10/10

“So,” said Josh. “Who’ll go first?”

“I’ll go first,” volunteered Mike as he slowly walked down the steps. Behind him, the other boys watched.

“He’s gonna DIE,” Nate whispered to Josh, anxiously.

Brandon nervously watched Mike amble into the darkness of the underground tunnel. He was very aware that if Mike came out the other end unscathed, HE would have to go down there. His sophomore year of high school was stressful enough, but this was worse. However, he figured could run through the whole thing in about ten seconds, which calmed him down.

The group of three boys waited eagerly, waiting to see the fate of Mike, the youngest of the group. After about thirty seconds, he popped out of the other end, making a dramatic exit. The group cheered.

“How was it?” asked Brandon.

“It wasn’t too bad. There’s a lot of graffiti,” answered Mike.

“I’ll go next,” said Brandon. “I wanna get it over with.” The others boys gave him a good-luck pat on the back and he plodded down the steps.

The boys waited patiently, but got a little worried around the two-minute mark.

“Brandon?” called Josh, but to no answer. They walked towards the stairs, and that’s when they heard Brandon scream.

Josh got chills and Nate’s heart skipped a beat; Mike seemed startled. Josh and Nate ran down the steps.

Brandon’s body was limp and motionless. He had lost tons of blood, and more was pouring out of his neck as if there was an infinite amount. His hand was still gripping the knife.

Nate started sobbing, and bent down to take a closer look. Behind him, he heard Josh scream. He quickly turned his and… there, on the wall… he couldn’t quite comprehend it.

It was what appeared to be a painting. It looked like it was painted right onto the wall. He felt like his heart wasn’t beating at all. He felt like his brain wasn’t working. He felt like he couldn’t move.

Under the painting, in red, crude, painted handwriting, it read “1/10.” Just to the left of the painting, was an empty leather pouch. The kind a pouch a knife would be stored in.

After what seemed like a full minute, Nate looked down the tunnel and saw another painting. How… how could it be worse than the first one? Under, it read “2/10.”

Nate ran towards “2/10” and grabbed the knife.

Josh screamed and bolted towards him. It was too late. Nate thrust the knife at his own neck and fell to the ground. His body turning pale, his head hanging on by a thread. The sight was too much for Josh. He ran to “3/10” and grabbed the knife. He dug it into his throat and, when he saw the painting, he pushed it in even further. The physical pain was as bad as the mental. He collapsed right after the blade tore through the other side.

Mike walked down into the tunnel. He saw the dead bodies of his friends. He turned and looked at the paintings. Then, he looked back at the bodies. He knelt down beside Brandon and shoved his index finger into the wound. With his bloodied finger, he wrote on the deceased boy’s forehead “1/10.” He wiped his hand on his pants and walked over to Nate. “2/10,” he wrote this time. He wiped his hand, walked over to Josh, and wrote “3/10.”

“Not my best work,” Mike said, and with that, he turned and walked out of the tunnel.