Dying For A Date

It was Ava’s weekly ritual to meet with random people she had met on dating apps. I knew this week’s guy was bad news from the beginning. I just had this feeling. I guess it was a spiritual intuition, trying to warn me, to warn her.

‘You can’t trust these dating apps Ava.’ I told her. Ava had been like a giddy schoolgirl.

‘Check him out Willow he’s so hot.’

‘Is that actually his photo though?’ I was sceptical. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to be that good looking unless it was with the help of AI.

‘Horatio?’ I question his name and throw Ava a slide glance.

‘Isn’t it such a romantic name!’ she swooned as she pressed her palms together drew them to her chin and fluttered her eyelids.

The memory of her bouncing on my bed makes me smile for a millisecond. I exhale feeling helpless in the current moment. Maybe I should have tried a little harder to stop her, I bite one of my nails nervously as I walk down an uneven terracotta brick path. One protruding corner catches me unaware and I stub my toe.

If she had just listened and given up on this stupid ritual she started, I wouldn’t be in this predicament right now and frankly neither would she. I force the thought to the back of my conscious. I coach myself, Concentrate Willow, time is of the essence.

Taking a deep breath, I look up to the sky. Hoping to catch a shooting star so I can make a wish. The moon and stars are no where in sight, they've been swallowed by a blanket of cloud. How fitting I thought. I feel my palms starting to sweat, deep down I’m terrified, but I need to find my friend.

I reach the end of the bumpy path there's a set of heavy steel doors, sterile and modern. They clash with the earthy materials that led me to them. I push open the metallic opening, revealing the morgue. The temperature instantly drops, and the harsh lights burn my pupils. Goosepimples cover my body as they attempt to adjust to the new climate. It’s all very clinical as I tiptoe my way across the white tiled room to the large wall of refrigerator units. It’s so quiet I hear every squeak of my converse as it encounters the shiny surface. I thought this footwear would be an appropriate choice I scold myself. I imagine I’m ten pounds lighter in a bid to make the sound softer, I can’t afford to be busted.

‘Shit’, I murmur. My eyes scan the wall, it reminds me of a high school locker room, rows and rows of doors. There’s so many of them, surely not that many people die daily.

Seems excessive, I thought, especially when the town we live in only has a population of two hundred and fifty people.

I nervously run my fingers through my hair to get rid of a few stray strands that were in my face.

‘Ava?’ I whisper cupping my hands around my mouth. I glance around to make sure I’m alone, I don’t want to get caught. ‘Ava can you hear me?’ ‘Ava?’. When I don’t receive a response, I wonder if I’m too late.

Ava was very much alive when she sent me the pin drop of her location, I checked three times to make sure, it was correct. At first, I thought it was a joke.

There is no way Ava would be at the local Morgue in the middle of the night. I don't care what kind of weird shit she might be into it. She just wouldn't disrespect the dead, I know her. I told myself perplexed.

My stomach is in knots, I know this is where he- Horatio- if that’s even his real name, brought her. I draw in the cool air, it hits the bottom of my lungs. I wished I had been more persistent and had persuaded my friend not to meet up with this random nut job. Staring at each of the metal doors, I’m like a child trying to choose a lucky dip prize, I select a door, take a deep breath hold it and yank it open.

The door slides out.

WHOOSH.

It reveals an empty cadaver tray. I realise my cheeks are puffed from holding my breath, I deflate them. I select another random unit and open it with a prickling unease. Also empty. I increase speed, ripping open door after door of the refrigeration chambers.

‘Fuck’ I run my hands over my face, ‘where are you Ava I whisper.’ Then I hear something. A tinny sound coming from a unit on the other side of the room. An avalanche of terror hits me ‘Ava?’ I race over and yank open the door I feel the sound is coming from.

My eyes widened in disbelief as the refrigerator tray reveals the body of my friend. Ava looks like a corpse her eyelids are purple, her usual tanned, glowing skin looks as though the life has been sucked from every cell in her, her veins are grey. Tiny cuts and large maroon bruises mark all her appendages.

