Someone set up this place.
Someone planned for this.
Someone picked us for a reason.
Unsplash / Andreas Eriksson
By
Updated 8 years ago,July 21, 2017
What the fuck?
How did we get in here?
I think Im bleeding.
Were all bleeding, dumbass.
We need to sort this shit out, a boy with an ocean sleeve said.
He climbed onto the coffee table inside a semi-circle of couches to be better seen.
Unsplash / Andreas Eriksson
Anybody here have any memory of… anything?
Murmurs floated through the room, soft and confused.
Maybe a serial killer kidnapped us, drugged us, and dragged us here?
Each new theory out-crazied the last, but I failed to come up with anything to beat them.
My mind felt heavy, thick with questions.
Who cares why were here?
The convulsions started at her fingertips and worked their way down her spine and into her legs.
She shivered there, stuck in an electric seizure, for ten counts until she stiffened and dropped.
I could still do that.
I could still count.
I knew numbers and letters and words, elementary school knowledge.
Crime novels and fighting styles and gun classes.
Personal details stayed lost in a fog.
Other discoveries were made, on the edge of relieving and disturbing.
Food in the fridge.
Cans in the cupboards.
Clean clothes in the closets and shampoo in the shower stalls.
A teenager with tribal markings raised a brow.
What about an alien abduction?
Cant rule out that either.
Something we all shared.
A reason someone would group us together and lock us inside.
I glanced from face to face.
We all have tattoos, I said, my voice thin and cracked from disuse.
I dont know, maybe that means something.
Tribal Marks made a comment about howeveryonehad tattoos nowadays, how even old ladies sported ink.
Conversations branched toward other things.
Wait, no, wait.
Our tattooscouldhelp, Angel said, raising three fingers like a girl scout leader.
Its doubtful thats why were here, but maybe it can spark a memory.
Maybe it can give us a clue about who we are.
She lifted her tattooed shoulder.
I mean, I must have gotten this for a reason.
Oh, maybe I was a preachers wife!
Ive always had a thing for those southern types with their long…
Ocean sleeve rested a hand on her shoulder, his gentle way of cutting her off.
Dont judge a book by its cover, thats the saying, right?
I dont want us to go judging people based on their tats when we need to stick together.
I wondered if that happened as a little girl.
I stumbled upstairs, anxiety still swirling through my stomach, and discovered a row of bathrooms back-to-back.
I found four of them.
A jet black garter belt holding a knife which circled my thigh.
A half-faded skull on my wrist.
A yellow jellyfish on my hip.
Barbed wire around my ankle.
Or I could have been fucking him.
He could have been the love of my life or an ex who hated my guts.
Maybe I should pull Ocean Sleeve aside and tell only him instead of announcing it to the whole house?
On tiptoes, I exited the bathroom and walked toward the adjoining one with its door ajar.
Hey, whoa, are you okay?
Teardrop twisted toward my voice, stretching out the arm holding the razor.
His wrist shook as much as his voice when he said, I killed someone.
What do you mean?
Theres a fucking teardrop on my cheek.
I might not remember much, but I know what that means.
There are multiple meanings, I said.
It could also mean that you spent time in prison.
Or some people get them to mourn the loss of a family member.
I cleared my throat to sound more convincing, unsure of how I learned a fact like that.
The skin sliced and his head tumbled forward.
They dragged me away from the body to get their own turn plugging his gash and checking his pulse.
Thats the same tattoo that the electrocuted girl had, I said.
Did they know each other?
Did everyone in the house have a match?
Were we all couples, all siblings?
She aint in this house.
I checked every room.
Theres no way she escaped, Ocean said.
She was still knocked out.
I left her on the couch.
She couldnt have stumbled outside on accident when the rest of us failed to do it on purpose.
Everyone scuttled downstairs to see the proof themselves, but of course, Tribal told the truth.
No Paw Prints in sight.
They both have butterflies behind their right ear.
One winner, one loser?
Every voice dropped into silence, because she actually sounded plausible.
That actually sounded disturbing enough for the truth.
Tribal wasted no time in ripping off his shirt.
Lets see what everybodys got.
The girls shook their heads.
The boys gave nervous laughs.
And I crossed my arms, holding them even tighter to my body as Tribal approached.
We need to test the theory and find our match, he said, thrusting me against the wall.
