Seven Deaths（七杀）

——我家姑娘写的短篇小说

AURORA DABRIA HAD STAYED UP nearly all night due to her plaguing anxiety over her paper. It was no secret that Ms. Min was a tough grader to the students of Konkuk Middle, and she had given her seventh-grade class a particularly difficult assignment—alternate realities and supporting evidence that they existed.

Ms. Min was known for her enigmatic beliefs, and she never hesitated to incorporate them into her assignments. She had spent an hour during their fifth block lecturing them on how alternate realities most definitely existed—unfortunately for her, fifth block followed their Physical Education class, and everyone was too exhausted to pay much attention.

That is, until she announced they would be writing an essay on the topic.

There were many teachers that could compete for the title of ‘Worst Teacher’ in Konkuk Middle, but Ms. Min was a top contender. Aurora had never seen nor felt such collective rage from the students against any teacher, but they could not complain. Their middle school was lenient when it came to teachers, and they allowed them to do whatever injustices they might wish to perform, the severity of which depended on their mood.

Aurora was positive she would fail the essay, for she had disagreed with Ms. Min, but she was too exhausted to make last-minute changes. Besides, nothing would happen besides perhaps a lecture from her parents, right?

☙

“I will be collecting your essays now.” Ms. Min stood up from her desk and strolled through the aisles of her classroom, collecting the papers from her students. Aurora couldn’t help but notice that many students avoided her penetrating gaze—she was sure that many of them were not comfortable with their essay. Though Aurora wasn’t afraid of failing, she would rather do well than not.

She gave her essay to Ms. Min, not looking away as the teacher looked at her in the eyes. She was barely able to realize Ms. Min’s eyes were pitch black when she looked away, moving on to the next student.

Aurora felt confusion, as well as a touch of fear. It wasn’t merely her iris—it was her entire eye. She looked around, but no one seemed to be concerned. Perhaps it was a trick of the light or her lack of sleep. Whichever it was, Aurora knew not to be afraid—the only thing you had to fear was fear itself. Well, and small spaces.

As Ms. Min moved back to the front of the room, placing the papers on her desk, she looked up. Her eyes were no longer were black—they were back to their dark-brown colour Aurora always assumed they were. She spoke, her voice soft but dangerous. “Though I have merely read the first few sentences of your papers, I am disappointed. It is clear that many of you have not put much thought into this essay—I expected better of you.” Her gaze stayed on Aurora for a fraction of a second longer than anyone else, but when she looked up again, Ms. Min was looking the other way.

“Today, we will be learning about the Salem Witch trials, where many innocent women and children were killed because of fear…”

☙

A buzz from her phone interrupted Aurora’s reverie. She had been thinking about the witch trials, and how fear had evoked such radical actions in the colonials.

Absentmindedly removing the buzzing object from her pocket, she turned the phone on. She had expected a text from her mom, or perhaps a plea for help from her friend to complete her homework. What she had not expected was a death threat—from an unknown number.

Aurora stared at the message for a while. It wasn’t like she was rich or particularly special. What did this person want with her? Her second realization was that she wasn’t afraid—this surprised her. A death threat should have scared anyone; if anything, she was worried for her parents and friends, not herself.

Putting her phone back in her pocket, she drifted away from the crowded streets, until there was no one going her way. Following the map on her phone, she was surprised to find herself at an abandoned old house—local legend had it that the owners had mysteriously disappeared one dark night. The old housekeeper that once lived there claimed she had seen a flash of white light, but she was dead now, and the house had fallen into decay.

She winced as the broken front door squeaked. The silence was comforting to her—she would much rather be alone. Following the stream of light, she found herself in a grand living room—or rather, the remnants of the once-beautiful room. There was only one door out of the room, and leading through it was a trail of deep red liquid, with looked suspiciously like blood.

She sighed and left the room, her feet making impressions on the dusty carpet.

She had just opened the door when a scream pierced the silence. Aurora froze—that meant someone else was in the house. She gathered her courage and pushed the kitchen door open. The first thing she saw was six identical people—one lying on the floor.

She then realized they were all identical to her.

☙

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Swallowing, she tried again, and managed to sputter, “Who—where—what?”

Their faces were grim—as if they’d come to terms with just how strange the situation was. “Hey, so, since one of us is dying on the floor right now, I’ll keep this concise. One, all of our names are Aurora Dabria. Two, you’ll be number seven, because we’ve labelled each other in order of who arrived first. Three, none of us have any idea while we’re here, so don’t think about it.”

Aurora stared blankly at...herself. This version of her was much too more straightforward than she could ever be. Her brown hair was tied into a ponytail, and her face was set into a frown.

