The House of Mirrors has always been one of my favorite places. It’s an elaborate maze of mirrors, and very difficult to find your way out of. It’s one of the biggest buildings at the fair, and they fill every inch of it with mirrors.
The fair will close in about a half-hour. It’s pushing it, but it should be just enough time to get through it if I concentrate.
The house is painted all black—no array of colors, flashing of lights, or smoke. I’ve always thought it was trippier like this. Sometimes it feels like being in a silent room, left with nothing but your thoughts as your own image haunts you.
It takes all of five minutes before I’m thoroughly lost. I keep my hands held out before me, preventing me from running face first into one of the mirrors.
I did that a couple of years ago and my nose was bruised for a week.
A few minutes pass by with nothing but the company of my own reflection. My heart rate is pumping erratically, my breathing uneven with excitement. Despite the pounding in my chest, this is where I feel most… normal.
Off in the distance, I hear a faint shuffling of feet. Not very many people come in here, especially this late, but there’s plenty of people who like to take on the challenge.
Continuing on my wayward path, I concentrate on where I’m going, soon forgetting about anything else going on around me. The trick is to focus on the floor and not your reflection.
Just as I almost face plant a mirror, I hear a dark chuckle. My head snaps up, the tone of the laugh sounding evil. A spark of adrenaline ignites, pumping the chemical into my heart and kicking up the speed further.
Did an employee dressed as a monster sneak in here to mess with me? I wouldn’t hold it past them. They’re known to follow people around and terrorize them.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turn to find my bearings. If there is a creepy monster in here with me, I’d rather they not get close enough that I have to look at a thousand of their reflections.
Finding my way past the mirror that almost gave me a nose job, I start ahead again.
“Little mouse.” The whisper seems to travel from every direction.
My limbs lock, not sure if my imagination is playing tricks on me or if Zade is actually here.
Unfreezing, I force myself to keep moving, hoping I’m just imagining things.
“Where are you, little mouse?”
I gasp, the deep voice closer. Another sinister chuckle echoes, and Jesus Christ, this man is capable of evil. No one sane sounds like that.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I take three deep, calming breaths, trying to ease my racing heart.
He’s fucking with me. Trying to scare me. And it’s fucking working when I’m trapped in a maze of mirrors, and he’s laughing like a goddamn lunatic.
He can’t just let me have my night, can he? For once, I didn’t think about him and my conflicting feelings. And though Zade doesn’t quite scare me as much—except for maybe right now—the feelings he brings out of me certainly do.
Maybe if I keep quiet, he won’t find me.
Restarting my path, I quicken my pace until I’m speed walking through the labyrinth of mirrors.
I’ve no idea how far I am, but I don’t even think I’ve made it halfway through.
It’s right then that I see the first image of Zade reflected back at me. Dressed in all black, with his scarred face hidden deep in his hood. I gasp, whipping around just to find more of his reflection.
He’s not behind me, but he’s somewhere close.
“Stop it,” I bite out, fear constricting my chest.
He doesn’t answer, and of course, the fucker doesn’t listen. I’m caught in a whirlwind, my body continuously moving in circles, desperate to pin exactly where he is.
“You all alone, baby girl?”
I swallow. “Obviously,” I whisper, still searching for where he is. It feels like I shouldn’t have said that.
“No one here to save you?”
A shot of anxiety hits me in the chest.
“Why the hell would I need to be saved, Zade? You going to hurt me?”
It’s then he lifts his head, just enough for me to provide a view of his mouth. A wicked smirk is stretched across those lips.
I try to remember that he won’t hurt me. He was just in my bed a week ago, sad and vulnerable. By the time I opened my eyes in the morning, he was gone, and I haven’t heard from him since.
But my brain is having trouble connecting who he is now to who he was then.
Because now… he looks savage.
“I’m going to ruin you,” he corrects. I take a step back, a lump forming in my throat. His image moves, his body walking in a different direction. Is he coming closer? I can’t tell. I take another step back, the adrenaline in my system rising to dangerous levels.
He’s scaring me.
“Run,” he growls. My lungs constrict at the guttural command. “If I catch you, I fuck you.”
Eyes widening, I listen, my body catapulting into action.
I run.
In here, I’m completely vulnerable to him. I’m well and truly trapped in the spider’s web, and the son of a bitch is poisonous.
His reflection follows me everywhere I go. There were a few times I was convinced I’d truly lost him, seeing nothing but my own image. And then he’d step out from somewhere, crushing my hopes.
After a few minutes, I’m out of breath. The adrenaline and fear are getting to me. My chest is constricted too tight, my lungs reduced to strings and no longer capable of holding oxygen.
I’m lost and trapped with a very dangerous man who is going to absolutely devastate me. I don’t think I’m running from him anymore, but rather from the person I’m going to be when he’s finished with me.
I was ready to give myself over to him when he emerged from my balcony doors and came to me with a heavy heart. The man put some type of spell on me, because when he was hurting, all I wanted to do was make him feel better. Give myself over to him if that’s what would help.
But I know that I would’ve woken up the next day and hated myself. Because I would’ve slept with a stalker, a murderer and a man who has forced himself on me on several occasions. I would’ve slept with a man who doesn’t respect my boundaries, my personal space, or the word no.
And I know without a shadow of a doubt that’s exactly what’s about to happen. How do I accept that? How do I toss away the moral compass that’s been directing my entire life?
For a man that I should loathe, but… I don’t. I just don’t. He’s all those things, but he’s also one of the most admirable men I’ve ever met. The devotion and passion he has for saving women and children stolen away from their homes and lives, he’s doing something massive in the world and making an impact in a substantial way. I can't even begin to put into words the way he makes me feel.
He’s such a fucking oxymoron. Contradicting in the most agonizing ways.
And despite his cracked moral compass, I feel safe with him. Even now, when fear is rewiring my brain.
I stop running, panting heavily.
Hopeless.
That’s what running from Zade is. Fucking. Hopeless.
Chest pumping, I wait for him to find me. Obviously, I’m not going to be able to outrun him. My only chance of escaping is to somehow incapacitate him, and then try to run.