Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

I pull the mini bottle of whiskey from my pocket and take another sip. Just a gulp left. I don’t know how I’ll make it through the rest of this game without it. My throat is parched and my nerves frayed to the breaking point.

I follow the sounds of Tessa’s sobbing. She’s bent over, heaving with gut-wrenching sobs. Jonathan stands over a heap of something on the ground. I know it’s him, because unfortunately, I’d recognize his backside anywhere.

I hurry over. “Do you guys know the way ou?—”

The words die on my tongue as the heel of my boot slips in something slick with a sickening wet squish. There’s something dark and red puddled on the floor. My mind comes up with a thousand different things it could be before it settles on one.

Blood.

I hear myself gasp, the sound barely registering over the roaring pulse in my ears. My muscles lock up, and a wave of cold sweat washes over me, slicking my skin and plastering my hair to my neck.

Marissa lies crumpled on the floor, rising out of a dark, viscous puddle of blood. Her eyes stare straight ahead, glassy and unseeing. Her lips, a ghastly shade of grayish-blue, are pulled back and curved into a grotesque smile, frozen in mid-laugh. Her skin is drained of color, pallid and lifeless. Her neck swollen, bruised blue. Something metallic and sharp juts from the side of her throat, slick with blood.A thin stream trickles over her chest and shoulders, pooling beneath her in a perfect circle.

She’s been stripped down to her bra and underwear, the sight both intimate and violating. Her jeans and sweater are neatly folded beside her, arranged with disturbing precision—jeans with the cuffs rolled just so, a sweater meticulously folded with sleeves tucked in. Her earrings, delicate silver hoops, and her necklace, a simple gold chain, rest atop the folded clothes. Her diamond ring, cruelly sparkling, crowns the bundle.

A strangled sob escapes me. I want to look away, to turn my eyes from the gruesome sight, but I’m frozen. I can’t tear my gaze from Marissa’s body—the lifeless eyes, the twisted smile, the neat folds of her clothes. It’s fucking horrifying.

“What…happened?” I choke out, my voice breaking. My boots slip in the blood again, squelching wetly. The sound is sickening.

Jonathan whirls around, his face pale and eyes wide. “Is this some sort of sick joke?” he shouts, his voice cracking with fury and fear. His hands are shaking, spattered with blood. His gaze darts between Marissa’s body and me, franticly.

My entire body trembles, my knees weakening as if they might collapse.“Tessa? What…what’s happening?” I can’t look away from the sea of dark, viscous red that seems to spread endlessly across the floor. Burning whiskey shoots up the back of my throat, and I have to suck back a deep pull of air to force it back down.

Tessa is shaking, her body vibrating with violent sobs. Vomit stains her shirt and pants, chunks of gray food and bile soaking the fabric. Her eyes are wide, darting around the room like a cornered animal. “I-I-I… don’t know,” she stammers, her voice choked with terror.

Jonathan’s face contorts with rage, his hands clenched at his sides. “It was that guy!” he shouts, his voice rising in a frantic pitch.

“What guy?” I scream back, desperation clawing at my insides. My mind is a whirl of confusion and terror, every nerve in my body screaming for an explanation, for some semblance of sanity. Nothing this weekend makes any sense. Not one fucking thing.

“The one you fucked! He was following her. Scaring her.” Jonathan’s words are like sharp knives, slicing and slicing me.

I rub at my eyes with the tips of my fingers until my mind fills with sparks. My limbs feel drugged, my fingers prickling with pins and needles. This can’t be real. It has to be some sick, twisted part of the game, right? I need a drink—anything to dull the edge. I look for my bottle of whiskey but it’s gone, lost in the chaos. I can’t remember where I put it. My mouth is so dry, it hurts to swallow.

A loud buzzer suddenly shatters the silence, its staticky blare jolting through me like a bolt of lightning. A booming voice follows, “There’s one hour left…but now, the rules have changed.” The words vibrate through the room, reverberating in my chest, mingling with the rapid thump of my heart. "I’m coming to find you now, and believe me... you won’t want me to."

