I wakewith a throb between my thighs, something hard and bony in my back, and my oxygen intake so low my chest hurts. I stretch my limbs, only to be met with velvet stopping me from extended my arms and legs. Turning my head, I see a small slither of light. I reach above me, pushing on the heavy velvet until the small crack of light grows bigger. I grunt as I push harder, finally having enough room for my hands and arms to slip through the cracks. Pushing with both hands, the door finally snaps open, and I crawl out, coughing. My knees hit stone and I push my hair out of my face to get a better look. The room is small, incased in stone. A small stained-glass window sits over the wooden door.
What the fuck is this place?
I rise, spinning to get a good look at where I am. My body turns cold, blood visibly draining from my face as I look at the box I just crawled out of. Not a box, a coffin. With a skeleton inside with old clothes ripping at the seams. Bile climbs up my throat and instead of pushing it back, I throw up. My body wretches as I empty everything in my stomach, shaking as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
Walking over to the casket, I close my eyes as I lower the lid back over the body.
It’s bad juju to mess with a person’s resting place and here I’ve been literally sleeping in one. I open my eyes, a black envelope taped to the top of the lid snagging my attention, and I slowly reach for it. My hand grips the smooth paper, opening to bring out a black stock card, a message written in white.
The final test is not hard you see, you only have to find a way out before the sun meets the trees.
I frown at the stupid rhyme. Looking over to the door, I push on it, but it doesn’t budge. There is no handle to twist, leading me to believe it’s locked from the outside. Spinning back around, I’m met with a solid stone wall and a casket. The window above the door is my best bet, but it’s so far up, I can’t reach it.
Why a fucking mausoleum? Out of all places to make me escape from, why does it have to be someone’s final resting place? It’s so disrespectful to the dead.
Groaning, I walk over to the heavy casket. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper as I get behind it. The thing weighs a ton. But I push with all my strength, and it moves an inch and then another until it’s falling to the floor, the old wood splitting. I gasp as the head of the skull rolls out of the casket. A frustrated scream tears from my throat as I look at my broken escape route.
Now what, Brixley?
The bottom half of the casket is still whole, so I push it to the door, my nails rip in the wood as I hoist it up longways. Sliding down the wall, I catch my breath. Looking at the broken wood, the shattered skeleton, I tilt my head. With one last deep breath and a thousand curses thrown at The Misfits, I rise to my feet. Gathering up the broken wood, I begin making a platform at the bottom of the casket to give me some height to jump up. Looking out the window, I realize the sun is far lower than I thought it was. I have no idea how long I was out, but it had to be most of the day. I put down a long piece of wood next to the wall by the casket and with a sigh, I jump. Using my upper body strength, I pull my body up the narrow top. I hear a crack and look down to see the casket splintering.Fuck.Grabbing the piece of wood I propped against the wall, I hit the glass. It cracks, so I hit it over and over again until it shatters, leaving jarred sharp glass around the base. Taking my hoodie off, I wrap it around my fist, smashing the jagged pieces out. The wood shakes under me and right as I grab ahold of the window frame, the casket crumbles under me, causing my body to smack into the stone wall, my feet pounding into the door. My body aches and shakes, but I don’t give up. With a tiny growl, I pull myself over the panel, and my lungs take in the fresh air as I lay with half my body out of the window. Looking down, I realize no matter what, this fall is going to hurt.
Balancing my feet on the stone wall, I push my body out of the window, landing hard on the grass. I hear claps and Prim laughing happily. Looking up I see her. Her clothes are covered in dirt and ripped in some places. Her face is caked in mud, hair a mess of dingy white.
“Welcome to The Misfits, Brixley Archer.”
Looking up to Beckett, I whisper, “I’m going to kill you.”
18
Brixley
I lookaround my upgraded room in The Misfits’ home. The room is three times the size as mine at the dorm. The closet is huge, and you can walk inside of it.Walk inside of it.I’ve never had that. The bed is massive and as comfortable as Beckett’s, but also, it’s in the same boring colors. I like black like the next person, but I want color. I’m thinking red. I walk over to the door that leads to the bathroom. My smile falls as I spot Beckett in nothing but a towel, his back muscles flexing as he leans over the sink, brushing his teeth. His wet hair lays over his eyes.
He spots me in the mirror, eyebrows raising. “Why are you in my bathroom?” I ask, confused.
He rinses his mouth out before turning to face me. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the counter as if he isn’t half naked. “It’s also my bathroom.”
I make a face at him. “Of course, it is. I’m locking the door when I take a shower.”
“I have a key.” He grins.
Huffing, I turn to leave, slamming the door. “You can’t stay mad at me forever, Rabbit,” he yells through the closed door.
“I’m petty and hold a mean grudge, watch me,” I yell back, swiping my purse off the bed and banging on Amiyah’s and Prim’s doors. They open at the same time, smiling. “You guys up for some shopping?” I ask.
They grin. “Always,” Amiyah says, shutting off her light.
“I, uh. I have to sneak someone out really quick,” Prim whispers.
I raise an eyebrow. “A boy?”
She worries her lip, nodding slightly. The boy from the class we share, the same boy Vance scared the other day, peeks over Prim’s shoulder, waving. “Hi.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I sigh.
Amiyah laughs and holds up her hand. “It can’t be me, Madden will flip.”
“But he’s your brother,” I deadpan.