The Housemates: A Novel of Extreme Terror Read online

  Since then the housemates had huddled together on the large sofa, afraid to separate. Jules had snuggled up against Damien and he had let her, understanding the woman’s need for comfort. He needed it himself.

  Now that the sun was rising and a new day approached, Damien felt afraid for the first time in years. Would they still be forced to continue with this sick and twisted game now that they were no longer willing? Would there be more tasks and more votes? Would he have more to worry about more than a wounded eye?

  Now that he’d had a few hours’ sleep, his eye had almost returned to normal. It was sensitive and weepy, but the pain was mostly gone and he could see through it again. He’d been worried for a while and was glad to have his full sight back. He could think of nothing worse than losing his sight, or even just part of it. But, now that it was clear it would be okay, there were other things to worry about.

  We need to find a way out of here.

  First I need to find out why we’re even here, though. This isn’t just random bad luck. Chris was killed in revenge by someone who knew him. The old man wanted him here.

  Is this all just one big grudge?

  But who would have a grudge against me?

  Damien’s mind was reeling. While he had not always lived a good life – far from it in fact – he considered himself to be a good man. Any enemies that he had were deeply buried in his past, and that’s where they should stay.

  But sometimes forgotten enemies are the ones who bite hardest.

  There was no one that came to Damien’s mind as a likely perpetrator for his recent predicament, so he decided to focus on other things for the time being – and right now that was food. If he and the other housemates were going to have any chance of getting through the next seven days, they would need their strength. They would all think more clearly with food in their belly.

  Damien pulled himself up off the sofa and padded quietly to the kitchen. No one else was awake yet due, once again, to the fact that they had all drank too much. Now, more than ever, Damien was glad for his sobriety. Anything could happen inside this house and he wanted to be ready for it – not drunk and in denial.

  They’re acting like if they just get drunk enough it will all go away.

  They need to get their heads out of their arses.

  Damien headed over to the kitchen cabinets and pulled out some boxes of cereal. He lined up a handful of bowls and began pouring in the corn flakes. He finished it off with a pint of milk from the fridge. He had expected to eat alone, but Danni woke up and joined him.

  She took the stool next to him at the counter and grabbed one of the bowls of cereals. Damien handed her a spoon.

  “Get any sleep?” he asked while adjusting his collar to get at an itch.

  “A little bit. It’s not very easy to relax right now, you know?”

  “You don’t have to tell me.” He took in a mouthful of cereal and suddenly considered it strange that his tormentors had even bothered to provide fresh food and drink. If they were all in the house to be killed, what did it matter if they were fed or not?

  “You think they’ll make us do another task later?”

  Damien nodded. “I think this whole thing has been set up to punish us. I felt the poison in my wrists. It was real. These people aren’t playing around. I can only imagine the planning and cost that would have gone into keeping us all here.”

  Danni nodded, stared into her cornflakes and mixed them around with her spoon. “So you think we’re pretty much screwed then?”

  Damien swallowed a lump in his throat and sighed. “I really don’t know, but I don’t intend on giving up. Once everyone is awake, we’ll keep trying and find a way out. There must be something we can do.”

  “I hope so, because I don’t want to die here. I didn’t want Chris to die either, even with what he’d done in his past.”

  Damien looked at her for a moment and felt his mind wander. “You mean that man he killed at the train station?”

  Danni nodded.

  “I was thinking about that. It was obvious the old man wanted revenge. That was why Chris was here. You think that’s why we’re all here?”

  She looked at him as though she wasn’t following. Her dark eyes went narrow. “What? You mean we’re all here because someone wants revenge against us?”

  “Yes.”

  “In that case, what are you guilty of?”

  Damien thought about it for a moment, scanning back through the mental filing cabinet of his past memories. “I’m guilty of a lot of things,” he admitted. “But nothing that I deserve to die for. If somebody thinks any different then I intend to meet them face to face so I can find out why.”

  “Well,” said Danni. “All I’m worried about right now is not getting voted for. I don’t know what I’ll do if I have to do a head to head elimination like you did last night. I’ll be as good as dead.”

