Chapter 59
Avery is one of your closest friends, and she wouldn’t steer you wrong. If she says going through the back is the safest way to get out, you’re better off following her.
You keep close to Avery as you hurry through the first floor of the house.
It looked cavernously large from the outside, but now that you’re inside, it feels endless.
There are a million hallways and twists and turns.
If you didn’t have Avery, you’d be completely lost. Thank God she’s here to guide you.
It feels like you’ve been walking for miles. You stop for a moment to catch your breath. “Is it much farther?”
She hesitates only a moment. “Not much,” she assures you.
She takes you down another hallway, and now you’re getting concerned, because you definitely recognize that portrait of Mr. Wentworth. You’ve been here before—you know it. But how is that possible? Are you going around in circles?
You hope Avery knows what she’s doing. Maybe you would have been better off just going out the front door, but it’s far too late for that. You’d never find your way back there.
Finally, you reach a white door with an ornate bronze doorknob. Avery reaches over to turn the knob and then pushes the door open. And….
Wait. This is the dining room.
Mr. Wentworth is sitting at one of the place settings, his hands folded in front of him. His gray hair had become slightly disheveled when he was first coming after you, but now it’s been smoothed back into place. When he sees you, he gets to his feet.
He’s holding a knife in his right hand.
You look from Mr. Wentworth to Avery, your head spinning. What’s going on here? Avery lowers her eyes, unable to look at you. “I’m so sorry, Sloan.”
“What?” you croak.
“They offered me so much money,” she says, almost frantically. “Enough to get me out of debt, with enough left over for me to buy a loft. You know I’ve always wanted a loft, Sloan.”
It hits you like a ton of bricks. Avery knew these people were cannibals the whole time.
She knew they were going to eat you, and she was fine with it!
She sold you out! You turn around, ready to bolt, but the door to the dining room is now closed.
You reach for the knob and discover it doesn’t turn.
“Don’t be upset, Sloan,” Mr. Wentworth says to you as he comes around the dining table. “It’s a great honor to be served by the Adventurous Eaters Club. As you can see, we only choose the creme de la creme of animals. And now you’re going to join them on our wall for all eternity.”
He looks at you like he expects you to thank him. Instead, you spit in his face. Unperturbed, he wipes away the glob of saliva.
“It’s best to just let this happen,” he says. “All of the animals we’ve dined on have put up some amount of fight, but it’s always easiest on them if they don’t.”
Fight—yes, that’s what you should do. You’ve got to fight. Except… how? You don’t have a weapon. The place settings only have butter knives, which really shouldn’t even be called knives at all. And it’s now two against one.
Before you can even weigh your options, Mr. Wentworth lunges at you. He draws the blade across your neck, and if you ever did have a chance at escape, it is now gone. You fall to your knees, choking on whatever words you were going to say.
If only you had gone out the front door. Everything would have been different.
THE END
Want to try for a different ending? Turn back to Chapter 1 (page 1)!
OR to come back as a ghost, turn to Chapter 66 (page 169)