The two Lucys retreated to their original spots.

  One of them reached into her pocket and pulled out a red clown nose. With a sharp, almost violent motion, she pressed it onto her face, her lips stretching into a wide, unnatural smile.

  Her mouth opened, crackling like a broken radio, and out spilled a voice no one had missed. The clown’s voice.

  As soon as Jayson heard it, his hand clenched tight against his pants.

  Today… yes, today was a really interesting day,” the clown crooned, his tone lilting with mock amusement. “But not even close to the viewers’ level of entertainment. That’s why… that’s why I brought a new show to finish the act off.”

  needle shimmered into existence beside each person’s hand.

  “As I said… today will be a bit different,” he muttered.

  The lights flickered. When they steadied, the clown stood there in his black suit and hat, tears streaking down his painted face. He tipped his hat with exaggerated flourish, then strolled toward Clara.

  Clara froze, rooted to her chair as sweat ran down her temples. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths. The clown leaned close, his shadow swallowing her whole. He took her trembling hand in his own, lifted the needle, and guided her toward the balloon. She shook violently but couldn’t resist.

  With a sharp jab, the balloon burst.

  A spray of confetti and streamers exploded into the air, and a child’s recorded voice echoed through the room with an eerie cheer: “Yaaay!"

  “All of you have five minutes ,” the clown whispered, tilting his head sideways like he was drifting into sleep.

  The lights flickered again. The clown dissappeard. Above them, the rectangular watch began ticking down.

  “So… you want me to pop balloons now?” Saymon muttered, his voice hoarse and cracked, like he was speaking through a cold. He picked up the needle, hand trembling, and moved it toward the balloon.

  “Wait!!” Victoria shouted, reaching out, but she was too late.

  The balloon burst, and a Can of Tuna dropped neatly into Saymon’s hands. Another eerie “Yaaay!” echoed through the room.

  Jayson’s stomach growled violently, a sharp ache twisting through him. He pressed his hand against it, the hunger clawing at his insides like something feral. His eyes flicked to Leon and Zhayne , searching for some silent approval—but both of them were already gripping their needles, just as desperate.

  Across the table, Ron and Victoria stayed still, glancing at the others as if waiting for the right moment.

  Jayson jabbed his balloon.

  It burst, and his eyes lit up with a mix of relief and hope, as though convinced he’d get something better than a measly can of tuna. But what tumbled out was… an egg , its surface marred with faint yellow veins streaking out from the shell. There was no cheerful “Yaaay” this time. Just silence.

  Jayson stared at it, his expression twisting into disgust. He let out a sharp sigh, lowering his voice as he muttered, almost to himself:

  “...An egg!?”

  From the corner, Vincent chuckled, already munching on a pack of chocolate that had landed in his lap. Zhayne held up a bottle of water, Leon frowned at a packet of raw salmon, its slimy flesh gleaming under the lights, and Rafael… still hadn’t opened his balloons.

  Two minutes passed. Zhayne opened another balloon— empty. Leon hesitated, his hand frozen in midair. He couldn't bring himself to cat. Finally, Rafael reached for his needle... But before he could strike,a scream echoed through the room, freezing him in place.

  It was Clara. Her balloon burst with a hiss, releasing a hot liquid that splashed across her hand, burning her skin.

  She cried out, clutching it in agony.Saymon sat in shock beside her, his lips moving as he tried to calm her. But Clara was beyond his reach, lost in her pain, her cries tearing at the air.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Ron already had ice cubes scattered in front of him, and Victoria sat stiffly with a whole bunch of bananas piled at her side. Neither made a move to help.

  And none of the ones at Zhayne’s table rose from their seats—including Zhayne himself, as if they all knew what it would cost to stand.

  Zhayne lingered over the needle, his hand trembling before he finally picked it up again. But just as he steadied himself, a hand clutched his wrist.

  “What are you doing?” Vincent hissed, biting his lip.

  “I’m trying to help!” Zhayne shot back, staring straight into his face as he slowly pried Vincent’s hand away. Vincent resisted for a moment, but Zhayne managed to push him back just enough to free himself.

  Across the room, Leon couldn’t tear his eyes from Clara. Her voice, once sharp and piercing, was breaking—ragged, hoarse, as if her throat had grown tired of screaming. She still whimpered, but the fire of panic was ebbing, replaced by a faint, trembling calm.

  After struggling with Vincent, Zhayne finally broke free. He popped a balloon—and inside was a small bottle. No label. No words. Just a plain, blank surface staring back at him.

