Page 65 of Scaredy Cat
That’s a mistake, though. Craig jams three fingers of his other hand into my mouth, forcing me to taste the dirt and grime on his skin. He keeps going, shoving them further into my mouth until I feel them in my throat. My scream of protest is muffled, but he doesn’t seem to care. His fingers curl and scrape against my esophagus until tears blur my vision and nausea chokes me.
When he yanks his hand free, I can’t help it. My stomach contents follow, and I’m heaving and gagging, staggering to keep myself upright while half-digested pasta decorates the cold floor under me. My breaths come in sharp pants, and tears roll downmy face like I’m crying, though it’s just an unhappy reaction from throwing up.
“Oops.” Gloria prowls closer. “We usually recommend our guests don’t eat right before coming here.” She reaches out and drags her fingers through my hair in a mockery of comfort. “We’ll have to clean you up for our viewers, won’t we? Don’t worry, Persy.” God, I hate how she says my name. But then again, I hate everything about all of them. “By the time we start filming, you’ll be ready to give the best livestream performance of your life. We’ve got it all set up in the gift shop. And I’ll give you a new hoodie since…well…” Suddenly she’s dragging me, forcing me to stumble after her out of the workshop and down a narrow hallway. I hear footsteps behind us, but I can’t turn around. I can’t do anything as she drags me by my hair until she literally shoves me against a counter in a large, tiled bathroom.
“You’re filthy,” Gloria informs me with an unfriendly smile. She turns the water on so it’s blasting, and plugs the drain of the sink before dripping soap into it. My expression must give away how I’m feeling, because she snickers and grips my hair once more. “Don’t look so worried, Scaredy Cat. I’m just helping you clean up.” With a sweet smile, she suddenly shoves my face into the water.
I fight her immediately, needing air, but Gloria smashes my nose into the porcelain of the sink for a moment longer, then lets me up only long enough for me to take a ragged breath. Though with my face and hair dripping soapy water, I can’t open my eyes. Just as I’ve finished inhaling, she shoves me down again, only to repeat the process.
Up and down.
Water and no water.
Air and no air.
Quickly, my lungs are burning for air and I can’t hold myself up any longer. I’m panting as tears mix with the water on myface. I’m shaking, my bound hands are clenched, and the wordsScaredy Catare heavy on my lips. This isn’t being scared.
This is literal fuckingtorture.
“God, you smell like a wet dog.” Before I can make my tongue pronounce the words to get me out of here, I’m being pulled again, directed down a hallway with a hand gripped in my hoodie instead of in my hair, where my head is aching from the constant pulling. I force myself to swallow a whimper, and I open my eyes finally, trying to ignore the burn from the soap.
I just want to gohome.
I’ve never regretted a choice more in my life, and I wish I hadn’t lied to Shiloh. I wish he’d stalk me here, though I know he can’t. He’s with his dad, probably killing someone, but really, I’d rather him come kill all of this fucked up family who get off on torturing people. This isn’t a haunt. It’s just a way for them to get off on hurting people while getting paid for it.
“Here.” Gloria shoves me to my knees in a different room, though I can’t make out what’s around me. My vision is blurred with soap and tears, and I’m shaking from the trauma of being made to puke and being waterboarded within an inch of my consciousness. I’m finally able to see an open dog kennel on the floor in front of me, though I make a noise like a scoff and shake my head.
“You can’t be serious,” I force myself to say, though my voice is painfully hoarse and my whole body is shaking as cold air cuts through my drenched clothes. My hands curl and uncurl behind my back, shoulders pained from the constant strain.
“Get in the kennel, Scaredy Cat,” Craig tells me, just as sweetly as his sister. “It’s where animals belong after a bath.”
Again, I shake my head. “No. Fuck this. I don’t care.” I can’t keep doing this. “Post whatever you want. Say you’re too scary for me or whatever, and I’ll be sure to sayexactlywhat kind of experience I had here.” I take a breath, fighting back nausea.“But I’m done. I thought this was a haunt, not a place for weirdos to get off on torture. Scaredy cat. That’s what you want me to say, right?”
Nothing happens. None of them moves, and my hands remain tied behind my back.
At least, until Gloria laughs. “We’ll get there,” she assures me. “But I want to see you in the kennel first. I think that’ll make a really great picture for the post we make.”
I shake my head, nearly bent in two on the floor with my knees under me, feeling like a soggy pretzel. “Go fuck yourselves. I’m not getting in a kennel.”
Footsteps are the only warning I get before I’m hoisted off the floor from the back of my torn hoodie. Craig shoves me forward, and I feel my jeans tear and my knees getting scraped raw on the rough concrete as he forces me into the wire cage.
Instinctively, I fight back, elbows out and feet scrambling on the floor. But that only makes the pain worse when he forces me inside, not caring about the consequences to my body or the way my face slams against the wire hard enough for a loud, pained cry to echo through the room.
“Didn’t she say the safe word?” someone asks, confused. “I thought…”
“She can leave in a minute,” Gloria cuts in, her voice like a whip. “She’sfine.”
I’m definitely not fine. My nose goes numb, then hot, and I feel blood trickling down over my lips, trailing down my chin. The wire of the kennel is painful under my knees, and my arms burn from being twisted behind my back. But I refuse to make another sound. Irefuseto do anything except stay here, perfectly still, with my eyes fixed on the door to the room that I can finally see, thanks to my tears clearing the burn of soap from my eyes.
The voices behind me fade into white noise, and I focus on the thrum of my heart in my ears as I stare into the near-darkness leading outside. A man stands there, dressed all in black and wearing an actual mask, not one of the burlap sacks Gloria’s goons have on.
A mask I know very well.
“Shiloh,” I breathe, afraid that my mind is playing tricks on me in my desperation. “Shiloh, please…” I know he can’t hear me, but my gaze never leaves the eyeholes of the wolf-skull mask. “Shiloh.” There’s a needy edge in my voice, but God, I can’t help it. Ineedhim to be real.
He tilts his head to one side and carefully, slowly raises a hand to press his finger over the muzzle, then disappears into the darkness once again, leaving me terrified that he really is just my brain desperate for any kind of escape from this situation while my nose bleeds sluggishly, staining my face with bright red blood.
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