Prank Gone Wrong Chapter 03

Prank Gone Wrong Chapter 03

They carried me. Chair and all. Down to the abandoned storage room under the auditorium stage.

Being hauled like a sandbag shattered something in me.

The chair jostled. The zip ties sawed deeper. I could feel the circulation cutting off. My hands and feet went numb.

The storage room was full of broken desks and drama club junk. Mold bloomed in the air.

No windows. Even in daylight, the darkness was absolute.

They pulled out camping flashlights. High-powered ones. Set them to strobe mode. Placed them in the corners.

The lights flickered maniacally. Distorted shadows crawled up the walls.

“Cameras set?” Jackson asked.

“Put her dead center. Maximum intimidation.” Connor directed. “GoPros are hidden. I want Harper’s terrified face on film.”

They moved around me. Setting up their sick little film set. I was the prop. The clown. Nailed to center stage.

“Harper texted. She’s coming down the stairs.” Tyler checked his iPhone. “Hide. Wait for the scream. Then we jump out and yell Surprise.”

Connor looked at me one last time. His eyes burned with that high-school-boy desperation for a viral moment.

“Sell it.”

Then they disappeared behind the massive set pieces.

They left me there. Tied to a metal chair. Strobe lights cutting through the dark.

Waiting to be their next viral TikTok.

Waiting to be the punchline.

Waiting for an ending too brutal to imagine.

The seconds crawled. Each one a small death.

I heard my own heartbeat. A war drum in that suffocating basement.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Like a countdown.

Footsteps approached.

Expensive heeled boots on concrete. Click. Click. Click. Steady rhythm.

The heavy fire door scraped open.

Corridor light spilled in. Then vanished as the door shut.

Harper’s theatrical voice echoed. “Connor? Are you in here?”

She dragged out the words. Fake fear. Performing for no one.

“Jesus. It looks like a serial killer’s basement down here.”

Her iPhone flashlight clicked on. Cold white light swept through the dark.

I closed my eyes. I prayed for it to end.

The light hit my face.

It was blinding. I flinched. I thrashed on instinct.

The metal chair screeched against concrete.

Then came the scream.

“Jesus Christ!”

Harper’s shriek tore through the air. Hysterical. Voice-shredding.

Her expensive phone hit the floor. The flashlight beam spun wildly.

I thought she’d run.

Or collapse in a heap.

Like every blonde cheerleader in every horror movie ever made.

But she didn’t.

She grabbed a steel folding chair. The heavy kind. The kind it takes two people to move at assemblies.

Something savage took over her body. Strength that shouldn’t have been there.

She raised the steel chair above her head.

And she swung it at my skull.