Page 19 of His to Fear
I fight to remain standing, gaining my composure just in time for the lights to turn off, bringing with it the sensation of experiencing a tornado with no shelter in sight. There’s nowhereto run, even when I’m aware of the danger.
As the light flickers on once more, a figure suddenly appears right before me, further down the hall. An ominous presence, sucking the oxygen in the room with him. I swallow harshly, knowing it’s only yet another scare actor, but this one feels more ominous and eerie. The lights turn off again, leaving me standing in the darkness.
With no idea what will come next, my breathing grows once again ragged, and I curse Eveline for ever bringing me to this fucking fair. The fair’s tactic is good—I’ll admit that—splitting up the groups to leave them vulnerable and alone.
When the lights flicker back on, he’s even closer than before. I gasp in a sharp intake of breath, freezing in place. As if doing so will prevent him from noticing me, even when we’re the only two people in this hallway.
I manage to take in more details of his appearance: dark and brooding. Tall with broad shoulders stretching against dark clothes. Staring at him, I wonder if he can see me, then realize I’m foolish for ever believing so. Of course, he can see me—my black lace dress, now soaked with sweat and paranoia.
The lights sputter again, on and off. Each time brings him nearer, and every time, the sound of metal scraping against concrete gnaws at my ears, growing sharper with every heartbeat.
Eventually, I can’t even see him anymore.
“Stay away. Please,” I plead, my voice ragged, not caring about how pathetic I sound.
I squeeze my eyes shut and lean against the wall. Dizziness swirls through me from the lack of oxygen, the edges of my vision ultimately darkening, and I collapse onto the floor when my legs give way underneath me.
There’s a chill in the room, and my fingers have yet to return to normal body temperature. They’re just as numb and stiffas when I was outside, and it makes me stumble as I crawl backward on all fours. I’m desperate to get away from him.
Blood paints the room: it’s in the handprints on the walls; in the pool thick and dark ahead of me; in the trails I leave behind as I drag my way forward through the slickness.
The coppery stench creeps into my nostrils until that’s all I can feel.
I keep staring at the meat hooks tied to the ceiling, hanging in neat rows and swaying as though something had just been taken from them.
Then comes the sound, metal clawing at the walls.
I never thought I’d die inside a haunted fair.
Here I am.
I hear his intake of breath, the dragging of the blade growing louder. Then, a haunted, circus melody he’s humming.
He’s here.
“If you hear the butcher’s blade scraping against the floors, it’s already too late.”
The sentence echoes in my head like a curse cast upon me, and I imagine this all to be real. It feels too much like that night two years ago. No amount of therapy could have prepared me for feeling like this again, seeing blood.
I didn’t know this house would be this bad. Thisreal.
I curl up on the floor when my back hits the furthest wall, my forehead supported by my knees, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Forcing them to stay closed.
Breathe, Nadia. Just fucking breathe. It’s not that hard.
But it is.
And then, the panic of it all turns into fear, forcing tears out of my eyes until I’m fucking sobbing. Water streaming down my cheeks in embarrassing rivulets.
I hear footsteps coming closer, but they’re so distant in my clouded mind, I barely register them.
“Calm down. Breathe, yeah?” A dark, husky voice envelops me. Soothing.
I feel a warm and comforting hand touching my cheek, and I open my eyes. I can’t see him in the darkness, but I can feel him. His presence, emanating through the small space we’re in, and I somehow know it’s him. The stranger from the circus. The man from the forest who took me to the edge of the precipice.
His hand clamps around my wrist, circling my waist, preventing me from escaping him.
I try to speak, but the words are stuck in my throat. “Breathe with me,” he murmurs.
