The Games We Play

13. Twelve - Tess

Twelve - Tess

“What?” I stammer. “What do you mean, done?” I frantically search for the switch to flick the mask on. When I find it, I’m alone.

Done ? As in, I won’t see him again ?

Was this all an elaborate setup by X? These bracelets? What about Ryan?

“What the fuck?” I check my phone.

Four hours.

I have to find him before the Haunted Nights closes and if I don’t, I’ll what? Lose him forever?

This is ridiculous. He’s just a man—someone who broke into my house one night and has continued to do so. But I want him. I don’t know how to explain it. I haven’t even fucked him yet, but he’s coursing through my veins, and I still don’t know who he is.

The plastic of the mask in my hand digs into my palm as I squeeze tighter. I pull it over my face, keeping the lights off, and stride off into the woods. This place is fifteen acres and has four different attractions. He could be anywhere, constantly moving. My best guess is he’ll walk through the haunted woods first, then go to the next attraction. If I run, I should be able to catch him. Besides, this won’t be that hard. The scariest attraction is the clown house, and, well…I’ll deal with that when I get to it.

A group of people are walking along the trail, and they scream when I step out of the trees.

“That’s a sucky costume,” one of them grumbles. When someone dressed as a werewolf—the underworld kind, not the cuddly ones—jumps from the other side and, they scramble on top of each other at the grotesque sight. The wolf looks at me, and I back up a few steps. Its yellow feral gaze locks onto the bracelet on my wrist, and it lunges.

Fuck.

I take off at a sprint, leaving the whoops and shouts of the group behind me. I’m free game out here. This damn bracelet has become a personal beacon of fuck with me .

The actor gives off a very realistic howl that follows me down the trail. How many more creatures are out here looking to snatch me up? My hands shake as I try to run, but also remain cautious of my surroundings. I have just as good of a chance of running past X as I do of finding him.

Someone disguised in a Gilly suit jumps up from the ground just as I nearly step on them. I jump back and trip over a root, landing on my ass. The creature grabs my ankle, and I scramble to roll my body and pull myself free. It drags me back the way I came—debris from the forest floor slices into my skin.

“No!” I scream and claw at the ground. Dirt and rocks wedge under my fingernails. I’m drug past the family from earlier, and they applaud the realism .

“That blood even looked real!” one of them praises.

Blood ?

I kick at the person again, and the grip on my ankle falls away. I scramble back and race down the path once more. Someone jumps out from behind the tree, his face painted in army paint, and half of it looks like the flesh has been peeled off. Fake blood and gore complete his zombie attire. He grabs my throat, the force of my body propelling my legs forward as he jerks me back. His tongue rakes up my neck, and I writhe in his grip.

“You’ll never find him, Puppet.” I fight against his words. “Why don’t you just stay with me instead? Become one of the undead .”

His deep, guttural chuckle sends goosebumps over my arms. It reminds me of Seth. He drops me, and I fall to my knees, gasping for breath.

“Run, little girl! Run!”

More undead jump out from the trees, reaching for me, trying to claim me as their own. But there’s only one pair of hands I want brandishing me. I just have to find him. My heart thunders in my chest at the chase.

Every snapping twig and pounding footstep is an ensemble accompanying my pounding heart. My shirt snags on branches, but I keep pushing myself as it rips away. I can’t stop; they’re too close. My logical brain says I’m safe. This is all for show. But my body reacts as the prey I am and I can’t get caught.

I’m at the end before my brain registers it, sprinting into the back of someone loitering outside the attractions. I look up to find a mutilated pig head staring down at me. It swings a bat that would put Neegan’s to shame and stalks in my direction. There are flashes from cameras behind the pig as it screams a high-pitched squeal, and I cover my ears with my hands.

A familiar scraping sound comes from behind me, and I whirl to see the actor from earlier sliding along the blacktop. He slides up to stand before me, his nose almost touching the mask on my face. I reach up to remove it, but his hand grabs my wrist to stop me.

“X?” I whisper. He tilts his head and glances at the bracelet on my wrist.

If you get it wrong, our games are over . His threat lingers in my mind. This person’s touch doesn’t turn my blood to fire like my stranger.

“Tess!” Ryan shouts over the crowd. I spot him at the entrance of the haunted woods, weaving through the crowd and searching. Fake blood is smeared across his face, and his clothes are torn. Looks like he didn’t get off scotch-free.

“Tick Tock, Puppet,” the actor says, pointing at the barn where the pig stands at the entrance. The way he says my pet name confirms he is not my stranger. The accent is all wrong. This man makes it sound more like pup-it.

Once again, I cast a glance at Ryan, my mask distinguishing me as yet another anomaly in this gathering of creatures. I’m not ready for this game to end. I’m so close to finding out who X is. Abandoning Ryan, I let the man lead me to the front of the line of Haunted Barn. The pig opens the door for me to step inside, and a dense fog creeps out. The sound of chopped bones comes from inside.

With the door closing behind me, the pig’s bat pokes into my back. I quickly move forward, not wanting to waste a second of trying to mind my masked man. A table saw whirs to life in the next room. I step through the plastic curtains, and fake blood splatters across my body. It’s warm, soaking into my shirt and on my exposed skin.

