a group mystery verse.

Honestly, Noah was glad that Zara had come to his room earlier – at least there was one fight less now, and the idea of teaming up seemed logical as well. Groups of up to three people – yeah, Noah had to admit, that way they would be safer, or so he hoped, anyway.

Maybe, after Eileen and Mike, there wouldn’t be a third victim. That was what they had to believe in – that things would be alright, without anyone else being murdered.

Still … as much as Noah wanted them to stick together and keep each other safe … One of them was a killer, whether they wanted to entertain that thought or not. One of them was, possibly, just waiting for another opportunity to kill, and not knowing who it was … it was the scariest part, really. The lack of control. The lack of knowledge. There were a few people Noah could rule out, or so he thought, anyway, but …

Either way, if they teamed up and remained in groups of three people, two of them should definitely be innocent, right? Zara was currently informing everyone of the meeting, well, everyone but Shelby, anyway. So, that was where Noah was heading to – Shelby’s room, hoping to find the girl there so he could pick her up and get her to come to the lounge with him.

What Noah hadn’t expected, though? To be confronted with another listless body , sprawled at the bottom of the stairs.

Noah felt his blood run cold, and before he could even sort through his dumbfounded mind, he had fallen to his knees by Mark’s side.

“Mark! Mark, wake up! Shit .. Shit, wake up!”

His hands were about to touch the man’s form, fingers reaching to turn him around so he could inspect his face. But .. Shit, if Mark had hurt his neck in any way or form, chances were Noah would only make it worse by moving him.

“Mark, can you hear me?!”

No response. His heart was racing, pounding against his ribcage, blood pumping through his veins and filling him with sickening dread. No. No, no, no, not another one, not Mark. Mike had just died mere hours ago and for a few seconds Noah couldn’t help but think that the killer was either panicking and therefore murdering more people in a shorter time,   growing impatient, or increasingly bolder.

Noah wanted to believe that maybe, maybe Mark had simply stumbled and crashed down the stairs, but at this point that seemed like a ridiculous coincidence. Hovering over his body, Noah’s hands were touching him ever so carefully. It wasn’t until he reached for his cheek in an attempt to get a proper look at his face that he noticed something else altogether – Mark hadn’t just fallen down the stairs, but there were marks around his neck, painted in an angry red.

He had been choked. This hadn’t been an accident – Mark had been pushed and strangled.

“Fuck … Fuck … Mark …”

As it seemed, Zara’s plan to get everyone to stay close to one another had come too late.

@peaceific & @latiimer.

Dear Bethy,

I love you so much. So so much.

I hope to god that you never have to read this, but after everything else that has happened these past couple of days I had to do this. If When Sally has done what I’ve asked her and she made it out then thank her for me. She’sone of the only person I can trust in this place and you can trust her too.

I know you kept pestering me about a will and I never did anything about it. What’s mine is yours. It always has been Beth. Do what you want with it all. I won’t know. Do what you have to do to keep going. Just stay safe for me. Chloe needs one of us and it has to be you since I’m not coming home.

Tell Chloe that I love her zillions and I’ll always be there watching out for her. I don’t know how you’ll explain it to her but I know you can do it. You’re a greamazing mum even if I don’t say it enough. There isn’t anyone else I’d trust with her like I do you. Hopefully everything of mine will come back as well including her toy lamb. Tell Chlo that he’ll always be there to keep her safe and she has to be a big girl now for me. I’m always thinking about her now and you too.

You have to be strong now Bethy. So so strong. Not just for you but Chlo and the new bab

The sound of shuffling outside of Shelby’s room brought Mark’s attention away from the page of written words before him. To his knowledge, everyone else was downstairs, except Sally who was in her room where he’d last seen her.

Setting the pad of paper and pen aside, he rose to his feet, holding out a hand towards Shelby to stay where she was. He said nothing as he stepped towards the door, head peeking out both ways before he stepped out.

“Sally?” he called, head twisted in the direction of her room. The hallway was empty. Standing entirely still, he could only hear the sound of his heartbeat in his ears as he waited. Waiting for the shuffling sound to come once more.

