Demons in Hiding.

"Let's play spin the bottle in the dark. We'll just feel where the bottle lands towards!" We turn out the lights and we start to play. But then we turn the bottle and it's on one of my friends. We expect the two to kiss, but they don't. Immediately, everyone knows there is an imposter among them. I look at everyone's scared faces. "OMG! Who would do such a thing? Oh my god." I shout. I run out of the room into the hallway. A few people have come into the hallway with me. A few people are comforting each other. I'm comforting my friends. This was tragic. Completely and utterly tragic. And now, we didn't know who to trust. What was happening, how it happened. Life was going to take an official turn for the worst possible scenario. I could be next!

We went home and I went to bed that night. Now, I had to keep this secret over the dead body. Five people, four were able to walk out by the end. And one secret. Days later, it was under investigation, and a couple weeks after we had a funeral. It was extremely depressing. But no one knew the imposter. Still, it could have been their fault. They said it was poison in a drink and rare poison. Could have been any of us. We were lucky that we survived it. We didn't sue the place or anything. Just luck we had even survived. We went to another place similar to it weeks later. But the same thing happened. This time I tried to push the drink out of their hand but they drank it anyway. I felt like it was all my fault. I could have prevented it, I could have taken the bullet. And I chose to live over them. All my fault.

At the funeral, everyone kept telling me it wasn't my fault, and instead theirs. It was an accident, and they were starting to develop a drinking problem. It just got the better of them in the worst way. Four went in, and three walked out. I was lucky to be one of the survivors. The next time we went out, we were all careful to have no drinks. Instead, it was crackers. I tried to warn them, smacked the crackers out of their hand, and just tried to have them have fun. But it wasn't working. They ate them anyway. I was really beginning to lose all my friends. How could this be happening? So much poison, and why? Would I be next? Yes, yes I was. But believe it or not, I was alone. I died that night with a smile on my face. Now they would believe the villain was the last remaining person. The people at all funerals wanted the person left to burn for eternity. They said so themselves.

I was the poison holder the entire time. I was the one who gave them final warnings. Almost every time. But it was I who had doled out the food and the drinks. Who snuck it in. The entire time, I was the murderer. And everyone bought it. I decided to watch behind the walls of my apartment. They came in to inspect the apartment, and it took the owner of my apartment to come in to find me dead. They called the police who came in with a detective. The detective went room to room inspecting everything. They would never find my poison. And even if they did find it, I was dead anyway. The damage was done. The poison was on a bench under the stairs. I pulled the wood of the stairs up and put it in there. Then every time I would nail the board back down. So there was no way that they would suspect it.

"Hey! Look! This looks suspicious." One of the officers remarked. I looked and smiled even if they pulled it up and found it, there would be nothing they could do. The same officer took their arms and pulled the board up. "Uh, you might want to come and see this." The detective came in and looked at it. They found it. Now what? They picked what was left of it up and took it out. They burnt it. Now what? It's not like they could punish my dead soul. They took my body and dragged it outside. It was there for two weeks. And then all the families of everyone I had poisoned showed up, and my one friend that was left. They picked up my body and threw it in the back of a truck. Then they went to a large parking lot, with a ton of wood in the middle. They got my body and set it on fire. Then they started saying a bunch of incoherent words.

And then I felt the burning of the flames affecting me. I felt it even after my body was ashes. I was on fire, but no one could help me. I was burning so heavily, that I would rather die once more than deal with this. I knew the path I took was a dark one. And that what I did I regretted. But when I did the things I did, I felt no remorse. No regret. In fact, euphoric. But after burning, for years and years with no relief, I knew that there was nothing more that I regretted. I shouldn't have done what I had done. But now it was too late. If I were to have one last chance, I would use it. I would change it and have a better life than ever before. To prevent me from going, from getting the poison, from doling out the poison to them. It was all my fault. I could have helped them live. Have myself done and over for the betterment of others. I had too many demons, and I made them others' problems, and that was the problem.