  Damien placed a hand on her arm. He didn’t want her to be afraid. She would be better off focusing on the present. “You’ll be fine,” he said to her. “We can all surprise ourselves when our backs are up against the wall. We’ll find a way out of this, I promise.”

  Danni smiled at him, but there were tears glistening in her eyes. “Partners?” she said.

  Damien nodded. “Partners.”

  2

  Everybody gathered in the garden. They seemed to feel less trapped out there; like they were somehow freer if they could keep the open sky in their view. It was a little warmer today and the sun gave off a sliver of warmth.

  The large camera above the staring eye kept watch on them all.

  Damien knew that the real reason they were all gathered together in a group was because they were waiting for whatever came next. They knew that the nightmare was not yet over – only just beginning in fact – and they were all dreading the sound of The Landlord’s voice.

  I wonder who he is. Is he a maniac? Or does he have a motive for what he’s doing to us?

  Damien looked up at the grey sky and put the time at about mid-day. That was when the booming voice they had all been waiting for finally came over the speakers.

  “HOUSEMATES, PREPARE FOR TODAY’S TASK. IT WILL COMMENCE IN FIVE MINUTES.”

  “Oh God,” said Jules. “Oh God, Oh God.”

  “Just calm down,” Jade chided her. “I’m not going to have you fucking this up.”

  “Fucking this up? What am I doing?”

  “Nothing,” said Jade. “But if you end up on my team, I won’t have you freaking out and losing me the task.”

  “Just back off Jade,” Damien warned. “None of us are the enemy here.”

  “No,” said Jade. “You’re just the competition; only now the prize is getting out of here alive.”

  “None of us is getting out of here alive,” said Alex. “We’re as screwed as a kid at Gary Glitter day care.”

  “Just be quiet,” said Tracey. “You’re not helping anyone by stating the obvious.”

  Their bickering was interrupted by a motorised whirring. The hidden platform in the garden – the one that had contained glass compartments yesterday – was rising up out of the ground again. This time it did not contain glass containers. It contained a metal table with several sets of pliers. There must have been some sort of preparation area below where someone was able to change around the equipment on the platform.

  “HOUSEMATES, YESTERDAY CHRIS WAS ELIMINATED FROM THE COMPETITION. THE PRIZE MONEY OF TWO MILLION POUNDS IS STILL UP FOR GRABS. NOW MORE THAN EVER YOU MUST PARTICIPATE IN THE TASKS AHEAD. YOU ARE COMPETING NOT ONLY FOR THE MONEY BUT FOR YOUR LIVES.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Jules shouted at the raised platform as it were a conscious being. “Why are you doing this to us?”

  “BECAUSE YOU DESERVE IT. EACH OF YOU HAS WRECKED LIVES IN PURSUIT OF YOUR OWN SELFISH DESIRES. YOUR SINS WILL BE EXPOSED. YOUR ONLY SALVATION WILL BE BY SURVIVING UNTIL THE END. ONLY THROUGH THE BLOOD OF YOUR COMPETITORS WILL YOU FIND ABSOLUTION.”

  “This is in
sane,” said Alex. “You’ll pay for this, whoever the hell you are.”

  “I AM NO ONE. I AM JUST A FACILITATOR FOR JUSTICE, A SERVANT OF THE SCALES.”

  “You call this justice?” said Damien. He had heard enough. “I’ve spent the last years of my life helping people and giving to charity. You think you are just by trying to kill me? I am guilty of nothing.”

  “ALL ARE GUILTY. YOUR ACCUSERS ARE REAL. YOU WILL PERFORM THE TASKS. THE ELIMINATIONS WILL CONTINUE.”

  “Screw you,” Damien said. He sat down on the floor and crossed his arms. “I won’t play your sick games. Poison me if you have to, but I promise you I will die with a clean conscience.”

  “YOUR OBEDIENCE IS NOT REQUIRED IN THE TASK TO FOLLOW, HOUSEMATE DAMIEN. THOSE WHO SUCCESFULLY COMPLETE THE FORTHCOMING INSTRUCTIONS WILL WIN IMMUNITY FROM TONIGHT’S VOTE. THEIR LIVES WILL BE PROTECTED FOR ONE MORE DAY.”

