CONTENT WARNINGS:
Physical Disability (Chronic Pain)
Phobias: Loud Noises, Being Watched (Scopophobia), Claustrophobia, Mirrors/Reflections
Intrusive/Anxious Thoughts
Maturity: 18+
"Okay," I whisper. Colton helps me up and runs to another room. The cat walks to me, rubbing against my right leg where my injury is.
"Okay, Matthan, here is your kit. We don't have time on our side anymore," Colton says in an unfamiliar tone. I limp faster, following the cat to the back room.
"Rule 1: The Store Flip. Everything you know is different. The daytime is horror, but the nighttime is a living nightmare. Rule 8: Don't let anything come in through the vents," he says as he locks the door. "Rule 12: If you find you're in Aisle 4, walk counter-clockwise, because Aisle 4 doesn't exist."
I feel so unsafe, but I start to help him lock up.
"Rule 10: Don't listen to the whispers. Rule 11: Don't let the shadows touch you. And Rule 6: No leaving after sunset."
He hits a blue button, and old, rusted shutters slam down loudly. I jump at the noise. He grabs my shoulder, forcing me to look at him. "Rule 9: Never let the generator go out. And Rule 13: The Hitch—if it comes, you don't stop looking at it. You understand me?"
"Okay," I whisper.
The store is becoming a nightmare. Shivers go down my spine as the cold hits me.
"Oh yeah, Rule 4: The 8 PM Meeting. You must go, no matter what. Look, little one, this is the real Store 9. The Devil."
It's so dark now, with smog everywhere. The lights turn red and flicker. In my kit, there is a spray and a heavy flashlight. The spray has doppelgänger writing on it. "It hurts the mimics in the vents and the creatures," he explains. This is a whole other level of fear.
I limp to the back room and see the cat sitting on the counter. He’s hungry. I struggle with a tuna can and set it down. His eyes don't look normal. He purrs—an odd, heavy sound.
"Looks like Bane likes you," Colton says.
"Maybe," I whisper. I can't believe I spoke; my select mutism wasn't stopping me. Colton laughs softly. "He definitely does. I don't blame him."
I feel myself blushing.
"They say black cats are bad omens," I say.
"Well," he replies, "this whole world is."
I nod. The entire world is a bad omen.
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