The Manipulation Room

Chapter 24 - Terrified

Manipulation Room victim no. 477378
Name: Pascal Alethia 
Age: 51 years old
Occupation: Ex-soldier 
Family Member: 50-year-old husband, Gideon 
Description: A large hammer smashed against the victim's head results in a broken skull and instant death. 

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I saw the stone-cold, hard floor long before my body crashed into it. I narrowly missed a flail, and I laid stunned as it sat a foot or so away from my face. My whole body ached with pain as I fell onto the rocklike, solid ground. When I sat up there were seven knives, each one bigger than the last, lying at my feet.

I was shaking with fear, confused and at loss for words. One minute I was screaming at the top of my lungs and looking for Ezra, the next I was falling and falling, and now I was here. My legs ached with the impact of the fall and my head hurt with fear and confusions. I still had only one thing on my mind. Ezra. I looked around rapidly, searching for signs of him. The only thing that would calm down my beating heart was seeing him, safe and well. "Ezra? Ezra?!" I called, searching for a light in the darkness. I heard movement but had no idea who it was. My fear amplified and I couldn't stop shaking as I trembly spoke, "Ezra...is that you?"

Suddenly, a match was lit and the light from the flame spread around the room, increasing my line of sight. I saw the sharpness of his chiselled jawline and his acute cheekbones, lit up by the flame he held, before I could even see his eyes. Ezra. His cobalt eyes caught mine and his entire face flood with relief. He lit a nearby candle with the match and stamped the match on the ground. It was so good to see him that I practically pounced onto him as I fell into his arms. "Oh my God, I thought I lost you." I cried, shaking as he held me in his arms. "So did I...but we're both here. Thank God, we're both here." He exhaled, kissing me on the cheek.

He looked around, "Is this...?"
It certainly looked like it. The Manipulation Room. It was a strange sort of room. The room was a hollow cube of concrete, no doors, no windows. In there you could have no idea how much time had passed or even if it was night or day. It was totally disorientating by design. No sound, no light except from a candle that Ezra had just lit, no furniture, just weapons. Loads of them.

There were so many knives that you had to be careful where you stepped. There were so many different types that I didn't even know existed. Long knives, thick knives, thin knives, minute knives that looked just as deadly. There was a flail, huge and metallic, and even with no one wielding it, I was terrified of it. There were swords, like the types of weapons you'd imagine brave knights from fairy tales wielding. Bronze or gold handles, the blade itself shone with no light to make it that way.

There were different types of firearms, all adorning one side of the room. Submachine guns, assault rifles, muskets, automatic revolvers and battle rifles. Lines of bullets hanging from the walls like decoration. There were tiny glass vials of liquid with skulls painted on them, all hanging from the ceiling in small pouches. There were cans and tanks presumably filled with toxic gases, more skulls painted on the outsides with DANGER, TOXIC GAS written on the outside.

There were bottles of acid lying along the ground. Hammers lie next to them, some metal and some wood but all just as likely to cause injury or death if used properly. There were chains, belts and scarves; presumably for strangling someone, not for wearing.

I almost folded in on myself with fear, "The Manipulation Room...oh my God, we're actually here." I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth. I was almost paralysed with fear as I looked around. The air had been literally and metaphorically knocked out of me.

Ezra held a vial of poison and narrowed his eyebrows at it, "Bloody hell." He gasped, also at loss for words. I knelt down, glancing at the line of knives. One of these was used to kill my father. One of these knives was the cause of his death. "You okay?" Ezra asked behind me. Words left me. I stared at the line of sickeningly clean knives and my heart fell silent. I couldn't will my lips to move. As if stuck underwater, everything was so slow and warbled. My mind was blank and my eyes wide as I stared at Ezra in horror. His eyes desperately searched mine...waiting.

I had to say something. "One of...one of these was..." My voice failed me again and I fell silent, still paralysed with shock and horror. Ezra sighed deeply; I could see that his hand was shaking too. It was a gentle tremble but it was there. "I know..." He whispered, looking around with disgust.

"There aren't any doors." He stated finally, running his hands along the hard, stone walls. I stood up and looked around, "Yeah...it doesn't make sense. When they show it on the screens...there are doors. We don't see them fall from the ceiling, like we did." I replied, gently inspecting the guns and pistols along the wall. He groaned, "It doesn't make sense. Something seems...off."

I nodded, "You're right. There's got to be some kind of catch. This can't be it."
Ezra dropped his head in his hands, "Lyric, I don't want to freak you out but..."
"Go on." I murmured, my heart beating at 500 miles per hour. His bright blue eyes stared into mine, "There's no way out. We're trapped." He whispered.

That was a fact that really should have been obvious but really wasn't. I was too busy freaking out to even think about how we were going to get out. I was too busying wondering how we even got in in the first place. But he was right. We really were trapped and that only made me ten times more petrified.

We weren't simply trapped; we were trapped in the Manipulation Room. The deadliest room to ever exist on this planet. The type of room children have nightmares about. The type of room that the older kids tell the younger ones as part of some cruel joke. I felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in my abdomen. Tension grew in my face and limbs, my mind searching rapidly for a solution. My breathing became more rapid, shallower. The thoughts accelerated inside my head. My heart hammered inside my chest like a thousand drums beating entirely out of sync to one another.

Ezra practically ran to my side, wrapping me in a protective hug. "Lyric, hey, it's okay, it's okay. I'm here. I promise I won't let anything happen to you. I promise. Lyric, hey, breath." He pulled me into his chest and I sobbed quietly into his fleece vest, breathing in the cologne his Mum probably made him wear for our 'date'. And some date it was too. This was certainly memorable.

Ezra had rolled his sleeves back down and he wiped the tears of my cheeks with the corner of his sleeves, deep concern in his eyes. He was biting the tip of his tongue, a habit he normally only did when he was deeply concentrated. I exhaled deeply, resting my cheek on his chest, my eyes half-closed. When I had partially composed myself, I lifted my head and looked around. "Do you remember how Mr Allen-Blue was killed?" I queried, touching the tip of one of the spikes on the flail. Ezra cleared his throat, "Scissors, right?"

"Scissors." I repeated. "There are no scissors in this room."
Ezra stood up and looked around, "You're right." He gasped. I brushed my hands together and cleared my throat, "Look, this is a bit of a stretch but no one who leaves the Manipulation Room remembers killing anyone. Right?" I began. Ezra studied one of the gas cans, his eyebrows raised and his eyes intent. "My mum never even remembered killing Dad...we just assumed, because I'd seen it happen with my own eyes, that she did." He whispered, his eyes widening as he turned to face me.

"What if...it's all a distorted video or a figment of our imaginations? What if...no one dies in this room?" I gasped, my eyes glued to his and his to mine. Both our mouths hung open with the sudden realisation. It was a bit of a stretch. Something so daft that no one would ever even begin to think about it; but it made sense. It made a lot of sense, especially now that we were here. We had the evidence, so now the idea didn't seem so stupid. The thought that Papa could still be alive etched away at all reason.

Suddenly, there was a clapping sound that echoed around the small, compact room. We both turned to the source of noise and saw that one of the walls had opened up entirely. It hadn't been like that before. With only one candle to provide light, I hadn't even seen it open up.

Standing at the wall, clapping loudly and rhythmically, was Thanatos. He was staring intently at us, an evil and satisfied smile on his face. "How smart you both are!" He exclaimed, still clapping in a way that was sinister and uncomforting.