The girl next to her rolled her eyes. “You were panicked when you came here. Just because you got here first, One, doesn’t mean you’re in charge. Besides, it’s not like you know this place any better than we do.” She picked at her nails, looking unconcerned as ‘One’ glared at her.

“Well, Two, you could do something instead of making sure your nails are pretty. In case you didn’t realize, Five’s just passed out. You think your nails will help you when someone’s de—”

“That is enough!” Another girl had stepped in. “Yes, One, Five’s passed out, but I don’t see you doing anything about it! And Two, did you really have to provoke her?” Aurora automatically labeled her as the peacemaker of the group—indeed, the two girls’ anger had merely subsided into pointed glares.

“Seven—” Seven. That left a bitter taste on Aurora’s tongue. “—I’m sorry about that. We’re rather panicked and aren’t in the best of states. I’m Four, it’s nice to meet you. You wouldn’t happen to know what to do with a person who has fainted, would you?”

Aurora sighed. Only a minute with these people and they needed her help. She wasn’t really a doctor or nurse, but her father was one. He’d used to spend his Sunday mornings coaching Aurora on necessary medical skills needed for day-to-day life. She looked at the room and realized it was a kitchen—that meant finding a chair would be easy. She pointed at the two strongest girls, One and one of the others. “You two, help me get her into the chair.” She pulled a faded blue-velvet chair from the dining table as the other two girls hoisted Five off of the floor.

Raise the person's legs above heart level and loosen any constricting items. She could hear her father’s voice in her head as she lifted the girl’s legs up, ignoring the surprised look on Two’s face. “Four, loosen her collar. It’s constricting her breathing.” Four did as she was told, and then turned to Aurora expectantly.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait. If she doesn’t wake up in a minute, we’re in trouble. I’ve only read about CPR, not actually done it.” She turned on her phone and set a timer. One minute.

“Wait, you have a phone? Just call the police, then we can get out of here.” Aurora rolled her eyes at the tone in her voice—she couldn’t see who it was, as she wasn’t facing the others.

“Why can’t you call them? You have a phone, too.”

“You appear to forget that we don’t know any phone numbers from here, nor do we have a data plan from here. Actually, give me your phone. What’s the police’s number?”

“Nine-one-one,” Aurora grumbled, handing the person who spoke her phone. She was either Three or Six, as neither had spoken yet. She watched Five closely, not paying attention to what was going on behind her.

Five’s eyes fluttered open, panicked as they focused on something behind Aurora. She appeared to fumble for something in her pocket, before falling back into the chair with a thud. Her eyes closed, and her breathing was shallow.

Determining that she was in no imminent danger, Aurora went to see how the call was going. Six—or Three—had just gotten through to the police, and was pacing as the phone’s rings pierced the silence.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

A man spoke. “Hello, how may we help you?”

Aurora’s chest felt lighter. She looked at Two and Four, who had smiles plastered on their face. The man’s voice was like a ray of sunshine in the darkness, a quick end to this mildly- terrifying situation. Everything would be alright—she could go back home and eat ramen all night, pet her dog, and stalk Youtube—

It happened before any of them could react. One second she was there, another second and she wasn’t, replaced by a gaping hole in the floor. Her screams mingled with Five’s who shrieked her nickname—Six. The last thing they heard from Six was, “I’m scared! Help!”

As the floor in the hole closed again, Five collapsed to the floor, sobbing. “It’s...all…my… fault,” she said between hiccups.

Four knelt down beside her, patting her back. “You couldn’t do anything to stop it,” she murmured.

One stepped behind Four and Five, her eyes narrowed at something in her hand. “This says if we try to contact someone from the outside world, we’ll meet the same fate as Six.” She crumpled the note in her hand. “This is stupid. They just want to scare us. We’re going to get out of here. There’s no way we can’t.”

“Thanks for the inspirational speech,” Two said, the sarcasm biting Aurora in the face, even if she wasn’t the one it was directed to. “We’re obviously stuck here. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to die like that.”

“Well, Two, you’re not helping. We either die here, or we die getting out. I’d rather die getting out, but you do you.” She turned to the others. “If you want to find a way out here, come with me. If you wanna just wait until something kills you, you can stay with her,” she said, jerking her head towards Two.

They were already splitting, and they had barely been an hour with each other. Aurora debated which one gave her a better chance of survival. If she stayed put, whoever was behind it would eventually get to her. If she moved, there was a chance she got out, but there was also an increased chance of her dying. She noticed Five had immediately moved to stand next to Two, and Four had soon joined her. Three—or so Aurora assumed she was—came to a decision not long after, joining One.

