Roza had to know, didn’t she? She’d said she liked my story. But then again, was it so hard to believe that she’d never actually read it? That she’d just said that because she wanted to make me feel better after humiliating me in front of the group the first night?
“There was a large path; I think it used to be a tractor path,” Wren went on. “One that we always followed. But somehow we found ourselves on this little trail. And the strangest part was that we couldn’t hear the fireworks anymore. We couldn’t see the flashes. The woods were completely silent. We said how weird it was, that there weren’t even any crickets. I had this feeling that we were on a movie set, that everything was fake. The trail opened up, and we were relieved, because we thought we were back on the main path. But then it just stopped. We were in a small clearing. It was a warm night and we were just wearing tank tops and shorts. But in this clearing, it was cold.”
A dark fury gripped my spine. How dare she? She was telling my story, in almost my exact words. And with every sentence it was like she was stealing it: my memory. My experience. Using me, taking from me, as she’d always done.
I wanted to run at her, covering her mouth, tackling her to the floor.
But I couldn’t. Because then I’d be the crazy one.
“And then,” Wren continued, her eyes wide, “when we turned around and decided to go back, we couldn’t find the path.”
Poppy gasped and then laughed at her reaction.
“We walked around the whole perimeter of the clearing, but the path was gone. And we were just starting to freak out when we heard something. It was Christina’s mom calling to us, and we heard sounds like she was walking towards us. We went in that direction and started yelling for her. I remember we were clinging to each other, we were so relieved. But then the sound of her voice came from further away. It got fainter and fainter. We just stood there. And Christina turned to me, and I’ll never forget what she said. She whispered: ‘I think it’s trying to trick us.’？”
“Whoa,” Taylor muttered, impressed.
Just get through it. I locked my arms against my chest. Wren was baiting me, just waiting for me to freak out in front of Roza. It wasn’t going to happen.
“We backed away from where the sounds had been coming from and went to the other side of the clearing. Christina was saying we should just walk out through the trees. But I thought that we’d definitely be lost. We had no idea where we were. And the trees and brush around the clearing was super thick, like it was trapping us in. And then”—Wren paused for dramatic effect—“we saw something.”
“What?” Poppy whispered.
“It was big.” Wren tucked back her hair with both hands. “And it was right at the edge of the clearing. We saw the leaves shake. And there was this smell… it’s hard to even describe. Halfway between wet dog—”
And something rotting.
“And something rotting. I saw these two shiny circles, these orbs way up in the trees. Eyes. And this heavy, sighing sound. Without even looking at each other, Christina and I plunged into the trees. We flat-out ran. I banged my shoulder against a tree, which was excruciating, but I kept going. After a few minutes, we slowed down to see if it was coming after us. And that’s when we heard…”
“The monster?” Taylor asked, chewing on a nail.
“The fireworks.” Wren smiled. “It took some time, but we followed the sound and finally reached the main path. It was the most relieved I’ve ever felt in my life. By the time we got back, we were both bruised and bleeding, just totally cut up. Christina’s mom sobered up fast when she saw us. She helped us clean our scratches. Christina told her what happened, and her mom just kept saying that we shouldn’t have gone into the woods at night.”
“What did your parents say?” Poppy asked, hushed.
Wren had asked me the same thing.
“I never told them.” Wren shook her head sadly. “They wouldn’t have believed me. Especially my mom.”
“What the fuck!” The words burst out. Everyone looked at me, confused. Except for Wren. She just watched me coolly.
“What is wrong with you?” I cried. “Do you really think that’s okay?” I struggled to lower my voice but I couldn’t. All the disbelief and rage poured out like toxic sludge.
“What’s okay?” Taylor glanced back and forth between us.
“That’s my story.” I said it through gritted teeth. “It happened to me. I wrote a short story about it. Which Wren read.”
“It’s a game.” Wren blinked, innocent. “Roza said we could tell a story that happened to us or someone we know.”
“But I’m sitting right here,” I cried. “You can’t do that. You can’t just take whatever you want.” My hands were curled into claws, and I forced them under my thighs. The rage was back, coursing through my body. I wanted to throttle her, then rip off her skull and throw it into the fire.
“Aw, man.” Taylor sighed. “Now we know it’s a true story. We can’t guess whether Wren made it up just now.”
“Are you okay?” Keira asked me. Her look of concern chastened me.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, it’s just… I don’t think that was fair.” My shoulders hunched forward. Great. Now everyone thought I was some lunatic who couldn’t handle a stupid game.
Roza had been silent, watchful. But now she shrugged. “Wren didn’t do anything I said she couldn’t do, dear.”
“Well, it’s a great story.” Taylor patted my arm. “So that really happened to you?”
“Yes. I still have a scar from those branches.”
“Well.” Roza stood, took a taper candle off the table, and handed it to Wren. “You’ll get to take a candle, dear, since we never got a chance to vote.”
Wren stood to accept it with that smug, infuriating smile.
“So now, you’ll go into the basement,” Roza went on. “Look for a table with a hand mirror and five candles. Your job is to look in the mirror and blow out one candle.”
“Where’s the basement?” Wren asked uneasily.
“Yana will show you.” Roza indicated Yana, who stood in the doorway. Had she been there the whole time?
After Wren left, I stood. “I think I’m going to go upstairs.” The disgust and unease roiled in my stomach, both at Wren and at Roza for defending her. And most of all myself, for completely losing it. I’d played right into Wren’s hands.
“No,” Roza said. “You have to finish the game.”
“I don’t want to play the game.” I hated the whininess in my voice. “Plus I don’t have a story.”
“Then make something up. Or just sit and listen.” There was a note of exasperation in Roza’s voice. I sat, trying to quell frustrated tears.
Wren came back a few minutes later, giggling and flushed.
“Well, that’s terrifying.” She set the candle back on the mantel and then plopped down beside Poppy.
Taylor and Keira went next. Taylor shared a story of seeing her deceased friend in the tiny room of a yacht when she was sixteen; Keira, of spending six months in a haunted apartment. They were guessed to be true but were both revealed to be made up. So both got candles to take downstairs.