When it did not, he turned his attention to the stairs, heading towards the top step. Had he been imagining things? Had it been his mind, still in a panic, which had pretended to hear the sound of someone creeping outside the door?

A hand rested on the bannister, tilting his body to the side just enough to see down below. No one.

He doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him, muffled by the sound of carpet under their feet. Just as he is about to turn around, if only he’d done so a second before, he may have been able to keep his balance as two hands shoved him hard in the back. Standing on the edge of the top step, he does not stand a chance as his body was propelled forward by the force of the hands on his back.

Instinctively his hand grabbed for the bannister his hand had been resting on only a second before, however, it was too late as he lost his balance and fell forward. Eyes close as Mark tumbled, arms, knees, elbows, and legs hitting the stairs with hard hits as he unwillingly fell. Hands attempt to grasp for something, anything, to stop his fall, but there is nothing. He is going down too quickly.

Not too far from the bottom, he felt the hard crack as the back of his head became the next victim to the stairs. The pain shot through his entire body, from head to toe as he finally came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. His mind is foggy where he is, a crumpled heap at the base of the steps he had just fallen down.

Pain is everywhere, Mark letting out a muffled groan as a hand attempted to form itself into a claw to drag himself across the floor. In the back of his mind he knew, but with the little energy he had, knew he had to move.

He doesn’t move.

Darkness is coming closer, tugging him away from the real word, away from the pain.

The thought of Shelby and Sally crossed his thoughts just before his mind faded to black. Shelby, who he was supposed to be looking after. Sally, who reminded him of his daughter.

Chloe…

His breathing evened out, hand loosening from the pathetic claw it had attempted to make.

He doesn’t hear the footsteps coming down the stairs for him.

Mike not being upstairs caused immediate alarm; Sally tried to make sure everyone was in a similar spot, but when Mike left, she knew immediately, and didn’t even go to see if anyone else was gone. She headed downstairs, trying not to panic herself, in search for him.

“Mike?” She called out. “Mike, are you down here?” She called out again. “Are you with someone? You shouldn’t be–”

There’s RED. It’s liquid. It’s sticky. It smells. Sally’s heart stopped for too long, nearly causing herself to collapse. She lost all color in her face. “No…” She breathed. “No, no–”

Mike was laying on the cool ground, nearly drowning in his own blood. “MIKE–!” Her scream curdled Mike’s blood that she ran through to get to him, her knees pounding against the ground and splashing the blood into her pants. “Mike, no! Mike!” She grabbed onto his soggy shirt and shook him. “Mike, Mike!” Her hand patted his cheek, harder and harder and harder.

“SOMEONE HELP!” She screamed again, not taking her eyes off of the dead body in her hands.

“MIKE, WAKE UP!” She called. “Mike! MIKE! You said you wouldn’t die – you PROMISED ME!” By now she can’t see; her vision blurred and tears came out like a waterfall down her cheeks, soaking her shirt.

“MIKE, YOU PROMISED ME! MIKE!”

He doesn’t move. She doesn’t stop sobbing. She picked up his head and pressed it to her bosom. Her head laid atop his, trying to protect him.

From what? He was already gone.

“…You promised…”

@cxrrera.

The second body has been found. It is now obvious that whoever killed Eileen was not only after her. The Day Three chatzy is closed, and the Day Four is now open. Feel free to post summaries of any interesting events or plot twists of Day Three in the ic tag, but for now, Day Four takes precedence.

Mike stares down at the coffee, stirring creamer into the cup. He watches as the cream brightens the dark coffee, and he contemplates adding sugar. One, maybe two… He reaches for the packets, tears them open, pours in the sugar…

It’s quiet in the house; everyone’s upstairs trying not to talk to each other in case of another shouting match, and he knows he probably shouldn’t have gone off to get coffee on his own, but he’s just so tired. Caffeine is the only reason he’s making it through the day, and he’s on what feels like maybe twelve hours of sleep.

But he has to press on, which is why coffee. And besides, he can’t just sit there anymore. Everyone is at everyone else’s throats and the thought of having to suspect one of the people in the house is just… it’s a horrible thought that he doesn’t even want to have to consider.

