STRONG. I was strong enough to keep those promises. I didn't have Tini, but she was here, and hopefully, she could help me think of a way out of this. 

What's your real plan to get us out of this? Get naked. You were serious? If it's a boy, maybe they'll be distracted by your boobs enough for you to run away. Really? You think I'm that pathetic? I mean you're good for your brain... not much else. Fine, teach me how to fight like you then. In two minutes? That's like teaching an elderly nun to relax during anal. Not going to happen.

Fine. Can you be Dumbledore and give me some sage advice? Harry should've gotten with Hermione instead of Ginny, but he's too dense and shallow to realize it. Fuck off! Sorry. Her and Ron were meant for divorce court and marriage boot camp.

You suck at giving advice. Well when you're almost flawless, you don't need to give advice. People just need to bask in my glow, and their lives will be better. Is your ego really that big? Remember this, if I die, you die. So, if we die, you'll never see you precious Sebbie again. This is true. Come on—are you serious? You're going to help me because you want to get to Seb? I was clearly joking. Yes, I like Sebbie, but my life doesn't revolve around him. I don't understand my draw to him though — it's weird. Like —

"You're talking to your alters, aren't you?"

A creepy humorous glow colored each word.

I froze. How did they know about us?

"That's why you're so quiet."

A laugh lit the air, as footsteps crunched closer, but still out of view.

Okay. I analyzed the situation enough to think of something. What? They're stupid.
What the hell does that have to do with anything? Well, if they wanted to just murder us they'd have tried to already. It's been what — fifteen minutes now? They want to mess with us first, which gives us time to do my plan. What plan? You need to fight them. But you said I couldn't win? Probably not hand to hand combat because they probably have a weapon, but if we get you a weapon too than you might have a chance. Where am I going to get a weapon? The most dangerous thing I can find is an empty milk container. You're wearing some weapons right now. Huh? Your shoes.

My shoes? I peered down at my boots, focusing on the heels. They were like seven inches, but still.

Heels kill people. Thus, they can hurt whoever is after us. That means I have to kick them, which they can dodge. Trust me, I know you're incompetent, so I wouldn't dare put that much pressure on you. I hate you.

We're going to make a shank out of your heel. What? How the heck do we do that? And that sounds time-consuming. Stilettos heels are already somewhat sharp you just need to give them a bit more edge. That sounds complicated. It's not. And we got time. They're trying to prolong your misery for their own pleasure, or they would've attacked by now. They want to see you scared — to see you tremble. Why do you think Tini got the upper hand last time? She wasn't scared, which threw them off. This person thrives on control and fear. They're using your own fear to control you.

It worked.

Right now, where do you think they are? I think they're in the tunnel we originally came through — straight ahead. But the walls were shaking so they could be — no, go with your first thought. You were right. They want to mess with you and make you think they could be anywhere. They're hiding right where you said, somewhere in that original tunnel.

This place is a maze, but it's almost impossible that they could go from behind us when we were at Gmie's room to in front of us now. They're still there, watching.

If they're there, that means I might be able to outrun them to the light. That hallway is long, and they might be able to outrun you. And we don't even know if that light leads to anything. So what do I do? Just sit here and wait to die? No, we're going to make the weapon while you keep them entertained. They eventually will attack, but most likely when they're bored. So, keep them entertained enough for you to make the weapon and then you fight them and kill them.

Yeah, you make them sound SO easy. Just kill them. Yeah. It seems easier just to get to the light. Fine. Whatever. Just hurt them enough to run away. You're really this upset about me not trying to kill them? Yes! You always have to take the fun out of everything. I hope your future husband is happy doing missionary for the rest of his life. I know more than missionary thank you very much. Do you? Look, we don't have time for this. Like I said, we'll make the shank while you keep them entertained.

Entertained? How? Talk to them. Huh? Are you that socially awkward? I'm sorry if I don't know what to talk about with a psychopathic killer who smells like strawberries and loves pigs. We live in a house with a bunch of killers. That's different. Not really. What do you talk about with your team? Stupid stuff or we laugh at Yaz and Rucker arguing.

Well, don't offend them. Just talk normally as you follow my directions.

I went to retort but stopped myself since I didn't have a better plan. And she was right. They would've attacked by now if their main goal was to just kill me. They had other plans for me, and I didn't want to be a part of them if I could help it. 

First, take off your boots and slam one of the heels against the wall to break it off. Be as discreet as possible.