That left Aurora.

Their stares made her feel slightly uncomfortable. One’s foot was tapping impatiently, while Two looked at her expectantly. Five continued to sniff occasionally, while Four comforted her. Three merely had a large smile on her face.

“I’ll go with One,” she said. Trying to ignore the hurt and bemused look on Two’s face, she moved to stand next to One, who smirked.

“At least you know what you’re doing, Seven,” she said to Aurora, though looking triumphantly at Two. Aurora bit back a retort, not wanting to cause any more issues. “We’ll be going now, losers,” One said, walking out of the kitchen door. Three soon followed, leaving Seven with the other three.

“Well? Get going. If you’re with that nightmare, you have no reason to stay.”

Aurora sighed. “Look...it’s nothing personal, Two. Just...stay safe. All of you.”

All she got for a reply was a bemused stare, a smile, and sniffing. Beginning to feel embarrassed, Aurora scurried out of the kitchen.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry,” Aurora mumbled. “What are we doing now?”

“We’re going to explore the house!” Three said. It was the first time Aurora had heard Three speak. She didn’t know whether to be concerned that Three actually sounded excited. “We should tell each other about everything, because it might be important.”

“Yeah, yeah, great. Where should we go first?”

“There’s a set of footprints in the dust that lead that way,” One said, jerking her head towards a dark corridor. “Maybe Six’s killer came from that way. We should go check it out.”

“Aren’t you guys, I don’t know, scared?” Aurora asked.

One gave her a cold look. “There’s no place for fear, in a time like this. If you’re scared, you can go back to Two and her scaredy-cat group. So man up.” She stalked away from Aurora and Three, the latter of which looked mildly unconcerned.

“She’s probably scared, she just won’t show it,” Three offered. “If that makes you feel any better.”

Aurora shrugged, before looking at Three carefully. “Are you scared?”

She considered the question. “Yes. Yes, I think I am.”

☙

The footprints eventually led to an ornate imperial staircase. Though coated in dust, the old grandeur of the staircase still remained. The ebony wood and the silver lining contrasted well with the red carpet that disappeared around the corner where the staircase began to spiral, whose gold threads still had their glossy appearance. Aurora had never seen a staircase like it.

“Could you stop admiring the thing and come up?” Aurora blinked in surprise. One’s voice sounded so far away. “We’re upstairs, you idiot! I’m giving you ten seconds, unless you want to be left behind.”

Aurora ran up the stairs as fast as she could, coughing as the dust flew into the air. She reached the top, panting, as One finished her countdown. “Finally. We’re going into the master bedroom, where the footprints lead.”

I can see, you know, Aurora thought, as One pushed the door open. As it slowly creaked open, Aurora stifled a scream—on the bed lay Six’s mangled body. The once-white pillow was soaked with red, and there was a gaping, human-sized hole in the ceiling.

“...We know what happened to her now.” Three’s voice shook slightly, but she managed to maintain a straight face. One, on the other hand, looked bewildered.

“How did she fall upstairs? She fell through the floor, but we’re on the level above the kitchen, not the level below. Did someone move her body here and punch a huge hole through the ceiling, or this house seriously messed up?”

“Why are you thinking about that now? You’ve literally just seen a dead body, and right now, you’re worrying about physics? You aren’t at all affected by this, so maybe you’re the one doing all of this!” Aurora herself was surprised by her suggestion, but something told her it was right.

It wasn’t someone outside doing this to them.

It was one of them.

That was almost plausible, until One scoffed. “Are you insane? All of us were in the room, and if anything, Five’s the most suspicious because she was the closest to Six. Except she was being a crybaby, whining around a chair, so there’s no way she could have done it!”

Aurora remained silent. She couldn’t find a fault in that logic, but her gut told her that she was right. She just couldn’t see how.

Three cleared her throat. “Hey, guys...I don’t know if you’re still arguing but come look at this.” Ignoring One, Aurora made her way over to Three, who was standing in front of a vanity table. On it were five vials, each containing a liquid of each color: red, orange, yellow, blue, and clear. A riddle was scratched into the mirror.

Each vial has an effect, Though it can be nothing at all. Two can be used for your benefit Two can bring you your downfall.

Two vials have no power if swallowed Four have no power if touched. One of these liquids will kill you, Another won’t do very much.

Another will bring you some good, Another will rid you of sight. The last potion you can take with you, To poison your foes in a fight.

Mix any two vials and you’ll see The new colour that you expect Be warned, your brand new concoction Has both of potion’s effects

All purple potions will kill you Some green potion contains some good The original orange isn’t neutral But is safe to put in food.