He’s about to pick up the cup when he hears the sound of footsteps behind him. “You want coffee?” he asks, not turning around to look for the source of the noise.

Mistake. He might have been able to fight them off if he’d turned.

The next thing he knows is pain, white hot pain, and he lets out a cry. There’s something in his back, just above his waist, and it hurts so badly. There’s someone standing right behind him. He can feel the presence of their body there, can feel the heat of their breath on his neck, and he moves to reach for them when the pain twists suddenly and Mike’s vision goes black around the edges.

His knees buckle and he collapses to the floor, his head slamming against the tile. White sparks flash in front of his eyes. With a groan of pain, he lays there on the ground, motionless.

He feels hot and cold and pain and numbness all at once, and through the haze of pain he realizes that he probably shouldn’t be feeling all four things at the same time, that it’s not possible. He tries to reach for his back with weak, shaking hands, and feels the hilt of a knife lodged deep in the small of his back. He can’t pull it out; he knows not to, that it would only make it worse, but his strength disappeared as soon as the knife had gone in.

He has to tell the others. He needs to warn them. Mike moves to get up… but he can’t. His legs won’t work. His legs won’t work, oh god, his legs…

The pool of blood is growing. His breathing is becoming more and more erratic, and with the last bits of energy that he’s got left he tries to let out a shout, in order to warn the others… tell them who it is…

But as he turns his head slowly, trying to squint through the darkness to see who it was who’d stabbed him, all he sees is the form of a figure hurrying away towards the deepest of the black.

When had it gotten so dark out? The lights were on five minutes ago…

If he just rests his head on the floor, maybe it’ll hurt less…

The blood pooling around his face is so warm…

Sally… his parents…

He’s so… so very… tired…

okay, a few things for you all to know!

please feel free to make use of the ooc tag to talk with each other, set up times to be in the chatzies, and comment on activity in the verse! it’s not just for me to ramble at you all, i promise.

please notify me of any big relationship/plot twists, or post something about it either here or in the ic tag.

i’m considering starting a skype group for the group (one ic, one ooc). if you’re interested, drop an ask to this blog with your skype username, an if you already have me on skype, just let me know there!

i haven’t been around and i know it’s not fair, and for that i apologize. i’ve been working my arse off, but for now, i’ve got a bit of free time. i’m going to notify the next victim soon, but for now, keep interacting. i promise i’m trying to get shit done in this verse.

Mike Warren: Mike carries a caraffe of coffee in one hand, the other holding the bottom of it. There’s a substantial amount of coffee in there, Shelby’s way of apologizing for making poor Eileen stay overnight in the supposedly haunted North Wing of the lodge.

“I dunno, hate is a pretty strong word,” Mike says as they walk along the corridor. His head throbs with each step, and he’s partially hoping that Eileen offers to let them stay and have coffee with her. The kitchen, and his slowly cooling mug of coffee on the table, seem so far away. But still, he feels a little bad that they’d isolated Eileen all night, so. This is the least he can do.

Shelby Wyatt: "It's also a real possibility, and we're stuck here for a while." Shelby takes a moment to juggle the tray in her hands, settling for propping it between her hip and the wall, steadied with one hand as the other fumbles the keys into the lock on the door. "Eileen?? Morning, hon! We bring coffee and...apologies." She wasn't looking into the room, but rather at the tray as the door swung open, revealing the interior.

Mike Warren: Mike isn’t staring at the tray. He’s instead looking at Shelby’s hand, watching her unlock the door. His eyes lift, expecting to see Eileen ready and waiting to get the hell out of there. Instead…

He drops the plastic caraffe, barely registering the crack as it shatters and the heat as the steaming coffee splashes up and over his pajama pants.

Shelby Wyatt: The impact of the carafe with the ground catches Shelby's attention, a yelp escaping her as the coffee splashes against her legs. "Mike, what--?" She looks up, into the room, and the tray follows the coffee, crashing to the ground as she leaps forward. "Eileen?!"

