Charlie's stomach contracted, sending a distinct signal to her throat: something needs to come up. She gagged. Nothing came. She gagged again. Swallowed hard. She reached her hand out toward the dead blue lips, the swollen tongue protruding slightly. Her fingers were heading straight for the tip of that little silver key underneath.

To her dismay, the closer she came toward the tongue, the better she saw. What she saw beyond the teeth was squirming. Dozens of little bugs. Maggots. Finally, something came up. She vomited the awful concession stand pizza she ate earlier. It had mingled with Sprite and stomach bile to make a most foul tasting concoction. Aftershocks dripped down her chin. She wiped it away with her palm.

The dead girl still stared blankly, not caring about her horrible predicament, not knowing that the decomposing sight of her was sickening. Charlie wondered if she wouldn't be better off that way--not knowing and not caring--than she was going through this right now.

"Shit!" she shouted, because she knew that wasn't an option.

She had to get out of this. She had to get Shay out, and she had to get them both back to their families.

It's just a key. Don't think about where it is, just get it! She went for it again. The tongue felt mushy, like thick rice pudding. She pulled at the key and maggots spilled from the corpse's lips as the girl's tongue lolled out.

Charlie turned away from the dead girl, unable to bear the sight anymore. She dashed out of the room, into the hallway and thrusted the key into the lock, ready for the next task. Whatever it was, it couldn't be as disgusting or creepy as this.

But the key didn't turn the lock.

"It doesn't fit!" Charlie screamed. "It doesn't even fit you sick prick!"

Laughter exploded through the speakers. Frustrated, she threw the useless key. It flew through the chain links and out into darkness.

"You didn't think it would be so easy did you?" he said. "You should keep searching. There are lots of places to hide things in a dead body."

"No! No, I won't touch it again," she demanded. "I can't! I refuse!"

Static screeched from the speaker and then a tiny voice. At first it was hard to hear, but then it came through.

"Charlie?" cried Shay. "Charlie, are you there? Help me! Please, please help!"

"Hush now, dear," Jack said, taking the mic back. "I'm sure she won't leave you here to die like all the others before you." Charlie heard Shay's muffled scream after his words.

Charlie's heart sank, knowing what she had to do. Her entire body seemed to protest as she forced her legs to walk back into that room. Her brain screamed. Her eyes watered. Her stomach churned. Still, she walked in, knowing that she either had to touch this thing, or she and her friend may become like the very thing she was currently afraid of.

The dead girl was still looking at the ceiling without seeing it. Her face was plastered with the terror she had felt at her time of death. Charlie tugged, almost numbly, at the blanket. It slipped down, revealing the girl's neck, where a thin purple bruise wrapped around. Jack had obviously strangled her with some type of ligature. Charlie had heard that strangulation was the most personal form of murder. Bullets could kill from far away, knives make the victim bleed out, but with strangulation, the murderer has to be close and stay with the victim until their last breath. To be so personal...Jack loves killing.

Charlie felt a chill crawl up her spine, but she didn't let go of the blanket. It continued to ride downward. Shoulders, boney and ghastly; chest, bare. Slashes covered the girl's torso, maggots wriggled in them all. Some had smeared blood, some had scabs, and some had no blood at all. He'd continued to cut her even after she was gone and bloodless. A glimmer of silver poked out of one of the gruesome, maggot filled slashes.

Charlie sobbed. Just seeing what he'd done to this poor girl was overwhelming. This dead person had a family and a life, but now she was a gnarly prop in some psycho's twisted game. At that moment, Charlie hoped for nothing more than this prick to go to prison and face the loved ones of his victims in court. She wanted them to look at him with disgust and hate. Wanted the whole world to know how screwed up he was, and then she wanted the families to get to see, the rest of the world to watch, while they put him to death.

But she wasn't that far ahead. She was still in this room with the body and the hidden key. Her friend was still in the dangerous clutches of this sicko and it was up to her to get her to safety.

Charlie held her breath. It was easier not to vomit again if she didn't breathe. She plunged her hand down, grabbed the key protruding from the dead flesh and ripped it away. Maggots and tissue clung to it. She ran, slipping slightly in her own puke. She reached the lock and shoved the macabre key in.

The lock turned.