TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide, Mental Illness
Wait! Before you read! Check out the interactive story version of "Hangman" here!
If you choose to go on with the story, just know that there are spoilers for the game above.
You sit on your bed, the only light coming from the window, the shades drawn closed. The light comes in still, yellowing the room and casting shadows as you try to keep your self-control, but it’s slipping. You start muttering random words to yourself, hoping that maybe if you do, he won’t come. You become aware of every little detail, and your OCD begins to rise as you notice the spot of chipping paint on the ceiling.
You look around once more before standing on your bed, reaching up to pick at the paint. You stand on your tip toes, reaching as high as you can to try and remove the imperfection. You suddenly feel a pair of hands at your side, and you give a shout as you begin to fall to the floor. Your body hits the cold hardwood, and you immediately curl up.
"Get up," Gabriel says.
You shake your head in fearful defiance.
"Get up or I'll make you," the man hisses, and you finally stand. Gabriel's lips curl up into a sadistic smile.
"Wanna play a game?" he asks, looking over you with an insane look in his eyes.
"What kind of game?" you ask, hoping that this game would be different, and wouldn't end up with you screaming in pain on the floor.
"It's called hangman." Gabriel pulls out a long rope from beneath your bed. "I tie this around your neck, connect it to the fan and you stand on a stool."
"This is different from the game of hangman I've played," you say quietly, to which the man nods.
"My way is much more fun. Now, here are the rules: I'm going to think of a phrase, and you have to guess it letter by letter, until you think you can guess it. If you guess right, you win! But if you guess wrong..." Gabriel leans in close, placing the rope in your hands. "I win." His smile is twisted, inhuman, and you have to force yourself to look away.
"For every letter you guess wrong, I pull the stool out an inch. If you don't guess the phrase in time, you swing." The man explains the rule slowly, making sure that you understand. "Got it?"
You nod to signal you understand. Gabriel helps you tie the rope, and stands you straight up on the stool, connecting the rope to the ceiling fan. He grabs a pen and paper, mulling the phrase over, before sketching it out.
"The topic is, places." He shows the piece of paper, four dashes, a space, and then another four. "Start guessing."
"A," you choke out, and the man smiles, before shifting the stool with his foot an inch.
"Again."
"O!" You say with a tremble in your voice. Gabriel's smile falters a bit as he wrote the letter down, second dash.
"One down, seven to go."
"L?" Another push.
"R!" Fourth dash.
"U." You feel a tear escape your eye, you’re shaking. Third dash. The first word was almost completed. You began to feel a bit more confident with your answers. "Y,” you mutter, and Gabriel made a grunt as he wrote down the final letter of the first word.
Your.
Your mind searches for any possible way to complete the phrase. "H." You guess, and Gabriel gladly shoves the stool. You feel your footing begin to falter.
"I don't want to play anymore," you say quietly.
"You're going to play!" Gabriel barks, standing from his place on the floor and placing his foot on the stool, poised to kick it out completely from under you. "Or I win by default."
"I!" You cry out, and the man picks up the paper, marking down the letter, fifth dash.
"Keep going."
"W-w." You stutter on the letter, and the stool shifts with a satisfactory squeak. You only have one foot on the stool now.
"M, please m, please." You begin to cry; Gabriel smiles at your tears, and puts down the letter, first dash.
"Two more to go, you may just win." His voice is light, but you know better. Gabriel hates to lose.
"D." You choke out, and the man grits his teeth, writing down the letter on the last line.
"Wanna take a guess? Make this a hell of a lot quicker?" Gabriel asks, showing the piece of paper to you. His breath reeks and, you feel yourself get a little dizzy, but you can just barely make out the words.
You shout out the phrase before Gabriel can move the stool any more.
"Your mind! It's your mind!" you scream, shutting your eyes tightly and waiting for the stool to go flying. Instead, you feel the rope loosen, and you open your eyes to see that you’re alone in the room, the paper still on the floor. You get down from the stool, and pick it up. It’s blank except for the phrase, Your Mind. You see something scrawled out beneath it, probably as some sort of “clue,” My favorite place to be.
