Page 173 of Phobia
His attention is magnificent.
I’m so happy I stole him away from the rest.
He’s all mine.
Every pass, my hand drops lower. My index finger dips into his belly button, and he hisses, then whimpers. His head shakes back and forth, sending a few droplets flying from the ends of his hair.
My tongue flicks out over a drop that landed on my upper lip.
Mmm. Nothing tastes better than fear-induced sweat.
Sickly sweet and slightly sour.
I’m at his back now, my stomach pressed against the bars keeping him exactly where I want him. Trembling, whimpering with snotty sobs, seeking me out even as he doesn’t want to…
Yeah. With him, it’sallalready so different. I don’t want to make him my victim.
I want him towantto be.
So, for the first time in the few years I’ve worked at Mayhem, scaring the shit out of people—sometimes literally—I’m going off script. To do somethingreallyfun.
All for me.
“Tell me your name.” I bend over to whisper into his ear, scoring my teeth over the edge of his earlobe. He shrieks and jerks to the side, banging his other ear against the metal bar. The groan that escapes from deep in his gut reverberates off the walls and into me.
“Tell me,” I hiss. He gasps, the sound wet and filled with tears.
“M-mad—”
“M-m-m,” I mock him with a snicker as I round his right side.
“Ma-Madison,” he finally chokes out, eyes comically wide as I step into view again. And I know exactly what he’s seeing, too. The face that fills most nightmares.
Coulrophobia in the horror industry makes for a great line of work. ‘Cause as much as people are terrified of clowns, they fuckin’ love being scared by ‘em, too.
Especially one that looks like me.
Madison’s eyes lift up, locking on the thick, spiked horseshoe ring hanging from the center of my nose. Then they shift to the spikes in both sides of my bottom lip. I smile wide, flashing him my fake, sharpened teeth, spreading my mouth as wide open as I can. A small flick of my tongue. I even widen my eyes too, lunging forward for effectiveness.
He screams and slams his eyes closed. His whole body wracks with tremors. I ease forward, towering above his small frame as I run my fingers over his shoulder and down his bicep. His skin is smooth. Slick. I dig my index finger in, just to watch his flesh bloom with a stripe of crimson.
The lights flashing distort the terrified boy in front of me, but there’s no turning it off. And it actually might work in my favor…
My groin furls with warmth as I work my hands over him, scraping lightly as I make my way down, following the center line leading toward his boxers. His body is supple. Not well defined with a layer of softness above the muscle.
Perfect for splitting open…
I step through a plume of smoke lingering a few feet off the floor. It dances around, curling and morphing into different designs that add a layer of density. I dip down to pick up my ax, gripping the end of it with loose fingers.
Swinging it back and forth, I let the blade scrape against the floor. The shredded carpet below exposes the wooden underlayment beneath, giving a nice, sharp hiss with every swipe. Poor little Madison is stuck between keeping his eyes scrunched tight and eyeing the motion of my ax warily.
Like the prospect of blindness is just as scary as the blatant reality.
I let my eyes drag over his body, nearly fully exposed to me. His chest is heaving, even though he hasn’t moved a muscle—because he can’t. His lips are parted, glistening with saliva. His eyes are wide—glassy. Eyelashes clumped together in thick spikes.
His hair is still wet from the water. Probably from sweat, too. I breathe in deeply, my eyes flashing at the whiff of ammonia.Yeah…
I swing my ax over my shoulder, letting it sit alongside my neck as I lean in. Close. Closer until I can feel Madison’s heat on my lips. He’s trembling, head veering as far right as he can get it.
