The chain was so tight, Charlie felt like her head was about to pop off. The thin flesh protecting the delicate muscles and veins in her neck was squeezing through the links like thick dough. Bruises were already forming beneath the icy metal. The crazy girl's foot dug into Charlie's back. Her chest and stomach were flat on the disgusting floor. She reached frantically, grasping at anything. Air would never fill her lungs again if she didn't do something now.

Dirt. The clothes worn by the dead girl. Concrete. A wall. Clothes again. Miraculously, her fingers touched something useful. It felt like a handle of some sort, but it was stuck. Desperation pulsed loudly within her, as frantic as her lungs were for oxygen. She held the handle tight and pulled with all her might. The thing gave free with a wet, squishy sound. She didn't wait to see what it was, she just swung it behind her, hitting the girl.

The girl cried out and Charlie felt the chain release. She sucked in a deep breath, thankful of the slight sting she felt as the air screamed down her throat, and she swore she'd never take breathing for granted. Even the pungent smell of this place was worth breathing in if it meant you're alive.

Charlie slipped beneath the slack chain and spun to face her opponent. The girl was holding the upper right side of her face, blood flowing between her fingers and from beneath her palm in large drops.

"You cheated," she said. "You stole it! Give it back!" She was reaching for the thing in Charlie's hand...which happened to be a hammer. The claw side was damp with whatever had come from the dead girl, and it was the side that was turned away from Charlie. On the hitting side, not the swinging side. Apparently, that part had just struck the girl's forehead. Charlie didn't feel excessively bad about it.

"It's mine now!" Charlie said. "Finders keepers."

"No, you're not fair!"

"Fair? Are you crazy? What is fair about any of this? Being locked in a shitty, corpsy room in some asshole's freak show, that's what isn't fair!"

The girl didn't speak. A sense of confusion struck her face, pulled down the corners of her lips and narrowed her eyes. Then it was gone, as she locked onto the single thing that she could understand at the moment.

"No, that's mine. Carl said that was my toy," she said.

Charlie snorted cynically. "Oh, so he was Carl for you?" How many faces had he worn? How many lives had he lived? How many lives has he took?

"Give it back!" the girl screamed and lurched at Charlie, swiping for the hammer with her bloody hand.

Charlie stepped back. "No! Let's not do this."

The girl tried again, but Charlie was too fast for her. From the smell of this place, the girl probably wasn't in the best of health right now, mentally or physically.

"Please," Charlie said. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Hurt me? You can't hurt me. I'm numb!" The girl swung her chain out of nowhere. Charlie's recently acquired hammer flew free and clattered across the floor.

"Ouch!" She grabbed her hand as it stung and throbbed.

The girl swung again and Charlie fell over dodging the blow, but she kicked the girl's leg hard. The girl stumbled back and dropped the chain. She dove for the hammer, and Charlie did the first thing that came into her mind. Four years of soccer had taught her a thing or two. Her foot reared backward, then slammed the girl square in the face with the same force she had used many times to kick winning goals. A great string of blood and a few teeth shot from the girl's mouth.

Charlie grabbed the hammer.

The girl coughed and sputtered on her hands and knees on the floor. Charlie's chest heaved. Her neck and hand were still stinging. She almost killed me...but she looked so pitiful now. Gasping, coughing, her blood pooling on the floor.

"Fu-kin b-it-ch," the girl gasped. "I-ll k-i-ll you!"

Charlie had enough. This girl wouldn't quit. She couldn't comprehend reason. She was already gone. It was her or Charlie, and if it was Charlie, then it was also Shay. Charlie squeezed her eyes shut and screamed in anguish as she brought the hammer down...and hit the floor. She kept screaming.

"I can't! I fucking can't!" she cried.

The door opened. The girl stopped sputtering to squint curiously at the opened door with its blindingly bright light spilling in. Had something she'd done freed them both? Was it safe to go? Charlie shielded her light-sensitive eyes with her hand, willing them to adjust as quickly as possible. A shadow moved into the doorway, the light shaping the figure into a male silhouette.

"C-Charlie? Is that you?" he asked timidly.

---

A/N: Wow, who could that be? Thank you all for reading and loving One That Got Away! I may not get to reply to every single message, but I really am thankful for them, every one of them. The support from you all is amazing! Thank you all so much! ❤️ xo, Sam