Six mixes make orange potions

And half of them, drank, make one blind

Four of them will certainly kill you

Four can be used in a bind.

“Great,” Aurora groaned. “A logic puzzle. I’m awful at these...do either of you know how to do this?”

“I’ll try,” One said. “You can’t be a general without some brains.”

“You’re a general?” It would be an understatement to say Aurora was surprised. “But you’re only sixteen. You have to be seventeen to join the army.”

“In your world, imbecile. In my world, it’s every girl’s life goal to join the army, while the men sit at home and do all the chores. We’re enrolled when we’re fourteen, and I’m the youngest general in the army.”

“Narcissist, much?” Three muttered, and Aurora stifled a laugh.

One glared at her. “Weakness results in death, where I come from. It’s not arrogance, it’s survival.” Ignoring the look Aurora and Three shared, she proceeded to read the mirror several times, muttering to herself. Her eyes flitted between the various bottles, before picking up the clear potion.

“This is probably it.”

“You positive?” Three asked. “Like, you’re not the greatest person in the world—” she snorted at this “—but I’m human enough that I don’t want you dead.”

“Are you questioning my logical skills?” One snapped back. “It’s a right one, I’ll prove it to you.” She unscrewed the bottle, taking a sip, not drinking the entire thing.

Time seemed to slow down. One’s gaze was unfocused, while both Three and Aurora stared intently at her. The only sound was the grandfather clock ticking, counting off the seconds.

And then One dropped to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Aurora dropped down next to her and tried to turn her over, but sobs escaped from One’s mouth. Her brown eyes had turned a pale grey, which could only mean one thing.

She had drank the wrong vial—the blindness inducing one, in fact.

“No...this can’t be happening,” One screamed. “It’s so dark…”

“You’ll be fine,” Aurora tried saying, rubbing her back. “We’ll fix you…”

“No you can’t!” she shrieked. “I’m scared! I can’t be blind—” Her voice was cut off by some unseen force as she stopped moving. Aurora tried feeling her pulse, but felt nothing.

She was dead.

“Why is she dead, though? The vial was only supposed to cause blindness.” Aurora frowned at the unconcern in Three’s voice, but she had no answer.

“Maybe she was supposed to drink the entire thing? Why are you even asking that? She’s dead, for heaven's sake. Are we now going to inspect her remains?”

Three raised an eyebrow. “Geez, I’m sorry. But it’s not like we even knew her. It’s not like you mourn every person who dies.”

“Yeah, but she just died in front of us! And you’re standing here, looking at her like she’s a specimen, waiting to be torn apart and studied!”

“It’s not my problem that death doesn’t scare me.”

Aurora scoffed. “No, it’s not about fearing death. It’s about—” She began to feel lightheaded as a sweet-smelling, chemical-laden scent tickled her nose. She yawned, her legs giving out under her. She has just enough time to see Three staring at her, wide-eyed, before the world turned dark.

She opened her eyes. What was that about?

Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the blinding light. She stared blearily around the room, attempting to rub her eyes before realizing her arms were chained. She looked down, and realized she was sitting in a white chair, chains of steel keeping her in place.

What…?

There was nothing else in the room. The stark white walls had no windows, save for a small, barred hole in the wall. Aurora wasn’t even sure she was still in the mansion.

A thought struck her. What if she was in a mental asylum, and she had merely imagined the entire scenario? That all the other hers didn’t exist, and that they weren’t being killed off.

“You wish.”

Aurora looked up, startled. “Five,” she asked, “what are you doing here?”

She smirked, which looked strange on her normally frowning expression. “Three of you leaving gave me the perfect opportunity kill my two companions. Two didn’t even put up a proper struggle, for all her talk. Pathetic, really.

“Four was interesting, though. She didn’t seem to believe I was the one behind all of it. All this talk about how I could make myself better—as if I hadn’t already tried.”

Aurora’s mind began racing. How could she get out, while the classic villain rant occurred outside of the room? There had to be a door somewhere, or else she couldn’t be here. But where was it? She moved her eyes slowly around the room, as to not draw attention to herself, and searched for any cracks that could be doors.

“You’re not going to find an exit.” Aurora froze. “You see, this is a very special room.” Five paced outside of the room, careful to keep an eye on Aurora through the bars. “It can become any size I wish it to be. You’re scared of small spaces, right? Well, eventually these walls will come closing in on your. It’s been shrinking ever since we got here. I’ve reserved it especially for you!”

Aurora hadn’t noticed it before, but it was true—the walls were slowly but surely moving closer to her. “You know, I’ll be kind. Let’s play a little game, and then I’ll let you out!”

