6. Cash

I instantly realizeI’ve made a huge fucking mistake. I wasn’t paying attention when I ran from him; I just knew I needed to get away. The shit he’s capable of making me feel…it’s dangerous. And that tattoo around his neck? I swear that fucker moved as he stalked around me. What in the hell is he?

But as I make my way inside this building, I’m blinded by the flashing neon lights that bounce around the mirrors. As I look for a place to run, I’m confronted with a hundred different angles of myself. There’s a smoke machine somewhere that floods the floor, making it impossible to see anything below my knees.

This place is a fucking death trap, and I’ve walked in willingly.

I can’t hesitate, so I run in, knowing getting out of here is my only fucking chance to get away from him. All I can do is hope that he gets lost and I can find my friends so that we can leave this place.

My arms are outstretched as I feel my way through the maze, trying not to face-plant into a mirror or trip and fall, but I can’t be slow. I know he’s going to follow me in here, and even though I want him to struggle to make it through this fucking maze, he works here. Hell, he probably helped set it up.

There’s creepy music playing, and I can barely hear it over my panicked breaths, but it does nothing to settle my nerves. It’s tinny and sounds like it’s coming from a haunted music box. How could anyone ever think this was a fun carnival attraction? It’s something straight out of a fucking horror movie.

“Want to play a game of hide-and-seek, Johnny?” His voice surrounds me from all angles, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from.

“Fuck,” I whisper to myself, continuing to push myself through the maze. I come face-to-face with my reflection at a dead end and feel my throat constrict. His maniacal laughter fills the space.

“Try again!” he sings into the void.

I feel like a wild animal backed into a corner, and it makes me wild with determination to get the fuck out.

“Fuck off, Rune!” I shout into the air, taking off back down the way I came. When I make it back to the fork, I steer left. My eyes are almost fully accustomed to the strange mixture of darkness and glow of the neon. Every time I catch my own reflection, I see my eyes wide and wild, and I look absolutely terrified.

“I’d rather fuck you, sweetness.” His voice has taken on a whole new tone, and as I make another turn, I swear I see the white flash of his hair reflected in the mirrors. When I look around though, I don’t see him.

I feel him in the maze with me. I can feel him staring at me, watching me fail as I take wrong turn after wrong turn. His anticipation leaks into me like a dripping faucet, slowly filling me up until I’m mad with it. It feels like the maze stretches on forever, constantly changing and morphing, growing beyond the walls that contain it.

“Johnny,” he sings, elongating his little nickname for me until I think there won’t be an end. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and goose bumps break out across every inch of my skin. I can barely catch my breath, and my chest feels heavy and tight.

“My precious boy,” he says, his voice an octave lower than his playful tone. It skirts across my flesh like velvet, planting a seed of doubt in my brain.

Do I really want to escape him?

“Johnny!” I hear him whisper like he’s right behind me. I whip my body around. He’s not there. I run down another aisle, turn left, then right, then right again. I don’t know what’s real anymore. The panic and fear have my vision blurry. I shut my eyes, trying to get my vision to focus, but the whole world tilts on its axis, and I stumble into my own reflection.

I glance to the left, and he’s there.

When my head turns fully, he’s gone.

He’s playing with his fucking food.

I growl and push off the mirror, taking off through the maze again, determined to get the fuck out of this place. I take turn after turn, never hitting a dead end no matter how far I run. I’m out of breath, my chest is on fire, and the mirrors keep stretching and warping around me.

I stop in my tracks and scream.

“Fine!” I shout at all my reflections. “You win!”

It goes silent. The music stops, and all I can hear are my own ragged breaths. There’s sweat dripping down my body, soaking my shirt and making it cling uncomfortably to my skin. I try to control it, listening to the silence for any sign that he’s here, that I didn’t make it all up in my head.

My body is frozen—it can’t decide if it’s safe to move or if it should prepare for a fight. My feet are planted to the floor with frozen muscles. I take a few deep breaths and try to look at all of my reflections out of the corners of my eyes, looking for any signs of movement or flashes of white. I don’t see anything, and my heart rate slows.

I flex my fingers and toes, trying to loosen the tension and work up the nerve to start walking again. I can’t stand here forever. I have to get out of here and get to my friends. I need to get home. I need to fucking move.

I turn around and come face-to-face with him. My heart picks back up, trying to force its way out of my throat. He looks at ease, his hands clasped behind his back, a grin on his skull-painted face, and his white hair falling across his eyes in a way that makes me want to reach out and push it out of his face.

He tilts his head, and I take a slow step backward. His eyes fall to my feet, watching me step away from him. When his eyes meet mine again, his grin grows into a wide smile, displaying his sharp white teeth.

“Gotcha.”