Mike Warren: “Oh my god, Shelby, what do we do?” Mike hurries forward, stepping over the dropped food and coffee, but stops short. “Is she… is she dead?” The last word is whispered and his voice is quiet, though it seems loud in the utter silence of the bedroom.

“How—“ There’s blood, there’s so much blood, and his throat is dry.

Shelby Wyatt: Shelby felt as if her lungs were filled with cotton. Eileen - beautiful Eileen - was lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood, what looked like a kitchen knife sticking out of her stomach. Shelby felt sick, like the floor was moving underneath her. "...oh my god."

Mike Warren: "What do we do?" Mike repeats, his voice weak. "We can't -- this -- " He's taken enough criminal justice courses to know that they can't touch her, because either this is some sick form of suicide, or it's...

"Someone did this to her...?"

Shelby Wyatt: "FUCK." The word is pronounced too loudly for the solemn air in the room, but it's all Shelby can manage before she turns aside and promptly vomits over the carpet. It's only when she can breathe regularly again that she looks back at Mike, avoiding the grisly sight on the floor. "I - I don't know. Mike, I don't know. She's dead. She's dead, mike, I sent her in here and SOMEONE KILLED HER!" She's yelling now, practically screaming, tears suddenly flooding down her cheeks. God. She didn't know what to do, how to handle this. 22 years of life didn't prepare anyone for this.

Mike Warren: Mike's hands are shaking at his sides, but he manages to keep a calmer exterior. He doesn't know what to say, especially when Shelby starts crying. His own eyes are dry, but he recognizes the lump in his throat all the same. This is the first dead body he's ever seen; crime scene photos are nothing compared to this.

And then a thought forms in his mind, crystallizing like ice on the panes outside. "Someone killed her..." His voice is soft in contrast to Shelby's shout. "We have to warn the others, what if this maniac is still out there...?"

Shelby Wyatt: Her breath catches in her throat; her eyes widen. He's right, she can't believe that Eileen would do this to herself, but that means...

"But -- but we're trapped inside. It's..." A whisper. "It's one of us."

Eileen hadn’t participated in the poker game. She didn’t know how to, so instead she opted on reading a book. Of course she had still watched the game, seeing people getting naked was one of her favorite things to see after all. Especially seeing Zara naked, she had liked the girl since a while now and seeing her here, up and close, she might have developed a little crush on the outgoing brunette.

Hearing the story, the hairs on her arms stood up and a shiver went down her spine. Which was weird, the Irish girl wasn’t one to get scared easily, but just knowing that it had happened here and it was more then just a horror story got to her. A vote, she heard her name being called a few times, together with two other names it became a tie between them. The last vote and again her name was being called. Fuck, she thought to herself, she could always decline, but she would be seen as the coward of the group and that was not done. Slowly she looked around the group and acted cool, like it didn’t bother her. She shrugged, before asking, “When should I go?”

It was time, her feet felt heavy. A few of them went with her to make sure she was going in and to lock the door behind her. She laughed at them and kissed Zara on her lips. “For good luck,” she said with a wink, a last small wave and she went into the room with her pillow tucked under her arm. She heard the lock click into place. Eileen looked around, trying to get a feel for the room and seeing where she could get comfortable. She looked outside, laid down on the bed, walked around again. It was difficult for her to relax, she was absolutely certain that she wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.

As she stood by the window, gazing out, she heard a noise behind her. Eileen turned around rapidly and saw a figure standing there. She tried to scream, but the other had their hand over her mouth, so instead of a scream came out a muffled cry for help. All of a sudden she felt a sharp pain between her ribs, her hands instantly went towards it, to feel the knife inside of her. Tears welled up in her eyes, a muffled scream was given into the hand that covered it, while she started jerking, she needed to get away, Eileen needed to get out of this room, but the other person was too strong and she already felt her life leaving her by every drop of blood that fell on the floor.

With a last surge of adrenaline she pushed her attacker away and freed herself only to fall on the floor because of the loss of blood. Eileen closed her eyes, she was tired, oh so tired and she thought of home, of the beaches she had roamed so often, she kept her thoughts on that while she slowly stopped breathing.