His fingernails pierced my wrist, pinning it to my lower back.
No one tried to pull them apart.
They just kept watching, looking thankful not to be involved.
Underneath Tribals shit talk, I heard a female voice say, Im sorry for all this.
With one hard push, she dug it deep into her twins chest and twisted.
The girl collapsed, knife still plunged through her flesh with the handle poking toward the sky.
But her sisters butterfly tattoo glowed a bright white, like LED lights were placed beneath her skin.
That shine worked its way up and down her body until she became a burning glob of light.
A star in the center of the room.
It blinded me with white, and when my vision returned, she was gone.
Oh no no no no.
She could be someplace else.
No one listened to my theory.
Without warning, strangers lunged toward each other.
They ripped shirts from skin.
They scratched and kicked and bit.
Without knowing their match, they attacked anyone who came close to them.
I scrambled toward safety, passing Ocean on the way and I justknowhe saw.
I watched his eyes slip down to my waist where our matching tattoo sat.
Where my identical jellyfish swam.
I needed it for protection, nothing more.
My best bet would be if someone else killed Ocean in the chaos, sending me into the light.
Not that I wanted him dead.
Maybe I could find a way to protect us both, maybe our match didnt have to die.
Maybe we just needed tonothave a match to be set free.
My bony thin hip.
Without any memories, happiness felt hard to find.
I cant let you in, I said.
I wouldnt hurt my match.
His voice sounded faint through the wood.
Besides, I dont think they have it right anyway.
When we first got here, there were only thirteen people.
Now there are nine.
With an uneven number of people, how could everyone have a match?
I tried to tell them, but no one out there would listen to reason.
Fuck, I screamed, but it came out as a whisper.
My parents never let me get a hip tattoo.
They said it was too sexual.
So you got it behind their back?
he asked, sliding down to my level.
His eyes darted between my unexplained cut and the abandoned knife across the room.
I dont think I know you.
I think someone gave us these tattoos.
At least the matching ones.
I dont even like jellyfish.
Especially bright colored ones when the rest of my tattoos are plain black.
And the only reason I couldhearwhistling was because the rest of the house had gone silent.
Because everyone else had stopped breathing or poofed away.
When the last remaining person came inside, a gun swung from her hands.
No, this is not earth.
No, I am not a guardian angel.
I am your chaperone.
And no, you were not good enough to get into heaven.
But hell is overcrowded.
The bile in my throat cut off my laughter.
She must be joking?
But then, it made sense in a sick sort of way.
The loss of memories.
The unrecognizable body art.
The white light snatching souls away.
You all everyone in this house behaved shitty throughout your entire lives.
Shitty enough to be sentenced downstairs.
I struggled to stand, legs shaky.
And you test us by placing us in some random house with random people?
By placing you into a stressful environment and seeing how you react to extreme doubt, distress, fear.
Its different each time.
Each guardian gets free reign to design whatever punch in of social experiment they yo.
She talked so casually.
Like a teenager, not an otherworldly being.
Youre lucky, really.
Other guardians stick their participants in rough waters.
Or they mimic hell and test reactions.
Oceans top lip met his nose in a snarl.
Are you telling us we passed?
Are you congratulating us?
Neither of you killed anyone, but… She sucked air between her teeth.
We dont wanttoomany criminals upstairs.
Weve been doing half-and-half.
Thats why I came up with the matching tattoo bit.
To break you into pairs.
A killer goes to hell, their match goes to heaven.
Gets their memories restored.
Gets their loved ones company.
Only room for one more of you, though.
She crouched to the floor.
Slid the gun toward Ocean and I.
Another test and we both knew it.
Whoever shot the gun would be sent directly to hell.
After pushing back the safety, I fired the full clip into the lock.
I kicked the door the rest of the way to reveal a white expanse of nothingness.
As I hovered on the edge, I thought of Teardrop and the blood splashed across his skin.
I thought of Butterflies and the way she shoved a knife through her twin.
I thought of all the painful things I could remember during the last few hours.
Memories that ate me alive and I barely knew the people, barely cared.
I could only imagine how much pain it would cause me to remember the twenty (thirty?
years of my life on earth.
How many people I hurt.
How much destruction I caused.
How many regrets I piled up.
He didnt have to nod.
He didnt have to speak.
