Chapter 13

Chapter

Thirteen

T he walk to the park is cold, the air biting through my sweatshirt, each step a crunch of dry, dead leaves. An enormous hunter’s moon hangs in the sky, big and bright like a floating orb, casting eerie shadows that stretch and twist across the ground. Hayes holds my hand. It’s the only warmth I feel.

"This is going to be so much fun," Tessa says, her voice trembling with excitement. Her eyes dart around, reflecting the moonlight.

I nod, trying to ignore the knot twisting tighter in my stomach. Some deep, instinctual part of me is screaming to turn back, to leave, never come back here, but I push out a smile and keep walking. Behind us, Griffin yawns loudly, mumbling something about jump scares.

“Jump scares?” Marissa’s tone is high-pitched, grating. “I thought this was just an escape room, you know, where we solve riddles and find our way out.” Her eyes widen, and she clutches her sweatshirt tighter around her neck.

“It’s like none of you read any of the emails I sent,” Tessa sighs, crossing her arms as she picks up her pace.

“Which one was it in, the first or the fifty-sixth?” Jonathan says, laughing.

“I think it was the seventeenth,” Griffin chimes in with a chuckle. “You know, Tess, I’d pay more attention to your emails if they included some nudes.”

“Ugh, just shut up, Griffin,” Tessa snaps back.

I glance around at my friends and realize we’ve probably outgrown these trips and these friendships. But no one wants to be the first to admit it. We’re all stuck in old habits, clinging to childish rituals. It’s starting to feel toxic.

Lyle stands at the ticket booth. Tessa is the first to see him and excitedly kicks up her feet. “Hi, Lyle!” she calls out, waving her hand in the air.

“My God, she really doesn’t get out much, does she?” Marissa mutters under her breath. Jonathan mumbles something back, but I’m too far away to hear.

Lyle approaches us slowly, deliberately, a disturbing smile playing on his lips. Creepy-like. His uniform is disheveled, like he dressed in a rush, his zipper still undone. He greets everyone in a low whispery voice, rambles on about something, some rules to follow. My head feels foggy, his words distant. He keeps glancing at me, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. It’s disconcerting. Then he’s saying something else and holding out a clear plastic bag toward me.

“It’s okay,” Hayes whispers, leaning close, his breath warm against my ear.

“What is?” My heart races, my thoughts scatter. I can’t focus on anything.

“He’s collecting everyone’s cell phones so no one cheats.”

“Oh, I left mine in my room,” I lie. It’s in one of the hidden pockets of my sweatshirt, along with a mini bottle of whiskey. I hold my hands up to Lyle; empty, see?

He smirks, a crooked smile that sets my nerves on edge. No one else seems to notice as they drop their phones into the bag. I turn my eyes away.

Alright, stay close,” he says softly, his tone eerily calm.“Watch your footing along the path, the ground’s pretty uneven.”

“Yes, everyone be careful. Are we all set?” Tessa chimes in, trying to keep the energy light.

“Definitely, we have two hours, right? Marissa is awesome with riddles. We’ll be out in one,” Jonathan brags.

Oh, shut the hell up, Jonathan .

Lyle leads us down a narrow alleyway between tall tattered pavilions that once housed games of chance and magic. We pass by an old popcorn stand, its paint chipped and faded. An old popcorn machine sits inside, covered in a thick layer of dust, the glass cracked. I can almost smell the phantom scent of buttery popcorn, lingering in the cold, damp air.

To the right is a fortune teller's tent, its once-bright fabric now tattered and flapping gently in the breeze. The sign above the entrance reads "Madame Moira" in peeling gold letters. Through the dark slit in the canvas, I can just make out the outline of a small table with a crystal ball sitting atop it. I shiver, imagining the whispers of countless fortunes told and hopes dashed within those worn canvas walls.

Lyle takes us around a corner and down past the old carousel. Its faded horses stand frozen mid-gallop, their glassy eyes staring blankly ahead. I can almost hear the faint echoes of laughter and screams from the past, now ghostly whispers in the night air.

