times like these. He wanted to black out. He really wanted to, especially now.

What have I done? Why do I need to suffer in this burden? 

Then, he walked towards the end of the room and felt the doorknob from the cold and dark walls. He gripped the spherical metal knob and turned it in. The moment his foot moved towards the door, his phone vibrated again, making his hands shook from surprise.

Holy shit.

He looked at the screen and saw the same unknown number. Now, he felt the cold grow much deeper in his gut, but he gulped again and held onto the last of his control with all of his will. He tapped at the Inbox, and opened the message.

Let's play Spin the bottle again, alright? After you can accomplish this dare smoothly.

- Gamemaker

He gasped and turned it away. It was heartbreaking, and now he felt that the game was purely evil and inevitable. He bore a curse, a curse that could go far in a lifetime.