Page 76 of Double or Nothing
“Do you get motion sickness?” I hear him say before he grabs one end and sets it spinning around and around. “I forgot to ask.”
Yeah, he forgot to ask a lot of things.
The box spins again and again, disorienting me.
Oh my God.
Why, oh why, did I drink that flute of champagne on an empty stomach? I close my eyes against the dizziness, but the oppressive darkness envelops me, hot and stifling. Every nightmare I've ever had, every fear I've ever harbored—they're all closing in, magnified by the spinning and the crowd's laughter outside.
I’ve made a monumental mistake.
My breath comes in sharp, shallow gasps as I struggle against the panic rising within me. Why didn’t I just tell him about my claustrophobia, about how tight, dark places send me into terror? Because admitting that would have been an even greater humiliation.
I fight against the urge to lose my composure—and that glass of champagne all over the new white sweater he gifted me.
Wouldn't that be a lovely sight?
I try to assure myself that it's going to be fine, but the dark thoughts loom larger. Why did I do this? Because Seven is irresistible with a smile that can coax me into almost anything. Like crawling into a cramped box better suited for a doll than a person. And because I trust him completely, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me.
I take another deep breath, my chest tight. I’ve almost convinced myself things will be okay when I hear the deafening roar of a chainsaw revving up and coming closer.
Is that real? It sure as hell sounds real. I distinctively remember Seven complaining about how Giovanni didn’t want him using chainsaws in his shows. The memory does nothing to calm my rising panic.
“All okay in there, Jade?” he calls out loudly, throwing me a lifeline and bringing me back to reality. “Yell, if you can hear me.”
“I’m here!” I yell back.
“Nice meeting you,” he says. “Thanks for volunteering! I’ll see you on the other side one day!”
The lid vibrates when he puts the blade of the chainsaw against it right above my stomach. The wood splinters, the noise terrifyingly loud.
Oh, shit!
The chainsawisreal.
He’s cutting the box into pieces with me in it. My heart is pounding so violently that it echoes in my ears. I’m on the verge of a full-blown anxiety attack, the sides closing in on me.
If by some miracle I make it out of this mess alive, so help me God, Seven is a fucking dead man! I’m going to strangle him with my bare hands for this.
Without warning, the bottom drops out of the box, and I scream, the sound tearing from my throat.
32
SEVEN
Tonight’s show is on the verge of disaster. Sweat clings to my forehead as chaos erupts around me.
First, Elsa decided to go rogue and completely ignore me. There she was, playing around in the rafters of the theater, the spotlight on her white feathers, instead of flying straight to the front row.
I wasn’t kidding when I joked about never working with animals. Luckily, the audience thought Elsa’s screwing around was all part of the act.
Then Jade shocks the hell out of me by refusing to climb inside the box.
Who volunteers and then doesn’t want to participate? To be fair, Jade didn’t volunteer. I strong-armed her into coming up on stage and now I feel awful, the guilt gnawing at me. There was a genuine expression of terror on her face when she saw the box being wheeled onto the stage.
What the hell was up with that?
Surely, she’s aware that no actual harm will come to her? I would never intentionally place her in harm’s way. Everything is fake.