Please be fake .

I fight through the urge to gag as a hairy, sweaty man in a sleeveless shirt with a large triangle-shaped helmet that obscures his entire face steps in front of me. He drags a blade, almost the same size as him, along the floor.

Fake . It’s all fake , I remind myself.

But that doesn’t convince the instinct I have to run. When he swings up his blade, I duck under his raised arm into the next room. The sound of metal crashing to the floor behind me where I was just standing is…real. Metal on metal. Did X plan to make this the most dangerous game? Is my life actually in danger here?

I shimmy between what feels like giant balloons full of air that squish against my body. Hands grab my ankles, and I whirl around, trying to find who’s after me, but I can’t see anything. I kick out, hoping to hit something, and the hand releases me. I pump my legs to get me away from here and free fall into an empty room, landing on my hands and knees. My palms burn from the impact on the dirt and rocky ground. Cradling them to my stomach, I search for the next sign of danger.

I can’t see anything through the bright green haze. I’m grabbed at the ankles again, and they pull me across the room. With all my strength, I claw at the ground, hoping to escape. They stop and pin my legs under their weight, and their hands slide up my legs, over my ass, and skim under my shirt. I scream and swing my fists wildly, bucking my body, trying to get them off.

“Please!” I beg for X to hear me, to step out of the fog and put this to an end. Images of Seth pinning me down and taking what wasn’t his pumps my heart faster, and I can’t breathe .

“Puppet,” multiple voices murmur and overlap each other. It’s Seth all over again. I’m stuck here, forced to endure something I don’t want to. Something nobody should ever have to.

Tears well in my eyes, and my body shakes. I can’t take this; it’s too much. I won’t find him.

“Stop!” I scream and swing my arms around. My elbow crunches, connecting with something hard, and pain shoots up my arm and down to my hand.

“You bitch!” The person moves, and I army-crawl forward, racing out of this place of nightmares. Entering a haunted house knowing the workers can’t touch you is one thing, but the fear turns real when all those rules go out the window.

It is real—all of it.

X isn’t here. He wouldn’t let anyone touch what belongs to him. I dive through a plastic tunnel, and cymbals clash overhead. I land on a musty mattress and look behind me. A giant monkey leaps from the top of the tunnel and rushes toward me on all fours.

He’s just a person. But my mind is breaking into tiny pieces, and I can’t think past the fear. This is part of X’s sick and twisted game. My body bounces off the wood-slatted walls I hastily back into. Hands reach out to grab me from behind. My throat is raw from screaming, and tears soak my cheeks under my mask. I have to get out of here. My vision tunnels, blinding me from the dangers in my periphery.

The rev of a chainsaw stops me in my tracks. Did that come from in front of me…or behind me?

“Puppet,” a male voice sings out. I spin, searching for the source, but there’s no one there. When I turn back around, a man in a flannel raises the chainsaw high and pulls the handle, causing the blade to spin .

There’s no chain . There’s no chain . There’s no—

He brings the chainsaw down on the wooden beam at eye-level with me. Chips of wood spit back at me, and I’m thankful for a brief moment that I’m still wearing the mask.

But that means…my heart drops, and I run. The rev of a chainsaw follows close behind me, drowning all other sounds around me.

Not fake. None of this is fake. How far is X willing to take this game? Would he let me die?

Of course, he would. He’s a stalker, not someone who actually cares for me. He’d let men have their way with me before I begged for death to take me instead. This is the kind of thing he gets off on. He’s a fucking monster. A psychopath…and still, I have this drive to find him.

I bust through the exit of the barn, covered in dirt and blood, and look like I belong in this hell. I don’t stop until I’m hiding behind the portable toilets in the shadows. My body vibrates, and I can’t breathe. Since I was a kid, I’ve had this nervous habit of running my fingers through my hair, but it’s matted and disgusting.

I could leave. I’m this close to the car. Go and wait for Ryan to find me. What’s keeping me here besides my own delusions? I crouch and force several deep breaths, pulling the mask from my face and flip it around, turning on the lights, burning the X’s into my pupils.

It’s irrational. Insane. I am fucking insane for becoming obsessed with someone who breaks into my house, keeps me in pitch-black darkness, refuses to let me see his face, and hasn’t even fucked me.

I trace the lines of the mask with my finger and remember how it felt to see him towering over Seth’s body. Then he ghosted me for weeks, only to show up now and make my night of fun a living hell .

Laughter bubbles up in my chest. The attractions and actors have nearly scared me to death tonight. This is why you come to a haunted house—isn’t it? If you don’t come to get scared, then why? There’s only the asylum and clown house left. I slide the mask over my face and stand, staring at the final two attractions—the last trials of his game.

I’m going to find X, even if it’s just to prove to him I can.

I can save myself, fight my own battles, and come out on top.

I’m not a pathetic girl waiting around for him to call the shots.

“Puppet?” a woman shouts over the crowd. I stay where I am, hidden.

“Puppet…” a man sings amongst the crowd.

More people join in until my name becomes a chant. The crowd is clueless about why they’re saying puppet and what it means.

But I know.

He is waiting for me. And fuck it all; I’m going to win.