Seven Minutes to Hell

Disclaimer: I do not own this story. It was written by a friend of mine for a contest I was holding. The story, all in it, belong to Anon E Muss (it’s what she wanted me to put :p)

As soon as I drew a card I went to the closet. None of these losers were worth the wait. I sat down, drawing my legs up into my chest. I took out my phone and began text messaging my pen-pal, or would electronic pal be the correct term since we kept in touch by e-mail and text messages. He seemed to be the only one that actually understood me. As my fingers flew across the phone buttons, the other person flopped down on the other side of the closet. After the message was sent I sat back and waited. Corey always seemed to reply faster than humanly possible. "I'm locked in a closet with some idiot." I had sent.

As I waited I heard a beep. Looking down I found it wasn't my phone, but the other guy's. He hurriedly pulled it out, reading over it and frowned, then replied. I've never seen a guy text that fast! Usually they're slow and careful, but he just flew down the keys. He sent it, letting the phone drop and sighed.

My phone suddenly beeped as well. I opened the message and read, "So am I... 7 minutes in heaven. Why did your mom lock you in this time?" I smiled, this guy knew me way too well. He was the only one I trusted enought to tell of my mother and her... issues with my life... mainly that it still existed.

"No, actually it's for a game. 7 minutes in heaven." And I sent that off.

I began glancing around the closet, waiting for a reply and heard another beep. The other guys phone had gone off. He texted like mad again, this time the frown gone. A few moments later, after he had put his phone down, mine received a message. I looked across at the guy. Did he realize how creepy this really was? I read, "Really? And who are you stuck with?"

I replied. "I don't know. I've never met this guy before."

AGAIN a few moments after I sent it, the person across the room got a text and let out a small smile. He was kind of cute when he smiled, but he was one of those preppy looking types. I hated him already. After he sent his message, I looked down at my phone, expecting it to go off. And there it was! I read, "Well, go talk to him! Make a friend!" I smiled. Corey was always telling me that. This time I text messaged him, "He won't like me, but I'll try. For you. You owe me."

After sending that I began crawling over to the person, whose face nearly lit up. "Um, hi. I'm Ariella," I gave a fake smile.

"I'm Corey," he replied, smiling even more, as if he knew something I didn't. We sat in silence a moment before his phone went off. "Hold on, let me get this." As he read, I could see some of it. All I could read were the last words, "For you. You owe me." I gasped then poked him.

"You idiot!" I cried, eyes wide, his smile wider.

"Took you long enough," he giggled, almost like a girl.

"You could have told me," I shot back before engulfing him in a huge hug. He winced and I pulled away. "I'm sorry. Where does it hurt?" I blushed when he reached to the edge of his shirt and pulled it off, revealing fine, chiseled abs and an enormous bruise from the top of his rib cage to a line hidden somewhere in his pants. Several small cuts accompanied that one huge bruise, but that was the main issue at the moment. "I'm sorry," I whispered, looking up into his eyes.

"It's not your fault, Ariel," he whispered back, that goofy smile still in place. I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. My hands began gently brushing over the purple-green area while I listened to his breath rattle from deep in his chest then out through his lungs. It sounds like he may have a broken rib, too. But I couldn't comment on that before his hands, hardened from football training, enclosed mine in a small hug meant only for hands and he let out a small groan. "You gotta stop doing that," he muttered when I looked up at his face in surprise. His eyes were rolled back in his skull and he looked as if he were trying, and nearly failing, to hold himself back from me.

After Corey released my hands I smiled and continued gently moving my hands up and down against his skin, watching his expression. Before I knew what I was doing, my lips were pinned to his, pushing him against the wall. He let out a loud groan before taking charge, letting me know he wanted entrance into my mouth by giving my bottom lip a sharp nip. I could only yip, my arms wrapping around his shoulders, but still not letting him in. A few moments after, a hand found its way up my shirt, moving towards my bra. As soon as that was off, my shirt joined the discarded clothing pile. "I love you," I muttered, letting his hands go over the fading bruise that was traveling down my bare back.

"I love you, too," he hissed in my ear, before the door was flung open.

After that night, we were nearly inseparable. But one day his father found out about the two of us. We weren't allowed near each other, and I knew why. He didn't want us to help each other escape from our 'discipline.' One day, though, he found out that we were sneaking out behind his back and told my mother. The two were awaiting our arrival at my house. As soon as we walked in, the barrel of a gun was pinned to my head, right above my left ear. Corey screamed and kicked at his father, sending the gun flying off into the corner. Both the adults had to pin him down to keep him away, and while they were distracted all I could think of was the gun and saving the only one to ever love me. I dove and turned, shooting off seven rounds, the horrid sounds of their screams echoing in my head for eternity.

And when I looked up, Corey's pale, blood covered face pulled out of the carnage, smiling once before passing out from loss of blood from two bullet wounds. I called the ambulance then turned to them all, putting the gun to my head again I fired. Last shot. As my body lay on the blood-covered floor, the new engagement ring sparkled almost merrily in the ghostly moonlight streaming into the window.

I'll love you til eternity is over, then we'll start counting backwards.