Don nagged at Timmy to spare him the suspense and just open the door. Timmy reluctantly complied, sensing that Don had no appreciation for suspense. and turned the round doorknob, then slowly pushed the door open. It made a loud creaking noise, so he turned around every half second to make sure no one was coming. Don, annoyed at Timmy's apparent cowardice, kicked the door open, slamming it against a wall. Pete nearly screamed at him for being rash, but Don just put his hand over Pete's mouth, and ordered him and Timmy to get in the bathroom.
The trio of friends all had different reactions: Timmy eyes span around in fascination, Don's eyes rolled out of disappointment, and Pete's eyes shifted out of fear. The room was pitch black, making it impossible to see anything. There was no rope to be found, nor was there a creature with two strange yellow eyes about. Pete found a light switch and flipped it, causing the room to get very bright for one second and then return to darkness, with a loud shattering sound in the background.
Don, with an unseen fury in his eyes, felt around for Pete and then grabbed him by the neck. Do you want us to get caught? No response from Pete. He was choking and gasping for air. Pete tried to use his weak legs to kick Don, but to no avail. Don retained his tight grip on Pete's neck, intending to keep it there until Pete stops squirming.
Timmy bumped into the two, causing Don to drop Pete. After that, all three of them stood in silence for the next few minutes.
Their night vision began to improve as time went on. As they looked around, they saw a sink whose faucets weren't functioning, a bathtub that had no faucets, and several drawers that each had a hand mirror inside of them, as well as a large wall mirror whose frame was as detailed as the Sistine Chapel. The mirrors were the only devices that actually worked in the room.
There was also this painting of a young woman, who was no older than twenty-five. She appeared to be holding something wrapped in cloth, and had a little face sticking out of it. The face had some blood on it and had its eyes closed. The woman was looking right at the baby with a stern expression on her face. The picture had no title- it just had a caption that said why isn't she happy?
Don grinned and stroked his chin when he saw the mirror. Hey, Timmy. You named your star Bloody Mary, right?
Yeah. What about it? Timmy responded.
How about we commemorate this occasion by performing the Bloody Mary ritual using this very mirror?
Pete squealed. Um, guys, a-are you sure that's a good idea?
Don laughed. Thanks for volunteering, Pete.
M-m-me?! I can't possibly do that! Besides, I-I have to go. See you guys tomor-
Don blocked the exit, and raised his eyebrow. Oh, come on, Pete. You can't be scared of saying some one's name into a little old mirror, can you?
It's more like a big old mirror...
Timmy intervened. Don, he doesn't have to do it. If you're so fearless, why don't you do it?
And rob him of this opportunity? Think about it. You and me, our dads our filthy rich. Pete though? His dad's a barber. We've been to Honolulu, seen the Grand Canyon, and even watched a bear wrestling tournament in Moscow. But Pete? His parents can't afford to drive to Oklahoma. For once in his life, he has the chance to do something exciting. And I'm not about to rob him of that.
Timmy was conflicted, but ultimately complied. Well, all right.
Pete was pushed onto the sink, and hit his rib cage, causing him to cough. He hoped that he would cough forever, so he wouldn't have talk to the mirror.
Timmy was watching intently while Don continued to stroke his chin.
Buh-buh-...Bloody Muh-Mary. Was that a creaking sound that he just heard? He only said it twice!
What are you waiting for? Say it!
Pete sweat dripped down his shirt and moistened the ancient sink.
B....B...Bl-Blo.... Bloody Mary.
Pete closed his eyes. If she was coming, he didn't want to see her. But wait. What if she could appear in his mind? What if he could hear her? Was he ever safe?
The wall. There was something knocking on the wall. It was faint, but impossible to ignore. Could be a mouse. Could be Mr. Fodder. Probably Mr. Fodder
Could be her, though.
More sounds. Coming from behind him this time. How did she get behind him? Was that even her?
She knew his name? This was all Don's and Timmy's fault.
It's not my fault.
IT'S NOT MY FAULT! He slammed his fist into the wall. That stopped it from knocking. Suddenly, there was a large crashing sound, and Pete felt a sharp pain on his head.
Pete! Pete, are you okay? Did the glass break on your head? God, Pete, we need to get you to my dad.
Your dad? He'll kill us!
We need to get him. He's the only one who can-
No need to fetch for me boys, I'm right here. Don and Timmy turned around. They didn't notice the door opening behind them, apparently.
Uh, M-Mr. Fodder, I can explain. It was Pete's idea.
Dad, Pete's hurt. He needs help.
I dunno, somehow the mirror collapsed, and-
The mirror! How is the mirror?
Uh... I think it's broken.
Mr. Fodder raised his eyebrows and faintly asked the mirror... what have you done?
Don't worry, Pete. You're gonna be fine. When Pete woke up, he felt something soft on the back of his head, and something warm covering his body. Where was he?
Don't get up! Stay. You just need some rest. You're in my bed right now. My dad said I had to sleep on the floor anyway, but I would've given it to you no matter what. He probably would have, too.
Just do me a favor and stay put, okay? I'll be right back with some aspirin. Pete couldn't hear the knocking anymore. All he heard was the faint footsteps of his good friend, and the quiet creaking of the door as it opened and closed.
Pete titled to his side and examined the bed. It had to be at least three times the size of his own. It was like king size, only bigger. There were around 20 pillows surrounding him. Who could need that many pillows? And the blankets. There were four sets of blankets. Why? Not that he was complaining or anything, but-
Did a window just open? Pete was feeling an icy breeze down his neck. He looked the left and saw something with a wedding dress covered in red and had hair covering its face, with the exception of a bloodshot eye that had no pupil.
All Pete could do was whisper it's not my fault.
It never is.
The door opened. Sorry that took so long. It's hard to open those bottles. Did you open a window or something? It's cold in here. He turned on the light. On the bed, he saw an eyeless face with red marks on it, and a message written on the walls that read:
YOU MADE ME DO IT.
A bloodcurdling scream filled the whole mansion.
Mrs. Fodder ran upstairs to try to comfort Timmy. She picked up the screaming boy and asked him what was wrong.
Can't you see it? Look what happened to Pete?
Mrs. Fodder turned around and examined Pete. She then turned around with an angry expression on her face.
Honey, he's just sleeping, that doesn't mean-
Sleeping?! He's dead! He's covered in blood!
Stop it, honey, you're scaring me.
How can you not see it?
Oh. Oh, I get it. You're trying to embarrass me. In front of all of these guests. Is that it?
Just because I wouldn't give you that video game. What was it called? Resident Evil. It's rated Mature for a reason, Timmy.
Can you really not see...
Mr. Fodder intervened. He had a distressed look his face, but had a very monotone voice. Listen to your mother, Timmy. Just sleep in the guest room.