Ahead looms the funhouse, its entrance dominated by a giant clown face. The wide, sinister grin forms the door, while the windows, positioned as eyes, seem to follow us as we approach. The door is slightly ajar, creaking softly in the wind.

The knot in my stomach tightens, doubling in size. I don’t want to go in.

“This,” Lyle says darkly, “is the funhouse.”

“That’s creepy as fuck.” Griffin laughs.

Hayes pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my waist, his thumb slipping under the waistband of my jeans. “What kid would have ever wanted to go inside that?”

“Right?” Griffin says. “It looks like the clown is going to eat us.”

“I know who I want to eat right now,” Hayes murmurs against my ear.

I don’t even think it’s funny, but I hear myself laugh, a little too loudly, and everyone turns to look at me. I cover my mouth, stifling myself.

We each step through the clown’s mouth, crunching over broken glass and something soft and mushy. The air inside is dark and damp and reeks of piss. Dim, flickering lights cast long shadows that creep down the walls, creating an illusion of movement all around us.

The passage is long and narrow, lined with warped mirrors that distort our reflections into grotesque shapes. Tessa is giggling madly. Griffin lifts his shirt and admires his new elongated muscular abs. “I wonder what my dick would look like,” he jokes. Hayes chuckles and leads me away before he pulls it out to see.

“Might make it look better,” Tessa quips, and everyone bursts into laughter. I stay silent. I don’t want to be in here. None of this feels right.

"Do you hear that?" Lyle asks suddenly, his voice barely more than a breath.

It grabs everyone’s attention. We quiet down and listen. A door at the end of the hallway creaks open, revealing a room filled with old, dusty mannequins, their lifeless eyes staring blankly ahead. My stomach flips as one of them seems to shift slightly.

"Did you see that?" Tessa whispers, her voice quivering.

I nod, my throat too tight to speak. The mannequins are moving, ever so slightly, their limbs creaking as they turn toward us.

“That’s the stuff of nightmares," I manage to say, my voice a strained whisper.

“It sure is,” Lyle agrees, suddenly much closer to me than he was a moment ago.

I flinch, instinctively stepping back into Hayes, who thankfully steadies me with a reassuring grip and plants a quick kiss on the top of my head.

“It’s also the beginning of the game,” Lyle continues darkly. “Here is your first clue.” He hands Tessa a small blood-spattered envelope. “After one hundred and twenty minutes, if you’re not out, we come and get you.” He says the last five words like a warning. Then he walks out the way we just came in, leaving the six of us to start the game.

“This looks so fun, right?” Tessa says, flipping the clue over in her hands.

No, no it absolutely does not .

“Just open it,” Jonathan says flatly, arms crossed over his chest, “before we run out of time.”

“We’ve got a full two hours,” Griffin mutters, rolling his eyes. “Relax.”

Tessa carefully opens the envelope and pulls out a folded piece of paper, along with a tiny, chewed-up pencil. She holds them up, showing us, her shoulders lifting in a helpless shrug.

XQZWVPZ XHZ RKULVF KXE XZVFXZV ZXXFC. JXZQ PVLZFV VZJXZ Q KFLVVZVXQ FZZX XZ VVJ XFVQ LFXV HXQ ZK VX VKQX

“What kind of clue is that?” Marissa whines, slapping her hands against her sides in frustration.

I thought Jonathan said she was awesome at this, that she’d be done in an hour. They all start to bicker, blaming each other for not knowing what to do. Jonathan calls everyone stupid. Tessa almost cries.

“It’s a cryptogram,” I explain, trying to keep my tone friendly.

“A what?” Jonathan snaps, his irritation clear.

Everyone stares at me.

“It is a cryptogram. Tori’s right,” Hayes chimes in, pulling me in for a quick kiss. My cheeks flush as Jonathan’s expression darkens, his jaw clenching. Marissa’s lips press into a thin, tight line.