“What kind of game?” Aurora asked, feeling slightly nauseous.

“Tut, tut, so impatient,” Five said. “Though I suppose you can’t play the game without knowing what it is. You know that riddle that killed my dear One? I made that up! Aren’t I clever.” She chuckled. “I’m about to show you another one, but if you don’t get it right, you’ll meet the same fate as her! And I promise, this riddle has an answer. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Aurora said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Five grinned. “That’s great! If you weren’t ready...I don’t know what would happen. Actually, I do! But it’s the exact same fate you’re going to meet.” Aurora didn’t like the sound of that.

Black letters began appearing on the white walls, eventually forming the riddle she had been talking about.

Left alone, I'm a word with five letters.

I'm honest and fair, I'll admit.

Rearranged, I'm of no use to trains.

Again, and I'm an overt place, warm and well lit.

“Ten minutes!” Five sang. “Starting now!”

Aurora pondered the question. A five letter word that was honest and fair—truth? But rearranging truth was impossible. So she dismissed that word. Maybe equal? Once again, she was pretty sure that equal couldn’t be rearranged.

She began to grow more desperate as Five called out, “Two minutes!” No five-letter words were coming to mind that meant fair or honest.

I promise, this riddle has an answer.

Aurora began to feel her blood boil. “Liar,” she spat. “This riddle has no—”

“Correct!” Five squealed. “Liar is indeed the answer!” The walls came to a halting stop, and she felt both bemused and relieved at the same time.

“But ‘liar’ doesn’t even have five letters!” she protested.

Five giggled. “Silly, this entire riddle is a lie! Liar, rearranged, becomes rail, which is very useful to rains. And rearranged again, it becomes lair, which definitely isn’t warm and well lit! I’m very clever, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aurora said impatiently. “Just let me out already!”

“Oh,” Five said, her voice disturbingly innocent. “I thought you’d figured it out. I was lying when I said I let you out. After all, I am a liar.”

The walls began moving again, and Aurora realized how close they were. Close enough to kill her. “Please,” she begged, abandoning all her pride. “Why are you doing this to me? What did I do to you?”

Five merely laughed. “You existed.” She began to pace once more. “All my life, I’ve tried to be special. There was always someone who was equal to, or even better than me. You’re useless if you’re not the best. The only one. Being mediocre means being neglected.

“You don’t know what it’s like. Coming home with the second best scores in the school, and still not being good enough. I bet you’d be happy with a low A, even a B. I bet you’re parents would fawn over you, and praise you for being such a good student. I would only get that if I was the best. The only one. Second place, even tied first place, that was never an option. I had to be the only one.

“So imagine hearing from my teacher one day that there were alternate realities. That there were other versions of me—possibly even better versions of me. I couldn’t bare that thought. Ms. Min seemed to sympathize though. She agreed that she’d help me if I helped her. So we poured months into learning how to make a portal. How to blend realities.”

The walls were within arms length, but Aurora couldn’t find her voice. She almost felt bad for Five, but the fact she was about to kill her lose any ounce of pity she felt.

“Meanwhile, I began thinking. How would I kill the other me’s. Even though they were lesser than I was, they were still me, in some vague form, and they deserved a special way to die. Then I thought of it—fear. We say there is nothing to fear other than fear itself. That’s rubbish. Everyone fears something.

“One—she feared failure. So what better way to kill her than making her fail? I must confess, I hoped to relieve her of some of that disgusting narcissism, but she held onto it until the end. What a pity. And then there was Two. She feared something pitiful, something material. Needles. Her death wasn’t difficult. I listen to her scream as needle after needle injected carbon dioxide into her body. I think she was glad to go. Three...ah, she was interesting. I don’t think she’s dead right now, but she will be soon. I never understood why people fear blood. It’s in their very bodies. She’ll be glad when it’s out of her system.”

“You mean you bled her out?” Aurora asked, horrified.

Five waved the question away. “Details, details. Besides, wouldn’t you like me to continue my story?”

“Not really,” Aurora mumbled.

“You don’t have a choice,” Five snapped back. “Anyway, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, Four. Ah, I felt kinda bad for her. She was kind to me, you know. She never was patronizing, but...it had to happen. I gave her a quick death—a bullet to the head. It was a pity she feared death. Death is inevitable. Six...she wasn’t supposed to die by falling, but I couldn’t risk her calling the police. I was lucky there was a trap under her, or I would have had to waste a lot of time chasing the rest of your around. And then you...Seven. You know what you fear. You see the end. Any last words?”

“Only three,” Aurora spat. “Go to hell.” The walls closed in, and she only felt a few seconds of bone-crushing pain before the world turned dark.

THE END