  Damien remained seated on the floor. He was not going to be a puppet. Whoever was behind all of this would undoubtedly kill them all anyway, so why play along? If he was going to die, he would rather it be sooner than later.

  “HOUSEMATES, YOUR TASK IS AS FOLLOWS. PICK UP THE PLIERS ON THE TABLE BEFORE YOU. REMOVE THREE FINGERNAILS. DO THIS AND YOU WILL BE SAFE FOR ANOTHER DAY. FAIL AND YOU RISK BEING PLACED IN TONIGHT’S HEAD TO HEAD ELIMINATION.”

  Everybody let out a groan as they digested what they had just been asked to do. Jules looked like she might vomit and had gone deathly pale.

  Damien stood up and went over to her. He placed an arm around her trembling shoulders. “Come on,” he said. “Sit down on the ground with me and take some deep breaths. You’ll end up panicking otherwise.”

  Jules nodded and did as she was told, sitting on the grass. “Would you blame me for panicking?” she said. “This is a nightmare.”

  Damien looked her in the eyes and made sure he held her gaze before speaking. “No. This isn’t a nightmare. This is just the sick game of a psychopath. The less we cooperate, the less power he has. Don’t make the mistake of thinking he is anything more than a man.”

  “He might be just a man,” Jade said. “But right now he’s giving us no choice. I’m not going to die in here.” She marched forward, over to the table on the platform. She picked up a pair of pliers and turned around to face the group. Her chest heaved in and out as she took several deep breaths.

  Then she placed the pliers against her little finger and clamped down hard. She grunted, yanked and twisted, then let out a sharp yell as her manicured fingernail tore away from the sticky flesh of her nail bed.

  She screamed. “SHIIIITTTBALLS! Wow…that hurt like a mother!”

  “You need to pull two more,” said Alex, wincing as Jade held her bloody nail up in the nose of the pliers.

  Jade took a few more deep breaths, seemed to mumble something under her breath, and then quickly clamped down on her engagement finger. She tore the nail free quickly and growled with the pain. A series of dry heaves took over her and she had to take deep breaths to keep from vomiting. She was sweating badly. Agony etched itself into the lines of her face.

  The final nail Jade tore free was from her middle finger. She screamed again, louder than ever. It looked like she might pass out, but instead she put down the pliers and simply said, “I’m going to go get a drink.”

  “JADE IS IMMUNE FROM THIS EVENING’S VOTE. CONGRATULATIONS, HOUSEMATE.”

  “Bite me,” she said as she left the garden on wobbly legs.

  Damien remained sitting on the floor with Jules. She was leaning up against him now and trembling.

  “I’ll go next,” said Alex.

  “I think I can do it, too,” said Richard. “Especially if a bird managed it.”

  Damien watched as the two men got to work with the pliers. They hissed and cursed as they tore their nails loose from their fingertips. They immediately grew pale and looked near to passing out. If anything, the two men seemed to find the task much harder than Jade had. They were close to tears by the time they were done. Alex’s nose dripped snot and his eyes streamed tears.

  “ALEX AND RICHARD ARE IMMUNE TO TONIGHT’S VOTE. CONGRATULATIONS.”

  “Think that drink sounded like a good idea,” said Alex. “Come on, mate.”

  The two of them went after Jade. The relief of the task being completed was clear on their faces. They could relax now, at least for the next twenty-four hours.

  Damien looked around at the other remaining housemates. Lewis and Sarah and Tracey were in a huddle and discussing something between themselves. It didn’t seem like they had any intention of using the pliers. The same seemed true of Patrick, who walked off without a word and re-entered the house. Catherine went right behind him.

  That just left Danni, Damien, and Jules. Danni looked down at Damien on the floor and smiled. “I’m with you. If I’m going to get tortured and killed, the last thing I’m going to do is make it easy for them.

  “Oh, God,” said Jules. “They’re going to vote for me. I’m going to end up having to do something even worse, like Chris had to. I’m going to die.”