Hayes continues, unfazed by the tension. “A cryptogram is a type of puzzle where the letters of a message are substituted with other letters or symbols. We need to figure out which symbols correspond to which letters to decode the message. Is there a key somewhere on the paper?”

Tessa turns the note over, examining it carefully. “No, there’s nothing else on here.”

“Maybe Tori doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Jonathan goads. Marissa laughs.

“This is so fucking stupid. Can’t we skip this and go back?” Griffin gripes.

“The mannequins,” I say quietly. “Look what’s on them.”

Each mannequin hangs stiffly, dressed in faded, mismatched clothes from different eras—an old wedding dress with yellowing lace, a tattered military uniform, a sequined flapper dress with missing beads. And carved into their pallid, rubbery-like skin are letters crudely painted in dripping red ink. A mannequin in a floral dress, her eyes hollow and mouth frozen in a grotesque scream, has a letter “X" with a line through it, and beside it, the letter "T." Another mannequin in a moth-eaten tuxedo, missing one arm, displays a squiggly "Q," paired with the letter "H."

Griffin squints at the mannequins, his brow furrowing. “So, we’re supposed to match the symbols on the note with whatever is on the mannequins?”

“Exactly,” Hayes says. “Once we match them, we can decode the message.”

Marissa snatches the note out of Tessa’s hands. “I’ll do it. Give me the pencil.”

Tessa reluctantly hands the pencil to Marissa. “Aren’t we supposed to be doing it as a team?”

“No,” Marissa barks, her tone dripping with condescension, “because we’re not in middle school. Just be quiet for a minute and I’ll figure it out.”

The room falls into an uncomfortable silence. I shift uneasily.

Hayes slides his hand in the back pocket of my jeans and pulls me closer. He sweeps my hair away from my neck and kisses the sensitive skin just below my ear. Warmth zaps across my skin. It’s strange having Jonathan here to witness this, but it makes me instantly feel better. It feels right, good. I giggle softly when it starts to tickle.

Jonathan’s face turns twenty shades of red, and he looks down at his shoes.

“Okay, I’m done,” Marissa announces, breaking the silence. “That was easy.”

“Five minutes ago you didn’t know it was a cryptogram,” Tessa mutters under her breath.

Marissa pretends not to hear and reads the note. “ Through the bodies are thirteen doors. Each person choose a different door to see what fate has in store.”

“That’s it?” Jonathan asks, his tone sharp with irritation.

“Fuck it, I’m getting this over with and I’m going in,” Griffin declares, his voice brimming with impatience. “See you all on the other side.” He strides toward the hanging mannequins and disappears into the darkness behind them. Tessa, Jonathan, and Marissa follow slowly behind, shoulders slumped, feet dragging.

Hayes turns to me, smiling. “Come on, you ready?”

I nod, but the truth is, I’m not. Every instinct is screaming at me to turn around, grab my bag from Everwood, and head to the nearest chain hotel. A night of filthy sex with Hayes would be far preferable to whatever horrors this place has in store. But I push the thought away. It will be easier to just get it over with. “Yeah, let’s do it,” I say, trying to keep my voice firm.

He gently pushes a mannequin aside, making a path for us through the hanging bodies. We weave our way through, the weird rubbery material brushing against us like cold, dead hands.

It’s much darker on the other side.

A sickly yellow light barely illuminates the long room ahead. Little alcoves line the walls, each a potential hiding spot or trap. Shadows shift and dance, making it hard to move forward. There are half a dozen doors scattered along the hallway, each one slightly ajar, creaking with an ominous promise of what lies beyond.

“I wish we could skip this and go back to your room,” I mumble.

Hayes squeezes my hand reassuringly. “Come on, I have an idea,” he whispers.

I follow cautiously, I don’t want to fall. Hayes pulls me into a small, private nook hidden from view, a little alcove just big enough for the two of us. Without a word, he tilts my chin up and kisses me, his lips demanding and insistent. Dear Lord, he has perfect lips. My fingers grasp onto his shirt, and I can’t help the eager moan that escapes past my lips when his tongue tangles with mine.

