Page 50 of Fed By Fear

Now, I watch. A hand bursts from the board. Long, pale fingers cover mine where they’re stuck to the planchette. My eyes go so wide they look as if my lids will split open. The top of a head pushes upward, followed by a dripping, tangled mass of long, black hair.

Another arm breaks free and grabs my shoulder. Tears and snot pour down my face. My mouth is moving. What was I saying in those terrifying moments? The wind is too loud for me to hear.

The body continues to rise, revealing a bony torso. The hands move higher, gripping the sides of my face. My younger self looks absolutely petrified. The hair of the thing holding onto me hangs in front of it, obscuring its face. Without warning, it shoves the fingers of its right hand into my mouth, forcing my jaw open wide. My body finally awakens and starts to fight back. The thing never relents. The second hand edges into my already-gaping mouth, pushing it to a width that twists my youthful features into something unrecognizable.

Slowly, as I convulse and writhe and cry, the thing sinks inside of me. First the arms, then the head. My face is completely torn open by the time the torso disappears. Hips and legs slither down my throat, until no trace is left of the thing from the board.

My younger body crumples to the floor. A blue light envelops my motionless form. Small soft beams spill out of my mangled face, encircling it. The thing is knitting me back together.

Shifting and cracking. Skin slips on. My face is back in one piece again.

The blue light fades.

A scream rips out of my younger self, so feral and anguished that my present self screams as well. Younger me sits up, clamoring to her feet. I want to run to her, comfort her after that fucked-up experience.

She grabs the magically mended board and sprints into the night. My footsteps are silent as I race after her. She takes off into the forest, away from the camp.

Why didn’t I run for help? Where am I going?

I break into a clearing. The moon is bright against the still surface of the lake. Its reflection shatters as my younger self, wracked with sobs, throws the board into the water.

A shriek that raises goosebumps along my arms tears from her throat. She dives in.

Too much time passes without any sign of me.

No bubbles.

Animal sounds return. A shooting star passes overhead.

Two ripples signal something is happening. A blue light shimmers beneath the surface. I would have once believed something so unusual must be magical, that it belonged to a mermaid or siren of some sort. I realize now that magic and monsters are not the same thing. An arm shootsout, fingernails digging into the soft dirt of the bank. My younger self’s other hand clutches the board. My blue-skinned body looks foreign as twisted arms drag me onto land.

I drop onto my back, spitting up water and returning to my usual skin tone.

Voices reach me from beyond the woods. Flashlights wave through the dense trees.

My body shudders and then convulses. I’m still seizing when the first camp counselor reaches me.

The sight of my thrashing body is the last thing I see before I’m sucked into the darkness and spit back out of the door.

Black Bear Cabin slams in my face.

What the fuck was that thing? It tore me open. It crawled inside me. The memory of the blood gushing out as it brutalized my face brings tears to my eyes. The sound of my jaw cracking as it wrenched it wide will stay with me forever. Touching my own face reassures me that I’m still in one piece.

No wonder I blocked out that memory. An experience so horrific I couldn’t bear to relive it. I was so young.

Something slinks beneath my skin. I’m hyperaware of the sense that someone else was watching that memory. From inside me. Did that thing stay in my body all these years? What has it been doing all this time?

There are new doors now. Ones that were most definitely not here when I went inside. They’re numbered from one to thirty-four.

Dread drains into my limbs.“What’s behind the other doors?”

“The truth,”Madness answers.

“What if I don’t want to know?”

“It’s not your choice.”

Door number one swings open. I’m sucked inside even more abruptly than the first. The area is familiar. It’s a walking trail next to the neighborhood playground. A group of teens are passing around a notebook and a bottle of beer. There are no lights on in any of the surrounding houses. It must be late. The fact that half of the group is wearing pajamas further confirms it. They’ve snuck out to have some fun.