Page 67 of Not Her Day to Die

And now they’re not moving.

The silence is louder than the whirring had ever been.

I twist around, stare down the line of hallways.

“They’re all occupied,” Luna confirms, matter-of-factly.

Tugging the key out of my pocket, I flash it at her. “We need to save them. All of them.”

Luna sighs and reaches up, rubbing her temples. “But what will that do? They’ve probably sealed us in here. That key might open the doors in here, but it won’t do anything with those leading outside. They’re thick, metal.”

Hopelessness filters through, but then the purple strands draw my attention. The three leading outside pulsate heavier, stronger. They remindme of my connection, of our plan, of the fact that the O’Brienswillfind us. They won’t stop until we’re reunited.

I know it with certainty.

“Our rescuers will come. We just need to get everyone ready to go.”

Luna doesn’t look convinced but she doesn’t argue. “Fine, unlock the doors and I will help them out. Some might not be able to walk on their own.”

With our plan made, I make my way to the first door.

While I know the O’Brien brothers will come for us, I’m not sure that it will be in time.

33

October 7th

It takes a long time to open nearly one hundred doors, and by the time I make it to the last few closest to the exit, I am out of breath, my head foggy, my vision wisping at the edges.

Behind me is a testament to the evil that this dungeon is. Hundreds of countless victims in various states of distress. Some seem like they have arrived sooner, but others?

I recognize faces from my youth who disappeared. Over a decade ago.

“Hurry up!” Luna expels. “You two go try to find anything that can help open the door.”

There is a heavy coat of unease in the space. Most have realized the air is no longer circulating down here, but they aren’t panicking. Years of abuse have forced them to accept the inevitable.

Unlocking the final door, I tug it open.

And gasp.

While I had recognized countless others, and many had known me throughout the years, there is one that shocks me the most.Tiffany.

Maxwell’s last girlfriend. A cheerleader at my school, in my grade.

She leans against the brick wall, her features gaunt, sunken in.

Her cracked lips lift. “Sunday?”

I’m shocked she knows my name. We didn’t run in the same circles, but I push the thought aside as I make my way into her cell.

I reach out, offering her my hand. She takes it, but her grip is weak, and I have to maneuver around to get her off the ground.

And when she is, her knees buckle.

My heart breaks again. Just as it had with every victim that appeared from their cell. For the realization that this vile place has existed well before I was born. That it would have continued to exist well after I died.

But not anymore.