Dark II

By T.B. Grubb

The suspense continues . . . Now, only five out of the six remain. Thought to have finally escaped this nightmare, they still find themselves stuck in this experiment. Still stuck in the dark. Still controlled by this phantom voice that is growing more and more sinister and dangerous. Now, no one knows what

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Nov 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9798822900455

T.B. Grubb

T.B. Grubb published her first book at the age of fifteen. Her writing allows her to bring her thoughts and imagination to life with characters and worlds. When not penning stories, T.B. enjoys art, film, reading, and anything creative.

Book preview

LIZZIE

Chapter 1

I lay on the soft cushion of a mattress with warm blankets on top.

It feels familiar. Safe.

It’s the moment in the morning right before the previous day rises back to the surface.

The only moment where there is peace.

A very short moment.

I shoot up, heart beginning to pound, my eyes bouncing off everything I spot.

I can see. My eyes can see!

No more tricks and images or digital chips controlling our sight. It’s the real thing this time!

I look around to take in my surroundings. A small bedroom, messy just as I left it. A desk tucked in a corner with books stacked high. Photos and painting across the walls. A sorry excuse for a shelf nearly falling apart by the weight of more books.

I’m back to my life! I’m back to my life!

Everything is back to normal!

But it isn’t.

I can’t forget what happened to me.

What has changed for me.

What I saw.

The relief fades away into dread.

Why did I feel like this? I know there’s nothing I could do to change what had happen, yet I still feel awful.

Is it because it did happen?

But I wanted it to happen though. I had almost done it.

I should be glad Neal is dead.

I should be jumping up in down in excitement!

But I’m not… and that seems strange. This confusion is upsetting me. These emotions are only messing with my head even more.

What is wrong with me?

Is this some kind of PTSD?

I need to clear my head and get some fresh air. Maybe some time in sun light will fix this. Hopefully.

I slowly move out of my bed then stretch out the tightness in my shoulders.

I realize I’m still wearing the same clothes from… that time, and I feel disgusted.

These clothes were ruined the moment I was put into that room. Their feeling has been poisoned by those memories.

And…

I think I can smell a hint of blood.

It feels wrong.

I change as quickly as possible, a plain grey top and blue jeans, then toss the old clothes in the trash. I would do more, but I don’t want to face the trouble of setting a fire inside my room.

I walk over to the bedroom door and take a moment to breathe. This would be my first step back into the real world. With real people watching.

But why would they watch?

They know nothing.

But that is the exact reason I want them to watch.

To know.

I take another breath for good measure.

Grab the handle.

I really need to work on this hesitation problem. It’ll do me no good if I hide here for the rest of my life.

I turn the handle.

One more step.

This is silly, right? Why was I so scared to open a door? It’s just a door!

It means nothing!

No one cares what I do when I walk out of here, so why should I?

With that small bit of rage, I pulled on the door handle.

Nothing.

It didn’t move.

I pulled again. And again. And again. And again.

Again.

Again!

Again!

AGAIN!

I banged on the door. Pounded until my fists turned red.

I stumbled away.

No. No. NO! I yelled.

This can’t be happening!

I can’t be here again!

No more!

Help! I screamed with all my lungs. Someone help me!

No help came.

And no help would.

I’m still trapped.

Nothing has changed.

I gathered up all my strength and for one final attack, I punched the door.

Not even a dent.

TREVOR

Chapter 2

I roll over, slowly coming back to my senses, when I realize I’m waking up.

In another place.

But it’s different.

No, not different. Familiar.

As soon as I understand where I am, I open my eyes as quickly as possible, making sure that I was right.

I released a sigh when I saw my dirty apartment around me. I sit up on the couch a thin blanket over me.

Trash is still all over the place, books laid about, and photo frames knocked down.

Just the way I left it.

Wait.

The memories start flooding back and those calming moment disappeared.

And were replaced by anger.

Kidnapped.

Darkness.

Fear.

Torture.

Death.

That anger fueled me to get up, and I knocked over a dirty plate from the coffee table in my rush.

I know I should be calm, I can’t be reckless, but I’m set on putting this voice-guy away.

I won’t stop hunting him down until he’s behind bars.

I’ll make sure he understands what being trapped in darkness feels like.

I head over to the kitchen counter where my phone was. Beside it was another knocked over frame.

I pick it up to see my daughter’s smiling face along with my close friends from the force.

There’s Tim, he’s smiling too.

I remember when this was taken. It was before it happened, though not too long before.

Like the moment before a tragic accident.

Right before the glass cracks into millions of pieces, separating the important connections.

Then I drifted away.

I’ve heard after a traumatic experience you should talk with people. Find help until you’re able to move on.

But I didn’t listen to that.

Karla, my ex-wife, left me and took Sofie with her. Sofie didn’t have a say in whether she stayed with me, and I didn’t fight for her to. I thought she would be better off with Karla. It seemed to have worked out.

I quit my job. Left my friends on the force.

I haven’t reached out and neither did they. That must mean they don’t care to talk with me, right?

I sat the photo back down, but this time, I placed it upright.

I want to change all of that.

I want to change who I am.

For the better of myself and everyone I knew.

I pick up my phone and look through my contacts until I find Tim’s. He’ll help me.

He’ll believe me.

The phone starts dialing.

Then it stops.

The number you are trying to reach is not in service at this time. Please redial or try again later. The automated voice replied.

Odd. Very odd.

I call another person, Karla, and I get the same message.

Very, very odd.

Maybe I’m just not getting service in my room. There has to be a logical explanation.

Even if…

I head over to the door with my phone and unlock it.

But when I push it open, nothing moves.

I push harder.

Nothing.

I slam my shoulder into it.

Nothing.

I kick the door.

Nothing!

What the… I muttered.

Wait.

No.

This isn’t happening.

This can’t be happening!

Hey! I shouted at the ceiling. I know it’s you! Let me out!

There was no response.

Why would there be.

It’s a lying sociopath. I can’t expect anything good from that.

I glance around the room and my anger turns to fear. Everything here is the exact same as my apartment. Down to the trash. Down to my stuff. Down to my photos.

That fact is far scarier than me still being trapped.

DEAN

Chapter 3

I laid in a soft, cushioned bed with a large blanket on top. I know this place. This is the place I should have woken up in.

Not that dark, concrete room.

I kept my eyes closed, as if that would make me go back to sleep. I wished the blissful ignorance of just waking up would stay with me, but the longer my eyes were closed, the more the memories of that dark room came back to me.

That pain I had felt.

Those guns.

I had almost died.

Neal did die.

Amy had killed him.

There was hardly any time to process what had happened before gas filled the room-

Ow!

I reached for my head where a band-aid was placed. I must have fallen when I passed out.

How nice of them to patch me up. I scoffed at that thought and ripped the