Page 25 of Play Dirty

Tonight is a test.

This is a small country-style carnival, and in my experience the house of horrors is usually pretty tame.

That’s what I’m banking on, hoping that I can get back to where I was before Damien tried to kill me.

A guy holding a chainsaw turns it on, wiggling it in our direction, and I press closer to Marty. My heart is beating a little faster than usual but nothing too bad.

So far, so good.

There are tiny lights on the floor giving a little bit of illumination, probably to avoid the lawsuit if someone falls, so I keep my eye on those as we move forward.

Marty’s body is strong and firm, his hand warm and dry around mine. It’s easy to lean on him, to trust him. I don’t know why but seeing the way he treats his children—with gentle care and endless patience—tells me he’s a good man. The kind of guy who’d protect me if needed.

A masked demon pops out of nowhere, letting out a blood curdling scream and I gasp, clamping down on Marty’s hand. I feel him chuckle and pull in a calming breath.

This is make-believe and I’m here willingly.

To have fun.

I keep reminding myself of that as we inch forward.

There’s a casket to the right with a live woman in it. She’s covered in blood and bruises, and she sits straight up as we pass her.

“Save me,” she whispers in a dramatic voice filled with fear. “Don’t let them put me in the ground…”

We’ve just moved past her when I feel something touch my hair and I shriek, burying my face against one of Marty’s shoulder blades.

“You okay?” he asks, sliding an arm around my shoulder.

“Someone…touched me,” I whisper, trying to shake it off. “I’m okay. It just… I wasn’t expecting to be touched.”

“I’ve got you, don’t worry. I won’t let anyone else touch you.”

“It was just my hair. I’m all right.”

“Okay to keep going?”

“Of course.”

Maybe.

I hear the guy with the chainsaw behind us and I remind myself that this is fake. No one actually gets hurt. This is fun. I used to think these were hilarious, loved being frightened for a few minutes.

But after being frightened for real, it’s suddenly a little different.

The next room is two stories, and at the top of the stairs is a woman being stabbed repeatedly. She’s screaming and writhing as her masked attacker goes to town, and then… he pushes her down the stairs.

And while I know it’s not real, memories overwhelm me and I shrink back against Marty.

Stop it, Stevie. This isn’t real.

But it’s too much like what I lived through.

I’ve learned coping mechanisms for when I’m afraid or have nightmares, but I don’t think they’re going to work. My heart is racing a little too fast, and I’m starting to feel lightheaded.

“M-Marty…”

“What’s wrong?” He seems to sense my discomfort.

---