Peeking up at the unsteady light, I eyed the tunnel once more before moving back toward the wall. I unzipped my boots and grabbed the left one.

TALK.

"Umm who — are you?" I asked aloud, feeling weird and awkward.

Smooth. You could talk an anti-social virgin out of their panties with that one. Give me a break.

Gripping the boot around the base, I slammed the heel against the wall, a loud clacking sound rippling through the atmosphere.

Talk while you're doing that, or they'll get suspicious.

"Uh do-do you like pie?" I asked, whacking the heel against the wall again, a bit harder this time. "I l-like pie."

Pie? Seriously? Who doesn't like pie? I prefer cobbler.

"Food should be the last thing on your mind, piggy. You're fat enough."

I huffed and used that short spurt of anger wafting through my core to crush the boot into the rock at an angle. The heel snapped off with a soft thunk before slipping to the ground. "I am not fat!"

"Does chunky smut sound better?"

I went to respond, but she cut me off.

Argue and keep moving. Pick up the heel and grate it across the rocky wall. It'll sharpen the tip. Huh? They do it in jail to make shanks all the time. This one guy made a knife out of a plastic coffee top. You can make a shank out of anything. How do you know about all of this? I don't know. Just do it.

Placing the shoe on the ground slowly and quietly, I picked up the discarded heel.

Keep talking.

"Uh how do you know about my alters?" I grated the sharp tip against the wall, peeking over my shoulder every so often to see if there was any movement in the tunnel. None.

"So you're admitting your fat?"

"I am not fat!"

"Say that to your love handles."

"I don't have love handles!" I scraped a little too hard, emitting a loud sound.

"What are you doing?"

Gruff footsteps crunched on the ground in the distance, and I moved the heel tip against the roughness ten times faster, dust and soft particles catching the air from my effort.

"I um tripped — how do you know about my alters?" Numbness began to set in my fingers, but I kept going, moving faster and faster.

"I know a lot about you." Footsteps again.

What the hell do I say now? I continued grinding, not even knowing if it was actually working. I heard of jail shanks before, but I didn't know if this was how you made one. 

"Look — ah I'm sorry for biting you before."

Did you really bring that up? Now? I'm doing my freaking best, okay? You talk to them then. Ah I would. I really would but you know I'm kind of busy at the moment BEING LOCKED UP BECAUSE OF YOU AND BEAVER TEETH. Look—

"YOU'RE SORRY?"  The robotic voice came out sharp and piercing, cutting me off and making me flinch.

"You mutilated me! I limped for days and I'll have this scar for life."

Good. "Well you did try to kill me," I said, doing shorter strokes against the hard wall, the excess dirt peppering my fingers.

"Trying to kill you was a blessing. You deserved far worse for what you did to me."

So them attacking me was personal like I thought, but why? What did I do to them? "What did—"

"And you'll get worse. I was just gonna kill you, but after our last encounter, I realized you deserved much more than that. I'm going to sacrifice you for the greater good."

Those words came out rushed and husky. Almost like they were speaking directly on my skin and that made me recoil, and I grated my finger instead of the heel. I cringed, dropped the heel, and stuffed my finger into my mouth. 

Stop being a dummy — eat that pain and hurry up. I'm trying.

I hurried and picked up the heel, swirling around at the sudden crackle and pop hitting the air.

"You really have no idea who I am, do you?"

The light above me shattered into tiny chips. Spiky pieces rained down. I ducked, holding my arms over my head as the surviving bulb trembled, barely hanging on but still emitting a tiny gloom of light.

"But you will, piggy. I think you'll be a little shocked too."

The closeness and the finality in their voice shocked my chest, making my pulse pitter-patter like fresh blood dripping on a gravestone.

"Don't be scared witty piggy. I promise it'll hurt the whole time."

Instead of hearing their voice all around me like before, they spoke within earshot, merely feet away.

I swung my head to the tunnel, straining to see through the grayish shadows as the bulb slowly dimmed. I gulped when silver boot tips rimmed the entrance of the tunnel, a figure blending in with the duskiness. 

The dying bulb fizzled out right after I caught them taking off into a run, each deafening footstep getting closer to me by the second.

My breath stiffened on my tongue, body surging with fresh adrenaline, fingers getting chilly. I had only three choices at the moment — follow her plan and fight them, run like hell or faint. 

What the hell should I do?

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