  “Calm down,” said Damien. “We’re all going to stick together and get through this.”

  Jules pulled away from him. “No, we’re not. The maximum number of people that can get through this thing alive is two – and that’s only if they split the prize money. There’re three of us here right now, so at least one of us – but probably all of us – is going to end up dead. I’m weak. I won’t make it.”

  “Just calm down.”

  Jules sprung to her feet. “No! I can’t go in a head to head elimination. I can’t!”

  She ran over to the table and picked up a pair of pliers. Damien got to his feet and followed after her, although he kept his movement slow, not wishing to add to her panic.

  “Get back,” she said, pointing the pliers at him. “I have to do this.”

  Damien wanted to stop her, but he also knew that if she went through with it, she would be safe and, as such, would calm down.

  Jules put the pliers against one of her fingernails and yanked. She screamed out in pain. The nail had torn in half with a shard still attached to her cuticle. Damien winced as she dived in again with the nose of the pliers and clamped down on the nail and a sliver of bleeding flesh. She yelled even louder this time, as she yanked a chunk of her nail bed out along with the nail. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she continued on. She looked up at the sky and screamed. “Is this what you want, you sick fuck?”

  She yanked her pinkie nail free in one go. Then her engagement finger. Then her middle finger. Then her thumb nail.

  “Hey, stop,” said Damien. “You’ve done it. Stop hurting yourself.”

  Jules carried on ripping free her nails. She managed to take off her index fingernail by the time Damien made it over to her and tore the pliers free from her hand.

  He pulled her in tight as she sobbed and bellowed in agony. She convulsed in his arms as the pain wracked her. Then her knees folded and she crumpled to the floor and vomited onto the grass.

  “Okay,” said Damien. “It’s over now. You’re safe. You were strong and no one can vote for you. You were strong.”

  Jules just sobbed.

  The camera and the giant eyeball watched them with indifference.

  Danni came over to them both and knelt down. She placed a hand on Damien’s back and rubbed up and down his spine. “She might be safe, but let’s just pray that no one votes for us tonight.”

  Damien sighed. He didn’t believe in God, but right now he wished he did. Because praying felt like a good idea.

  3

  Damien retrieved his luggage, seeing as how Chris no longer had any claim over it. He swapped his jeans for a pair of tracksuit bottoms and swapped his button-up shirt for a warm hoodie that hid the collar around his neck. He felt far better and much readier for any physical challenges that might lie ahead. But he also felt unclean. It had been more than seventy-two hours since he’d last washed and there was nowhere, other
than the house’s single toilet, where one could conduct any sort of personal hygiene. He considered using the sink in the kitchen or maybe trying to wash up in the hot tub if things got much worse – which invariably they would.

  As he sat alone in the garden, Damien contemplated once again why he was in the situation he was in. Primarily it was because he had volunteered in order to win the prize money – which was still up for grabs by the sound of things – but he was also sure that none of the housemates were there by random chance. They had all been chosen for some reason.

  The smart-suited gentleman that had visited Damien and Harry’s wood shop several weeks ago had obviously not been a ‘television producer’ looking for ‘ordinary people’ to compete in a game show. It was obvious now that Damien had been targeted and mislead. Whether or not that man posing as a producer knew how much Damien had needed the money was unclear. Perhaps it was just a grim coincidence. Perhaps not. Damien would not have even considered entering the house if circumstances were different.

  The other housemates would probably all have similar stories of how they had been convinced to be there. He wondered if the man in the suit had been The Landlord, or just someone working for him.

  The biggest question on Damien’s mind, however, was who would want him punished? Who would want to enact revenge against him? He had never killed anybody like Chris had, had never wrecked anybody’s life, at least to his knowledge.

  Maybe those words beneath the silhouettes on the television screen are the answer.

  He thought about some of those words now. Murderer – was that one meant to be Chris? No, the one beneath Chris said ‘Thug’.

  So does that mean another one of the housemates is a murderer?

  There were also the words Predator, Traitor, Peddler, and several others. Damien had no clue which word was meant to apply to him. None of them as far as he was concerned.

  They must have the wrong guy. I shouldn’t be here.