The Fear We Share

Kill Or Be Killed

Then, just as suddenly as she appeared, the woman turned and left, dragging the blade along the floor with a screech that made the kids cover their ears. The heavy door slammed shut behind her, echoing like a gunshot.

For a moment, no one moved.

Tay Tay finally broke the silence, his voice low but sharp. “I know she is not talking ’bout us.”

“On bro,” I replied, jaw tight. "But we can’t wait to find out. We have to make a plan.”

I pushed myself to my feet, scanning the room. My eyes darted over the walls, the steel door, the faint vents near the ceiling. Anything could be a way to exit. My fingers trailed along the wall as I searched, my mind racing.

Behind me, Tay Tay whispered to calm the kids, but his eyes stayed locked on me. We both knew—if we didn’t find a way out soon, those sheets wouldn’t just be covering strangers.

They’d be covering us.

As I searched the room, something sharp caught my hand. I flinched back, then leaned closer. Two razor blades were jutting out of the wall, their edges rusted but still sharp enough to slice skin. Carefully, I worked them loose and slipped them into my palm.

A little further on, I lifted the edge of a sheet draped over one of the bodies. Some were burned badly, others were decapitated. My chest tightened, but I forced myself to keep looking. That’s when I saw them—two hooks, heavy and stained, hidden beneath a corpse like someone had left them there on purpose.

I brought everything back to where Tay Tay and the kids huddled. His eyes went wide when he saw the weapons, but he nodded, jaw set.

We leaned close to the two oldest kids. My voice was low, steady, even though my hands shook. “Listen. This is still a haunted house, okay? But to win and escape, we need your help.”

Their eyes darted from me to the hooks.

“When the lady comes in,” I continued, “she’ll turn toward me and Tay Tay.” That’s when you move. You drive these hooks into the backs of her legs. Hard. Don’t stop until she’s down. "When she falls… I glanced at Tay Tay, who gripped the blades tight. “…we’ll finish it.”

The kids swallowed hard but nodded.

Then the footsteps started again. Slow. Heavy. Getting closer.

The handle rattled.

The door swung open again.

This time, she didn’t drag the giant blade. Instead, her massive hand clutched something smaller—a short but long blade, gleaming under the dim light. Somehow, that was worse. It wasn’t meant for intimidation. It was meant for close work.

She stepped inside, towering as always, but quieter, her eyes sharp, calculating. “No need to scream,” she rasped. “It’ll be quicker tonight.”

The kids tensed, looking at me, waiting. Tay Tay’s jaw flexed as he gripped the razor tighter.

We had seconds to act.

“Now,” I whispered.

The kids moved fast, shoving the hooks deep into the backs of her legs. She roared, her voice rattling the walls, and staggered forward—but she didn’t drop. Not yet, at least.

She spun on them with terrifying speed, slashing the blade through the air. I lunged, grabbing her arm before she could reach the kids. Pain burned through my arm as the blade grazed me, but I held on.

Rushing in from the side, tay tay slashed his razor across her face, a red line blooming instantly. She screamed again, jerking back, but the hooks dragged her down further due to the pain, her knees hitting the tile with a sickening thud.

Her blade clattered away, skittering across the floor.

She was down—but not out. Her huge hands clawed at the floor, trying to push herself up again.

Tay Tay looked at me, breathing hard. “Bro, we have to end this.”

I looked at Tay Tay, chest heaving. “You get your siblings. You take them and go. Now.” “I’ll end this alone focus on getting yourselves out alive.”

His jaw clenched, but he nodded, rounding up the kids fast. Their footsteps echoed as they bolted through the door into the hall.

That left me and her.

She was on her knees, blood streaking her face, hands clawing against the tile as if the floor itself might pull her back up. Her eyes locked onto mine, burning with hate even as her strength drained.

“You’ll regret this,” she rasped, her voice low and guttural. “My death will haunt you for years, Tylil—”

I didn’t let her finish.

With one swift motion, I dragged the razor across her throat. The sound was wet, final. She gurgled, clutching at the wound, and crumpled forward onto the tiles, the blood spreading fast beneath her.

“The only thing I regret,” I said coldly, “is not killing you sooner. Shouldn’t have let you get a word out.”

I stepped over her body and pushed through the door.

Now we were in a hallway, long and suffocating, bathed in pulsing red and blue lights that flickered on and off like a broken siren. Shadows stretched across the walls, twisting with every flash, and somewhere in the distance, I swore I heard whispers.

The kids huddled close to Tay Tay, eyes wide as they stared down the endless corridor.

“This ain’t over,” I muttered, tightening my grip on the bloodied blade.

As we got closer to the end of the hall, we found a staircase spiraling downward. The air grew colder with every step, our footsteps careful, silent.

Halfway down, I froze. Voices echoed up from below—two men talking.

Then I heard it.

“Come here, boy.”

A faint, shaky cry answered. “I don’t wanna… I want to go home.”

One of the men laughed, cruel and sharp. “This is your home now, lil’ shyt.”

The sound of a scuffle. Then the boy’s scream tore through the silence as the man shoved him into a freezer packed with dry ice. The lid slammed shut, his wails muffled but no less heartbreaking.

The kids behind us clutched each other, tears streaming down their faces. Tay Tay’s little brother whispered, voice trembling, “I don’t like this hunted house.” “Please help him.”

I looked at Tay Tay. “Stay here,” he told the kids firmly. “We’ll come back for you.”

Then we ran.

Tay Tay reached one man first. His fist connected with him so hard that the guy went flying, crashing into the table with a sickening bang.

The other turned on me, a knife flashing in his hand. He swung wildly, forcing me back, each s***h barely missing. My heart hammered. He stabbed my arm, leaving it bleeding badly. My eyes darted around, and then I spotted it. A heavy pan on the counter.

Pain exploded through my arm as the blade tore into me, hot blood running down my arm. My vision blurred for a second—but I gritted my teeth and refused to show any weakness.

The man grinned, thinking he had me cornered. He lunged again.

That’s when I snatched the pan off the counter, my good arm swinging with every ounce of strength I had left. The cast iron connected with his jaw in a c***k that echoed through the room. He stumbled, his teeth snapping together as blood sprayed from his mouth.

He tried to recover, but I didn’t give him the chance. I swung again, harder, the pan caving into his temple. His knees buckled.

Breathing ragged, I dropped the pan and grabbed his knife with my uninjured hand. His eyes widened in horror. I drove the knife upward, straight into his throat. His scream gurgled out in a wet choke before his body collapsed against the cold tile kitchen floor.

Behind me, I heard another crash.