‘Fuck he hurt you’ I say in disbelief. I touch her cheek it's frozen, like a piece of meat you put in the freeze and decided to take back out a few hours later, because you change your mind and want it for dinner.

Heavy padlocks hang from coiled chains that had been wrapped around Ava’s wrists three times and secured to the metal rod on the bed tray. “I don’t know how to fix this” I say as I grab Ava by the shoulders and shake her. Slowly I see Ava’s head turn towards me, her eyes still closed.

‘Willow?’, her voice a fragile whisper that could barely escape.

‘Yes it’s me Ava, don’t worry we’re going to get you out of here.’ The adrenaline was starting to pump through my body so fast I could feel my heart leaving my chest.

‘Who put you here’? I ask as I tug at the heavy padlocks praying for a miracle. My eyes darts around the room sporadically I run to a work bench fetching a scalpel they spotted. Shoving it in the lock I wiggle it around hoping in a past life I was a locksmith. Despite my efforts it remains hard and fast in place.

Ava turns her head ever so slowly back to the centre, she seems vacant as if her soul has already been extinguished.

‘Willow’, her voice is so thin and icy and sounds as though it might crack.

‘Yes Ava’, I pause to look at her and lean in a little closer, so she knows I’m here.

‘Run.’ As the words slip from her thin purple lips, her tone is unnerving. The rest of Ava’s body looks to be paralysed, she can’t move.

A chill runs from the top of my head, down my spine and into my toes forcing me to fumble, the golden lock falls from my hand, hitting the side of the unit. The loud metallic clink startles me, my reflexes jolt my arms into a frenzy, forcing the scalpel across my thigh. It stings. I grit my teeth and hold in a cry as I wince.

I stumble back losing my footing, preparing myself for the fall, I’m sent into a dizzying confusion when two hands grasp me under the armpits and catch me.

A mist hits my eyes, I scream as it ignites a fire deep within each of my eyeball. My nervous system scrambles trying to regulate the sudden pain and fluctuation in temperature. Where the fuck did this person even come from, I didn’t hear footsteps I immediately go into fight mode. My feet slide repetitively over the floor as I try to break free.

‘Help, please help, I’m in here’ I start screaming. ‘Get your fucking hands off me’. I throw my body weight around, with the hopes I might down my attacker, but without my sight I’m too vulnerable. An arm wraps around my throat and squeezes my windpipe. I gurgle as I try to catch tiny breaths. Gripping at the arms that have me in a headlock, I dig my fingernails into my attackers arms and scratch like a cat on steroids, hoping it will force them to loosen their grip. It doesn't work. My attacker has the upper hand. I hear the rollers glide happily on their tracks as of one of the chambers is flung open.

I’m lifted into the air and thrown onto the tray with force.

BANG!

My head and back slam hard on the cold metal, each individual vertebrae howls in agony ‘Who are you?’ I scream out from the pain. I thrash kicking and punching the air as tears stream down my face. The salt intensifies scorching sensation the mist left in my eyes. My vision is blurry, I can only make out dark shadows. I think this person is wearing a mask. I try to grab it, but as I reach up a vice like grip wraps around my wrist and forces it down onto the table.

SLAM!

A cold, heavy chain is wrapped around my hand three times. I can’t see, but I assume it looks the same as the one that was used to pin down Ava. The weight of the padlock cuts into my circulation. I try to yank myself free, I can't undo it. I continue to struggle with my free hand. Suddenly I feel a sharp pinch in my arm, a rush of pins and needles flows through me. The all too familiar sound of the rollers starts up taunting me. I feel each muscle reluctantly relax as I’m simultaneously slowly pushed into the freezing unit. I can’t move. I can’t see, unrelenting fear consumes me. I hear the hinges of the door creak. Just before the final click, a deep, husky voice booms…

‘Sleep tight Willow.’