Page 22 of The Games We Play

“Tick Tock, Puppet,” the actor says, pointing at the barn where the pig stands at the entrance. The way he says my pet name confirms he is not my stranger. The accent is all wrong. This man makes it sound more like pup-it.

Once again, I cast a glance at Ryan, my mask distinguishing me as yet another anomaly in this gathering of creatures. I’m not ready for this game to end. I’m so close to finding out who X is. Abandoning Ryan, I let the man lead me to the front of the line of Haunted Barn. The pig opens the door for me to step inside, and a dense fog creeps out. The sound of chopped bones comes from inside.

With the door closing behind me, the pig’s bat pokes into my back. I quickly move forward, not wanting to waste a second of trying to mind my masked man. A table saw whirs to life in the next room. I step throughthe plastic curtains, and fake blood splatters across my body. It’s warm, soaking into my shirt and on my exposed skin.

Please be fake.

I fight through the urge to gag as a hairy, sweaty man in a sleeveless shirt with a large triangle-shaped helmet that obscures his entire face steps in front of me. He drags a blade, almost the same size as him, along the floor.

Fake.It’s all fake, I remind myself.

But that doesn’t convince the instinct I have to run. When he swings up his blade, I duck under his raised arm into the next room. The sound of metal crashing to the floor behind me where I was just standing is…real. Metal on metal. Did X plan to make this the most dangerous game? Is my life actually in danger here?

I shimmy between what feels like giant balloons full of air that squish against my body. Hands grab my ankles, and I whirl around, trying to find who’s after me, but I can’t see anything. I kick out, hoping to hit something, and the hand releases me. I pump my legs to get me away from here and free fall into an empty room, landing on my hands and knees. My palms burn from the impact on the dirt and rocky ground. Cradling them to my stomach, I search for the next sign of danger.

I can’t see anything through the bright green haze. I’m grabbed at the ankles again, and they pull me across the room. With all my strength, I claw at the ground, hoping to escape. They stop and pin my legs under their weight, and their hands slide up my legs, over my ass, and skim under my shirt. I scream and swing my fists wildly, bucking my body, trying to get them off.

“Please!” I beg for X to hear me, to step out of the fog and put this to an end. Images of Seth pinning me down and taking what wasn’t his pumps my heart faster, and I can’t breathe.

“Puppet,” multiple voices murmur and overlap each other. It’s Seth all over again. I’m stuck here, forced to endure something I don’t want to. Something nobody should ever have to.

Tears well in my eyes, and my body shakes. I can’t take this; it’s too much. I won’t find him.

“Stop!” I scream and swing my arms around. My elbow crunches, connecting with something hard, and pain shoots up my arm and down to my hand.

“You bitch!” The person moves, and I army-crawl forward, racing out of this place of nightmares. Entering a haunted house knowing the workers can’t touch you is one thing, but the fear turns real when all those rules go out the window.

It is real—all of it.

X isn’t here. He wouldn’t letanyonetouch what belongs to him. I dive through a plastic tunnel, and cymbals clash overhead. I land on a musty mattress and look behind me. A giant monkey leaps from the top of the tunnel and rushes toward me on all fours.

He’s just a person. But my mind is breaking into tiny pieces, and I can’t think past the fear. This is part of X’s sick and twisted game. My body bounces off the wood-slatted walls I hastily back into. Hands reach out to grab me from behind. My throat is raw from screaming, and tears soak my cheeks under my mask. I have to get out of here. My vision tunnels, blinding me from the dangers in my periphery.

The rev of a chainsaw stops me in my tracks. Did that come from in front of me…or behind me?

“Puppet,” a male voice sings out. I spin, searching for the source, but there’s no one there. When I turn back around, a man in a flannel raises the chainsaw high and pulls the handle, causing the blade to spin.

There’s no chain.There’s no chain.There’s no—

He brings the chainsaw down on the wooden beam at eye-level with me. Chips of wood spit back at me, and I’m thankful for a brief moment that I’m still wearing the mask.

But that means…my heart drops, and I run. The rev of a chainsaw follows close behind me, drowning all other sounds around me.

Not fake. None of this is fake. How far is X willing to take this game? Would he let me die?

Of course, he would. He’s a stalker, not someone who actually cares for me. He’d let men have their way with me before I begged for death to take me instead. This is the kind of thing he gets off on. He’s a fucking monster. A psychopath…and still, I have this drive to find him.

I bust through the exit of the barn, covered in dirt and blood, and look like I belong in this hell. I don’t stop until I’m hiding behind the portable toilets in the shadows. My body vibrates, and I can’t breathe. Since I was a kid, I’ve had this nervous habit of running my fingers through my hair, but it’s matted and disgusting.

I could leave. I’m this close to the car. Go and wait for Ryan to find me. What’s keeping me here besides my own delusions? I crouch and force several deep breaths, pulling the mask from my face and flip it around, turning on the lights, burning the X’s into my pupils.

It’s irrational. Insane. I am fucking insane for becoming obsessed with someone who breaks into my house, keeps me in pitch-black darkness, refuses to let me see his face, and hasn’t even fucked me.

I trace the lines of the mask with my finger and remember how it felt to see him towering over Seth’s body. Then he ghosted me for weeks, only to show up now and make my night of fun a living hell.

Laughter bubbles up in my chest. The attractions and actors have nearly scared me to death tonight. This is why you come to a haunted house—isn’t it? If you don’t come to get scared, then why? There’s only the asylum and clown house left. I slide the mask over my face and stand, staring at the final two attractions—the last trials of his game.

I’m going to find X, even if it’s just to prove to him I can.

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