Page 26 of Scaredy Cat
But nothing happens. I hear the next group go through the haunt. I hear their screams, and the yells from the military men. But they aren’t dragged down here into the dark cells with me. Instead, their footsteps and excited voices echo down the hall, heading further away, until they’re gone completely and once again I’m in the silent darkness.
What the hell is going on?
Trying to piece together an explanation in my mind doesn’t work so well. The only thing I can think of is that, since they know me, they’re trying to make this more intense. The guy in the skeleton mask certainly knew me. He called meScaredy Cat, after all, and then he walked inside right before me.
Yeah, I reassure myself. Yes, okay, that’s an easy explanation. If they know I’m here and they care about me enough to give me a fast pass, then maybe they were told to try to make this a little scarier for me. Maybe?—
Something slides up the wall behind me, and the sound of metal on stone sends a tremor up my spine. I whirl around, nearly overbalancing, and my eyes search the darkness only to find nothing at all.
“H-hello?” I ask, hating the stammer in my voice. “Is someone?—?”
“I’m curious.” The voice is soft, barely audible, but I can still hear it perfectly. “WhyScaredy Cat, hmm?” I know that low, charming purr, and my fingers go numb behind me.
“How are you here?” I breathe, wishing I could see anything at all. “Who—Whyare you here? You…” Fuck, I don’t want to, but I swallow my pride and continue, “You got what you wanted. You scared me at Dusk House.So why?—”
“Don’t lie to us both, babe,” the man cuts me off, and I don’t hear anything, yet suddenly there’s a hand on my face, tilting my chin upwards. “I didn’t scare you so much as I unsettled you. No, my little Scaredy Cat. I haven’t gotten what I wanted in the least. But I was even nice this time,” he coos. “I had my friends tell you to stay out. After all, you’re scared enough of me to bringyourfriends…” he trails off, tucking my hair behind my ear. “So I thought I’d bring mine too.”
“I could scream,” I say stupidly, blinking and feeling suddenly helpless in the dark. “I could?—”
“Scream?”He just laughs, his grip loosening and then dropping completely, though his hand brushes my arm. “You want to scream inhere?Go ahead.” The invitation is mocking, but I don’t make a sound. I only glare at where I think he is.
“No? You want me to go first?” I can feel him step away, and I hear him take a breath.
“Help me!”His voice rings in the darkness, bouncing off the walls of the cells. “Someone help me, please! Oh god, I need help! Someone come get me! Please, please I want out!”He’s so loud that my ears ache with it, and I take a step back as embarrassment and unease flood through me.
But of course, nothing happens. No one appears. No one comes running. His voice rings, echoes, and then dies without a response.
Because this is a haunted house, and screaming is just part of the show. Except this isn’t the show I signed up for when I got my tickets and showed up outside of Park Scream tonight.
“Fuck you,” I hiss under my breath, hating the burn of embarrassment in my chest as he chuckles.
“Nah, babe, we don’t have time for that tonight. But if that’s what you want…” His hand is back, trailing down my jaw and sending a shiver through me. “I’ll make sure to work that in for next time.”
Jerking back, I fight not to do something stupid like snarl or spit on him, but god it’s a close call. “I don’t want to fuck you. It’s an expression. I want you tostop.This isn’t funny, or cute, or…” I trail off when he unerringly finds my face again. “How the hell can you see me?” I demand.
His chuckle is the only verbal answer I get, but then he pulls his hand back, and I can hear a few noises in the dark whose source I cannot discern. Seconds later, something slides over my face, settling into place over my nose, and the room is suddenly visible in greens and fuzzy shapes.
“Night vision goggles,” he explains, letting me look around with them for a few seconds. “Ah—” when I try to look at his face, he suddenly pulls them away from me, tsking in disapproval and plunging me into darkness once again.
“I didn’t say you could see my face, Scaredy Cat. That’s not part of this game tonight. You’ll do something stupid, like go to the cops and tell them what I look like. Maybe you’ll tell all your followers who to look out for. But then again.” He steps closer suddenly, both hands coming up to cup my face. Leaning in, I feel the goggles brush my face, and his breath ghosts against my lips as he murmurs, “They like me, don’t they? Your followers. Theywantme to do this. To be here. They want to see how far I can push their precious Scaredy Cat.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t really care what they want,” I murmur, matching his tone and wishing I could do something,anything,to gain some kind of control in this situation. I jerk on the cuffs, hoping that they’re fake or plastic so I can snap them, but the metal is cold against my wrists, mocking me and proving me wrong.
“Yes, you do.” He slides his hands down my arms, pulling me close until I’m pressed against him. “Stop that,” he adds, stilling my arms. “You’re going to hurt yourself, and I’m not interested in that. Tell me, what will it take to really scare you, hmm?”
His hands are in constant motion, and it’s hard to focus on anything other than his wandering, gloved fingers. They smooth down my sides, digging into the thin fabric of my leggings before working back up to my waist.
“Nothing. That’s the point,” I reply bravely, tilting my head upward arrogantly. “Literally the whole idea of my blog is that I don’tgetscared.” God, I’m feeling bold tonight.
He chuckles. “No, it’s not. The whole point is you finding something to turn you into the Scaredy Cat you crave to be. And I’m here to give you that.”
“I don’t think you’re capable of that.” Okay, I’m being too bold. Way too bold, judging by how his hands suddenly still.
I worry for a moment I’ve pissed him off, that I’m really going to regret this, but then he chuckles, and I’m being walked backward until my back hits the wall again. “You know, you could lie to me,” he points out almost conversationally. “You could tell me something, and I could do it. Then you could act scared and hope that I’m satisfied. We could play pretend, and you could make sure I’m not interested in coming back for more. But you can’t, can you?” One hand suddenly grabs my chin, his thumb against my lower lip. “You’re tooproud.You’re arrogant, aren’t you, my little Scaredy Cat?”
“I’m—” The moment I open my mouth, his gloved thumb slides between my teeth. Surprised, I bite down, but he doesn’t really seem to care, judging by the fact he just tightens his grip on my chin with his thumb pressing hard against my bottom teeth.
Eventually my jaw aches from the pressure and I let up with a gasp. He does the same, though keeps his thumb on my tongue and his fingers under my chin.