  A smile of relief broke across his face. “Here, take it!” he called, tossing the bottle toward the other table.

  But before it reached them, a sharp electric crack lit the air. The bottle jolted mid-flight and crashed to the floor, as if it had struck an invisible wall standing between the two tables.

  Zhayne’s face drained of all hope. Three hundred twenty-nine seconds had passed—and when it hit thirty, everything changed.

  A screen shot up in the middle of each table, humming faintly. Beside it, a red container appeared, filled with colorful, unblown balloons.

  The screen flashed to life, each of their faces displayed at the top. Rafael’s face was bright red, and beside each face, the number of balloons they’d popped ticked upward. Then a message appeared in bold red letters:

  WOULD YOU TAKE ANOTHER PATH?

  “Press it,” Rafael said, lifting his eyebrows toward the screen, ready to do anything rather than pop another balloon.

  Jayson hesitated a moment, then pressed it. The screen loaded.

  A new scene appeared: a child with his mom standing beside him, and a clown on a red circular stage holding a balloon. A timer in the corner counted down—one minute thirty seconds. Next to the clown was a picture of a dog-shaped balloon.

  Jayson nudged the container closer, but when he saw the dog balloon, he handed it to Vincent.

  “Here, take it. I trust you,” he said, focusing on the screen.

  Zhayne began carefully blowing up balloons to match the shapes needed, his hands moving quickly but precisely. Leon leaned toward Vincent, rapidly describing the dog balloon’s color and shape, his words tumbling out as fast as he could.

  Vincent snatched the balloons from Zhayne and began shaping them quickly, his movements precise and efficient. In just thirty seconds, he was finished.

  Leon grabbed the completed balloon and placed it beside the screen—but nothing happened.....

  Jayson, frustrated, aggressively nudged the balloon closer to the screen, but still, nothing responded.

  Leon’s eyes lingered on the screen. Then he shouted, loud and urgent, “The kid!… his hand is clutching into something!!”

  Zhayne glanced at the dog Vincent made. Then immediately grabbed a red balloon and began blowing it up fast. he noticed that the dog Vincent had created had no tail.

  Finally.. Rafael’s face turned green, just like the rest. The screen slid down, and the two Lucy figures vanished.

  Zhayne stood and limped towards Clara, holding the bottle of cream. But what he saw made his stomach drop. Her hand… it looked as if it had been carved, the skin around it melted and blackened in the center, as if burned beyond recognition.

  He carefully applied the cream to her injured hand.

  “Thanks,” Clara whispered, tears streaming down her face, mingling with the pain etched in every line of her expression.

  Zhayne limped over to his friends, his steps slow and heavy, each movement betraying the exhaustion and pain he still carried. Once he reached them, they began inspecting the items they had collected, though there wasn’t much to work with.

  Ron approached them, resting a hand on Leon’s shoulder and giving a meaningful glance to both him and Zhayne. “Follow me,” he said.

  Leon and Zhayne started preparing to move. Jayson opened his mouth, trying to insist he come along, but Leon cut him off, shaking his head firmly.

  The two followed Ron down a long corridor until they reached Room 502. The door had an elephant-shaped knob—the kind where you insert the key directly into the elephant’s open mouth. Ron carefully turned it, and the door creaked open.

  A stench immediately hit their noses. They hurriedly covered their faces with their clothes.

  "What is going on?" Leon frowned, waving a hand in front of his face to ward off the foul air.

  As they drew closer, their eyes were immediately drawn to something hiding beneath a worn, tattered blanket. At first, it was difficult to tell—was it even human? It looked like a corpse, but the way it slumped under the cloth made it hard to be certain.

  Victoria was already there, kneeling beside it, her hands resting lightly on the edge of the blanket. When they reached the spot, Victoria carefully lifted the fabric. What lay beneath made their stomachs turn.

  It resembled a man’s body, but all the facial features were gone,as if they had never existed. The eyes, nose, mouth, even the ears had dissolved into nothingness. The skin was pallid and mottled, the muscles slack, barely holding the shape of a face. The body was horrifyingly recognizable as human, yet grotesque in its incompleteness.

  Zhayne’s breath caught in his throat. He stared, frozen, every instinct telling him to look away—but he couldn’t. His eyes darted to the clothing, and there it was: a shirt he knew. Recognition hit him like a punch to the chest. “Dan?” Zhayne’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper. Surprise, disbelief, and sorrow all painted his face. His heart ached at the realization.

  THIS STORY IS ONLY ON RR I DON'T POST ON OTHER WEBSITES.