Instantly I’m ravenous. More desperate than I was before. My body aches with need. I don’t want to stop again. I need, I need to feel a release.

He tugs his mouth away, warm breath against my lips. “I want to fuck you right here.”

“Right here,” I gasp, and my entire body ignites on fire. Yes, oh God, yes .

“My cock is so fucking hard right now. I can’t think straight. I need inside you,” he demands breathlessly.

I slip my hand inside the waist of his jeans, wrapping my hands around his shaft. He’s so thick and long, with a tip wet with precum.

“Give me that pussy,” he growls. He drops his hands to the button of my jeans, and jerks them open. My hand squeezes his cock as he tugs my pants down over my hips, and his breathing gets faster.

“Tell me you want this,” he says, nipping at my lips.

“Oh, I want this,” I say eagerly, pulling one leg out of my pants. “I want you to fuck me so bad right now, I don’t care if someone sees.”

He tugs his jeans and briefs down his thighs, his cock throbbing in my fist. “We’ll let them watch.”

I moan softly, thrilled by his bold words. The thought of being taken right here, where anyone could stumble upon us, sends a shiver of excitement down my spine. “Fuck me, Hayes. I want…I need you to fuck me.”

He leans down, wrapping his arms under my ass and hoists me up onto the small ledge of the alcove. I gasp, letting go of his cock to grasp onto the edges to catch myself from falling.

“I got you,” he grunts, spreading my legs apart. Cool air hits my skin, sending goose bumps down my arm. Even though it’s dark, I’m on full view if anyone walks past us, the thought sends a pulse a pleasure through my core.

"You're dripping wet for me," he rasps, trailing a finger over my flesh. I whimper and arch back against the wall. "Such a naughty girl, getting turned on where someone might see."

"I can't help myself around you," I pant.

“Yeah? Do you have any idea what you do to me? What you’ve done to me for years?”

I whimper as his fingers play with me.

“I thought about you when I masturbated,” he rumbles, “but I never imagined you would feel this fucking good.” He notches the broad head of his cock at my entrance, rubs it over the slick opening. The heaviness of his cock presses against me, its warmth and silkiness making my legs tremble. With one powerful snap of his hips, he sheaths himself inside me, forcing the breath from my lungs.

Oh, God, yes .

"Fuck, you're gonna make me come already," he pants against my neck.

His cock stretches me in the most delicious way, and a bead of pleasure already starts to build. I slap my hands over my mouth to keep quiet as he begins to move, pounding into me.

He reaches up, yanking my hands away. “Don’t you dare keep quiet, I want to hear you. I want everyone to hear you.”

He thrusts faster and faster. His words and the thought of someone hearing us, finding us, watching us makes the coil of warmth spread out from my core like a fucking tidal wave. I can’t stop it, it feels too good—it builds and swells as he slams his body against mine. I wrap my legs around the back of his hips, nails scraping into his shoulders, my whole body vibrating.

Heat courses through me like lightning as he drives into me. I moan wildly, unable to hold back as the sensations overwhelm me. "Yes, yes, right there!" I cry out, my voice echoing off the walls.

He groans, a deep, primal sound. One hand fists in my hair while the other grips my hip, holding me in place as he takes me with wild abandon. "You feel so good," he growls. "So fucking tight."

I'm lost to the intensity, my body no longer my own. It belongs to him, to this moment. I'm climbing higher and higher, chasing my release. I whimper. "I'm so close. I’m gonna come."

He reaches between us, finding my clit. He rubs firm circles and I nearly scream, my back arching off the wall. "Who’s going to make you come?" he growls.

“You are,” I pant. “You’re going to make me…” I can’t form words as I tip over the edge. My pussy clenches tight around his cock as the orgasm crashes through me in intense, shuddering waves. "Ahh, I'm coming!" I moan, seeing stars behind my closed eyelids.

He kisses me hard, swallowing my cries as his own body tenses. With a deep groan, he finds his release, emptying himself inside me.