In the next moment, Ronald's eyes snapped open like someone waking from a nightmare—and bolted upright, panic lacing every fiber of his body.
"G-ack! Llyne! Run!" he gasped, terror choking his voice like it was still stuck in whatever horror had just chased him through dreamland.
I threw my arms around him immediately, a wave of relief washing over me like warm light after a cold storm.
"Oh, Ronald, my sleeping beast! You're finally awake."
Ronald blinked rapidly, confusion swimming in his eyes like a lost puppy trying to remember where it lived.
"Llyne? What happened?"
"You fainted and left me alone facing the zombie lady," I said, puffing out my cheeks with a pout.
Ronald dropped his gaze, visibly shrinking. "Oh. I'm sorry, Llyne. I didn't mean to. It's just... I'm not good with horror stuff."
I glanced over at him. He looked like a rain-drenched mutt that got abandoned outside the vet. My heart couldn't help but soften at that pitiful sight.
"Alright," I said, letting a small smile slip through. "I'll forgive you. Just promise me you'll send some liquor my way after we leave here."
"Promise!" Ronald nodded with a childlike sparkle in his eyes.
Still dazed, Ronald gingerly touched his chest. A wince twisted his face.
"Llyne, why does my body hurt?"
I glanced sideways, guilt blooming like mold in the corners of my conscience.
"Err...? Maybe because you injured yourself when you fainted...?"
My tone was high-pitched and thin like a poorly stretched violin string. I was lying, and I knew it. But he didn't question it.
"Oh, I guess that happened," he said with a sheepish smile.
My guilt doubled.
"When I get back, I'm going to drown myself with alcohol." I muttered under my breath.
Note: Only for entertainment purposes. Do not follow!
Ronald tilted his head. "Llyne. What is this place?"
I turned slowly.
And froze.
The room around us felt like we had just walked into the memory of a horror film director's worst nightmare.
Grimy walls. Peeling paint like flaking skin.
Flickering lights bathed everything in an eerie greenish hue, casting long shadows that didn't seem to match the shapes of what made them.
Torture devices. Everywhere.
Iron maidens. Bone-crushing racks. Hooks. Chains. Spikes.
Stains on the walls. Bones on the floor.
And in the center of it all—
A massive iron cage. Hanging. Spiked.
Swaying ever so slightly, casting twisted shadows like dancing ghouls across the walls.
I didn't filter my words.
"Torture room."
"Torture room?!" Ronald practically screamed.
Realizing my blunder, I switched gears faster than a con artist caught mid-scheme.
"Props! For movies, ya know?"
"It looks real though." His voice trembled.
I quickly grabbed his arm and turned him away.
"Look, it has to look real because you know how harsh those movie critics can be. If it doesn't look convincing, they'll trash the movie with their gibberish nonsense."
He nodded, though the color in his face hadn't returned.
I patted his shoulder
"There, there, Ronald. Don't be so scared. You have me here. When have I ever let any harm come near you?"
My voice was gentle, comforting... hiding the memory of me flinging him like a sack of potatoes at a raging zombie.
"As long as no one tells him," I muttered, "he'll never know."
"Isn't that right?" I smiled at him.
"Yup!"
"Good!"
I straightened. "Now let's carry on. Tell me if you're not feeling well, wouldn't want you to faint again."
He nodded.
Together, we ventured deeper into the chamber.
But the deeper we walked, the more the atmosphere felt like it was pressing down on my skin.
"This place is tingling every hair on my body," I muttered, crossing my arms as if it might shield me.
Ronald, meanwhile, looked around the room like a kid on a museum trip. Blissfully unaware.
"Ignorance is bliss," I mumbled.
Then something caught my eye—two blood-stained lab coats draped over a bench.
They stank of iron and something worse.
"Ugh... This is disgusting," I said.
But Ronald just beamed. "Oh wow! The red paint they used really looks like blood! You can't even tell the difference."
I nodded slowly.
"Ya... Red paint... Sure."
That's when a plan sparked. A wicked, glittering plan.
"Oh ho! We might be able to use these to our advantage and catch that zombie lady, after all."
Ronald watched me with innocent curiosity, noting the growing grin on my face.
'Llyne is smiling. I wonder what's making her smile?'
'If Llyne is happy, I'm happy too.'
I tossed him a lab coat.
"Here, wear it."
He caught it, bewildered. "Why are we wearing lab coats?"
"Ever wanted to try being a doctor, even just for a little while?"
"Doctor? In a torture room? I thought doctors are normally in hospitals?"
"Stop with the questions and put it on. Our star guest is about to make her entrance."
"Star guest? I'm confused."
"Just trust me and follow my lead."
And then, right on cue—
SCREEECH!!
The zombie lady exploded through the door like a banshee let loose from the underworld.
I smiled, unshaken.
"There's our star guest."
The zombie lady stopped mid-lunge, blinking at us in what could only be described as... puzzlement.
"Seems like she's not used to such a warm welcome," Ronald joked weakly.
"Well, not to worry 'cause she'll get plenty from now on."
I stepped forward with flair and confidence.
"Welcome to our show, Torture Zombie."
I threw out my arms dramatically.
"My name is Llyne, the emcee of this program, as well as the torturer of this evening. And this ever-loving sweet boy standing beside me is Ronald, who will be assisting me in torturing our star guest, Lady Zombie."
The zombie lady gawked at us like someone who had just walked into the wrong sitcom.
I grabbed her face, ignoring the grotesque crunch of bones shifting beneath my grip, and turned her toward the "camera."
"Don't look at me. Look at the camera. Remember to smile!"
Click!
Ronald took a selfie, the flash illuminating the horror show in a surreal moment of comedy.
"Great shot, Ronald! Now, carry on."
I faced the empty room and grinned.
"This is our first program, so I hope our dear viewers at home will give us lots of support."
Finger heart flashed.
"Alright, let me introduce what Torture Zombie is all about. As the name suggests, Ronald and I will be torturing zombies using all these torturing devices you see here. Simple, right? I mean, what's so complicated about it? You're just sitting and watching while we do all the work."
I giggled and knocked my own head lightly.
"Well, I'm just joking! Now let's get started."
CLAP.
Ronald, committed to the bit, led our "guest" to the first device, which lay beneath a grimy sheet.
"Behold, ladies and gentlemen, the first torture device we're going to use on our dear star guest."
I approached the covered contraption and gently poked the cloth.
"I wonder what's hidden beneath this cloth? Are you all as curious as we are?"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
"Let's reveal it!" I shouted.