It feels like my eyeballs are physically cringing from all the pink. Did Barney come in here and shit everywhere? Jesus fucking Christ.
Addie’s light brown hair flashes in my peripheral. Just as my eyes slide to her, she’s disappearing behind a corner, getting chased by a monster. Their screams fill up the smoky atmosphere, bringing a smirk to my face.
It’s a good taste of what I’m going to make her sound like later.
My feet work on autopilot, trailing after her. I hear the door open again, followed by Mark and his friends’ voices. I’ll be sure to keep a firm barrier between my girl and the dipshits behind me.
Addie and Daya will have fun, undisturbed by the real monsters in the house.
It’s when they scramble up the stairs, a laughing heap of limbs and screams—I lose sight of them. I run up the stairs, hearing their screams from behind the first door.
I study the hallway system. There are too many doors in this hallway, making it physically impossible for this many rooms. Some of them are false doors, which means they could end up in any one of these rooms when they come out the other side. They might not even come back out in the hallway at all if the rooms connect on the inside.
Sighing, I make my way down the hallway, intent on peeking in a few rooms and finding the best place to camp. Singing erupts moments later, and I freeze from the ice-cold chills traveling down my spine, the hair on the back of my neck rising. It could be a part of the haunted house experience, but something niggles at the back of my mind. Warning me of incoming danger.
Not shit I can do about it until someone comes out swinging.
Ignoring the singing, I forge on. There should be an exit sign hanging over one of the doors in the case of a fire, so guests know where to evacuate. I suspect it’ll be in one of the back rooms. I can camp out in the room opposite, which will allow me to keep an eye on the hallway and I’ll know exactly when Addie leaves.
When I enter the room on the left, I sweep my eyes across the small area, looking for the exit. In tandem, I feel a presence come up behind me—one that doesn’t want to invite me to their tea party anytime soon—while mechanical mannequins burst from an armoire and a closet. My heart stalls in my chest, but I stay calm as I turn towards the malicious presence at my back.
The last thing I expect to see is the broken doll from earlier—the one taunting Mark.
Her brown hair is pulled up in pigtails, with pink bows wrapped around them. Dull, brown eyes stare at me, intent shining brightly behind the makeup on her face. Up close, she’s a lot creepier than I had expected.
Probably because the look in her eyes is murderous. I glance down, taking quick inventory of her. She’s wearing a thin white nightgown, leaving little to the imagination. I barely notice her nipples poking through the thin fabric. No, what my eyes lock in on is the outline of a knife strapped to her thigh.
My blood chills. If this bitch tries to hurt my little mouse…
“Where are they?” I ask, keeping calm. I’m waiting to see confusion bloom on her face, followed by a question on who I’m talking about. But she doesn’t give me that sense of security.
She seems to know exactly who I’m talking about.
“Safe from you,” she snips. Then she turns her head to the side, staring at the wall. “Let the others know two women are being followed and make sure they get away safely. I have this handled.”
I can’t help the smirk that tips up the corners of my mouth. While part of me is tripped up on who she’s talking to, I’m mostly amused that she thinks she can handle me.
Her eyes track something that I can’t see, as if she’s watching them leave.
“So, you’re crazy, huh?”
She rears back, offended by my assessment. Frankly, I couldn’t give a less of a shit.
Anxiousness is curdling in my stomach like spoiled milk. Addie and Daya still haven’t stumbled their way to the back of the hallway yet. And this little girl must think I’m like Mark and here to hurt them and well… she’s not entirely wrong. Except I’m only interested in hurting one of them, and by the time I’m done, she’ll love the way I make her scream.
She snaps, “Don’t call me that. You’re the one preying on women.”
I arch a brow, on the verge of laughing in her face. “That just makes me disturbed. Not crazy.”
Her tiny hands ball into tight fists, and a snarl pulls her face taut with anger.
The doll lifts her nightgown far enough to bring out the knife and kicks the door shut behind her.
I can’t tell if I should laugh or rage. She’s deliberately keeping me from my little mouse, and that makes me very fucking unhappy.