They thought they had lost her too but she came out after some seconds. They hugged themselves tightly with smiles on their faces, they were glad they were still alive. They thought, perhaps, if they finished the remaining twelve pages of the book, the game would be over and they would go home.

With God on their side, they survived the first six pages together, and their hope lived until the seventh page.  The riddles became tougher, Big Spence died, they should have expected that.

Two kitchen forks were all that hung Big Spence on the wall. They went through the corners of his mouth, cutting the mouth wide and exposing the molars and premolars of his teeth. His long bloodied tongue was out dangling below the lower lips as blood dripped down onto the floorboards. The curly pink long intestines that were pulled out of his torn belly were thrown around his neck like memorial beads of an African traditional ruler.

Harley and Becky were saddened by Big Spence's death but they had to continue the game, it was the only shot at survival. Five more pages, five more rounds, and riddles got tougher. Their chance of surviving got slimmer.

Surprisingly, four rounds were survived, only a page left. Like most games, the last stage is always the most difficult. It is always the most frustrating.

“‘Last clue’...that's all is written here, I don't get it,” Harley said anxiously.

“I don't get mine either. Harley, are we gonna die?” Becky spoke, her voice quiver.

“I don't know, no, we're not gonna die, we'll find a way. We have come this far,” Harley said, with a glimpse of hope.

The strange music began to play again, everything in the house began to vibrate. Flower vases and plates dropped from heights, shattering on the floorboards. Metals clung giving off loud noises, tree branches scraping at the windows scritched, rats squeaked, and there were movements in the walls.

“We're gonna die...we're gonna die...we're gonna die, Harley,” Becky cried.

Thirty seconds passed, the music stopped, and the lights began to flicker again with everything still vibrating. All the lights went off and they could not feel nor hear each other, just words whispering in their ears, screams, and footsteps on the stair.

The lights came back on faster than usual, and they could see themselves again, alive. They stared at each other in surprise as smiles formed at the corner of their mouths. They had made it, they thought.

“Did we best it?” Becky asked in a hush tone.

Sarah wasn't done with them. A shadow appeared out of the blue, grabbed Becky by the leg, and dragged her quickly into one of the rooms. She screamed.

Harley ran behind them to grab Becky's hands but the shadow was too fast. The door slammed shut in his face.

He didn't quit, he took steps back to ram the door with the side of his shoulder, threw kicks at it, hit hard with his fists. The door still didn't open.

He could hear the screams and cries of Becky from outside, she was being tortured.

He slammed his fists on the door again and shouted, “Let her go you son of a bitch! Becky, hold on, I'm coming to get ya!”

The screams grew louder, he continued to battle with the door until its knob broke. He bent his knee, to look through the hole the broken knob left on the door. Then, he could see what the shadow was doing to Becky.

Becky was held up against the wall with nothing visible. Then, the shadow moved closer to where she hung, held her tongue out with one hand, and sliced it off with a knife in the other hand. Blood oozed out of her mouth, flowed through her lower lip, and down to her jaw.

As in movies, Harley watched in slow motion as a drop of blood dripped from Becky's jaw and landed on the floorboards, giving off an imaginary echo.