Tick-tock, your time is running out .

Tessa’s head slumps back against the wall, and a long strand of saliva dangles from her mouth. The movement jolts a table beside her, sending a vase crashing to the floor. It shatters into a thousand glittering shards, scattering across a dark puddle of blood. "What the fuck... what the fuck... what the fuck..." Her voice rises, teetering on the edge of hysteria.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” Jonathan mutters, his eyes wide, darting around the room like a trapped animal.

My stomach drops. “What are you going to do?” I cry.

“He’s coming…he’s going to kill us all.” His words are a death sentence, an unshakable certainty that sends a fresh wave of panic coursing through my veins.

I reach out, grabbing his arm. “Wait, Jonathan we should stay?—”

“No!” he screams in my face, his spit hitting my skin. “Stay the fuck away from me.” He shoves me back, his strength sending me sprawling. I crash down into Marissa's lifeless body, the contact with her lukewarm, clammy flesh making me shriek. I scramble to get up, sliding my palms in the slick blood that covers the floor. The sticky warmth coats my hands, and bile rises in my throat, the whiskey I swallowed earlier burning its way back up.

“Jonathan!” I shriek, as he bolts out of the room. “Don’t you dare leave us!”

Tessa slides down the wall, whimpering. “I don’t want to die.” Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated with terror. She clutches her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth.

It feels as if the room is collapsing inwards, the air heavy and stifling. My hands are covered in blood, and it’s all I can smell. The metallic tang fills my nose, and mixing with the scent of vomit, it makes me gag again, spitting up fiery bile.

Tessa’s sobs grow louder, her body rocking faster, more frantic.

I force myself upright and stagger toward Tessa. “Tessa, we have to move. We can’t stay here.” My voice is shaky, barely audible over the relentless pounding in my ears.

She looks up, her eyes brimming with terror. “I can’t. I can’t move. He’ll find us. He’ll kill us.” Her voice is a broken whisper, each word a struggle.

“Jonathan!” I scream over my shoulder. I need his help. I need him to get Tessa. My heart races as I sprint after him. I just need to talk to him, reason with him. We need to stay together. Alone, Lyle can pick us off; together, we can fight him. “Please! We need to stay—” I call out.

Jonathan disappears around a corner, and I follow, stumbling into another part of the escape room. The walls are covered in tattered, yellowed wallpaper, peeling away to reveal rotting wood beneath. Children's toys are scattered across the floor—dolls with cracked porcelain faces and missing eyes, their bodies twisted in unnatural positions. A mobile hangs from the ceiling, its rusty chains creaking with every sway. Instead of colorful figures, severed doll heads hang from the strings, spinning slowly, as if caught in a nonexistent breeze.

A music box begins to play, its eerie, off-key lullaby filling the room.

“Don’t come near me,” Jonathan growls.

“Please just help me get Tessa,” I plead.

“Fuck you,” he spits. “I don’t owe you anything.”

"Owe me anything?" I snap, anger bubbling up through my fear. "I know about the bet, Jonathan. I know that’s why you slept with me. So yeah, you owe me."

“Just shut up,” Jonathan snaps, not even glancing back at me. His hands run along the peeling wallpaper, clawing at the cracks, desperate to find a hidden door or a way out.

“Yeah, what was the word? Cherry?” I scream, my voice trembling but defiant. “That was a long-term bet though, right? It lasted over eight months. Eight months, Jonathan!”

Jonathan spins around, his face twisted with rage. “Shut up!” he roars, his eyes wild. He crosses the room in two quick strides and shoves me hard, sending me sprawling backward. I lose my balance and crash to the floor, my head slamming down. Pain explodes behind my eyes. “It should have been you, not Marissa. You’re the one who should be dead!”

The room tilts, the edges of my vision blurring with black spots. As my head throbs, I swear I see a shadowy figure—a woman in a flowing gown, her presence cold and haunting. Liliana. Her whisper is like a breath against my ear, “Shhhh…” before everything goes dark.

Pitch fucking black.