Page 166 of Phobia
My mouth is hanging open as my eyes scan the words I just carefully devoured.Electrical shock, suffocation, water inhalation… Sexual freaking contact.
There is no way in hell I am signing this.Especiallybecause it mentionsdeath—actual, literal death. As in dying. As in no longerbreathing.
The scratch of a pen makes me jerk my head toward the noise. Lenny’s writing on his paper…. “You’re not actually signing that, are you?” I ask, balking.
“Duh, dude. It’s why we’re here.” He shakes his head without even looking at me likeI’mthe one that’s out of my mind.
“Did you even read it?”
“Of course I did. I’m not that stupid.”
“It literally saysdeath,” I remind him.
“Yeah, but that’s not going to happen.” He finishes writing and snaps the pen against the clipboard. “This is all just legality shit, so they don’t get sued.”
His words do absolutelynothingto appease me.
“Okay, maybe, but has anyone actually died before?”
“Not that we know of,” Collin so helpfully adds.
“Oh, that’s just great,” I grumble. “Really reassuring.”
“Lighten up. This is supposed to be fun.”
“I thought it was supposed to be terrifying.”
“Yeah.” He smirks as he strides toward the front counter. He hands over the papers and pulls out his ID. After a minute of them checking and verifying, it goes through, and he’s escorted toward what I assume is the entrance.
Everyone else is close to follow, leaving me still sitting in my metal chair, chilled to the bone while the humidity clings to me like plastic wrap. “Mads, you comin’?” Kane asks from across the room.
I wave around my clipboard, watching the tail-ends of the paper flutter from the movement.Ugh.My eyes pinch shut. My lungs contract. Deflate. My legs hammer against the floor.
“Mads.” I hear my name again.
Please don’t die. Please don’t die.I repeat the mantra over in my head as I scribble my signature at the bottom.My death warrant.
I can’t help the grave thought. I even try to shove it down deep as I show them my ID, watching as they verify my name on both, make a copy, and place my actual card in a file. But still, that feeling lingers.
“Follow me,” a voice sounds out, drawing everyone’s attention. Feet are tapping anxiously along the floor. I can feel the adrenaline surging in the air, akin to electrical sparks.
Like static.
Hushed conversations cease to exist as we follow through the narrow, unmarked black door and down a dimly lit hallway that smells like a wet basement.
My eyes scour the cement walls, tracing over every crack and stain, every cobweb, and suspicious low-hanging beams.
The floor seems to slope downward as we walk, making my feet stutter. I stop and glance around.Uh… is the hallway getting smaller, too?
Air whistles out of my nostrils as my head whips around. Everyone else keeps walking, their steps echoing. A light flickers in the distance as the group pulls further away. I kick my ass into gear and rush to catch up, keeping my gaze pinned to the ground.
But it’s still sloping.Has no one else noticed?
I should’ve stayed behind. This was so stupid. I don’t need to make friendsthisbadly. “Did you guys—” Darkness descends on us in an instant, dousing the entire hallway in inky black. A thud resounds, bouncing off the cool, damp concrete, sounding louder, even as it fades. Someone gasps, making my hair stand on end. A sharp prickle.
It burns.
I reach out in front of me. When my pinky grazes something, I shriek and jerk away. My body slams into the wall, which I clutch desperately, needing the stability as the unknown unfolds right in front of me.
