Page 18 of Scaredy Cat
“Are you scared yet?” the man asks. His attention on me is so intense that I can’t bring myself to look away. “Do Ifrightenyou, Scaredy Cat?”
Something stirs to life in the back of my mind, some kind of realization about this situation, but I can’t quite figure out what it is with my brain moving so sluggishly.
I am afraid of him. I’m scared of this man who’s now shown up at two haunts, carrying a real knife, and has painted my mouth with his blood.
But something in me rebels, and I jerk backward, one hand coming up hesitantly to shove his away. I can’t bring myself to lie, to tell him I’m not afraid, but whatever he sees in my expression and the set of my jaw has him scoffing out a chuckle before he slams both hands against the wall on either side of me once more.
“So we’re going to play this game, are we? That’s okay.” He looms closer until there are only scant inches between us. “I don’t mind a little lie.” Without warning, he moves one hand, jerking his mask to the side so the lower half of his face is revealed. All I can see is a grin, a sharp baring of teeth, before his mouth is on mine, one hand in my hair to prevent me from going anywhere at all.
His kiss is an attack of teeth and tongue, of dominance demanding me to give in from the start. To say I’m shocked is an understatement, and my paralysis is enough to allow him entry between my lips. His tongue must taste his own blood before pressing the sharp, metallic taste deeper into my mouth.
My hands come up, fingers gripping his heavy coat, and I swear I mean to push him away. I know Ineedto push him away, yet my mind is too focused on the taste of his blood and the feeling of his tongue.
On the soft sounds he’s making, like purrs and growls, as though he’s quite literally turningferalfor this kiss. Instead of pushing him away like I should, my hands sink deep into the heavy black coat he wears, and I have to lock my arms to stopmyself from pulling him closer. This isn’t okay. This is fucked up in every way, and I should be trying to scream for help.
Not reveling in the taste of him on my tongue.
The fog in my brain evaporates when he jerks me back by my hair, and as our mouths separate I can feel his blood smeared across my mouth as I gasp in surprise. The knife is back a second later, drawing a line down my cheek as he pants, both of us dragging in air after our prolonged kiss. My lungs ache for oxygen, but I can barely do more than shudder in a breath at the touch of metal on my cheek.
“You’re afraid of me.” With the mask still skewed to one side, his voice is no longer muffled. It’s soft, charming, and not what I expected from the man holding the blade. “You don’t have to admit it, babe. You’reterrified.”
I don’t admit it.
I won’t.
“But I can make you admit it,” he goes on, stroking the knife over my bottom lip. “I can make you tell me anything I want.”
My chest aches to speak, to tell him either what he wants to hear or to go to hell. He deserves the second, and it would make me feel better, but I’m too afraid to piss off this man when he has a knife pressed to my skin. A knife he’s proven is very real by cutting his own finger.
“Persy?” The voice sounds distorted and far, thanks to the thickness of the billowing fog. “Hey, you up here? Are you done with your alone time? No offense, but we’re kind of bored.” Madison’s voice rings sharply, though not unkindly, and the man grins instead of looking disappointed.
“I was done anyway,” he tells me, pulling the blade away from my face. “But this was fun, don’t you think?” He steps back and adjusts his mask, obscuring his face as the fog starts swirling around him, filling up the inches between us.
“Persy!” Now Brynn is calling my name, though neither of them is quite close enough for me to see. Not that I could even if she were within reach, with the fog so thick.
“See you soon,Scaredy Cat.”The man offers me a mock salute and backs away; quickly fading into the fog and becoming completely invisible in the strobe-light lit room.
“What…?” I can’t even form a sentence. I stand there feeling stupid until the figures of Madison and Brynn appear, cutting through the fog with their shirts up over their noses.
“This is ridiculous. Come on.” Brynn grabs my hand without really looking at me, towing both of us through the smoky room made to look like a slaughterhouse. I barely notice. I barely see anything at all as I stumble along, until we’re finally back out on the landing, having completed the underwhelming top floor of what was supposed to be a child-friendly haunt. “There was some kind of electrical issue, or something,” she tells me. “They want everyone to leave. Did you not?—”
“You’re bleeding!” Madison’s gasp cuts through Brynn’s words. She steps closer, lifting her hand to hover anxiously near my face. “What the hell? Persy, did you?—”
“We need to go,” I breathe, finally easing out of the fog that’s invaded my mind. I’m starting to feel like a real person again, instead of a mannequin, and I blink a few times, eyes burning from the fog. “We need togo.Right now.”
“What—”
“Nope. No questions. Just movement.” Already I’m tripping down the stairs, taking them too fast. I don’t stop, my gaze fixed on the door where other guests are filtering out from the smoky depths of Dusk House into the yard beyond.
I have to get out of here,is all I can think as I nearly push my way out.I have to get out of here, and I have to tell someone.
Anyone, as long as they believe me.
9
The womanwith a walkie-talkie glued to her hand very clearly doesn’t believe me. In her collared shirt and khakis, she leans against the large tree wrapped in caution tape, fog billowing from the now-open windows of Dusk House. Lights from the fire truck that pulled up during my first rant about the slaughterhouse event still reflect on every available surface, and it’s dark enough that her face is half-hidden in the shadows while only briefly being lit up by the red and white lights behind me.
“You said it was a man in a wolf-skull mask?” she asks slowly, like maybe I’m just a little stupid. I left out the part about him kissing me, though her eyes keep flicking to my bloody mouth like she justknowsand is judging. Well, definitely judging, or she thinks I’m off my meds. “We don’t have anyone here working in a mask like that.”
