Page 17 of House of Horrors

And another.

I sway like a newborn foal, unsteady on my limbs.

A gush of air ripples against my arm and I whimper, clapping my hands over my eyes. If I can’t see anything, I’ll be protected from what’s hiding in the shadows.

Barely holding back tears, I stumble forward, my foot striking something hard enough for the impact to jolt through me. With a gasp I allow my hands to drop beside me. I swing my leg back to double check that the house isn’t deceiving me.

Thud. My boot connects with what I hope is a wall. If there’s a wall, there might be a door nearby.

Hope sparks within me. Maybe I’m at the end of the hallway. But before I can celebrate, a horrible, grinding screech echoes through the space, almost as if someone is dragging metal against metal. My neck curls involuntarily at the noise and I shiver.

“Find the exit.” The voice booms around me. “Find the exit…find the exit.” My mouth emits blubbering sounds against my conscious will, madness taking over.

I fling my hands further out, groping frantically in the dark, and scream, touching something wet. Something warm. And gooey. I try not to think about what I’m touching because none of the options are good. Sourness rolls through my stomach. “Oh my God.” I keep moving, trying to find the escape. “Come on, where’s the door?” The screeching reverberates around me, smothering every coherent thought. As soon as my fingers wrap around a knob, I gasp and twist, relieved when light filters through. I throw myself forward and out of that hellhole.

And inevitably into the next.

Nine

Daisy

“Finally. I thought you had died.” Jason sneers. Relief hits me so hard my knees nearly give out, my shaking body pressed against the door. I’m alive. I’m okay. “You’re pathetic,” Jason mutters.

“Give me a second.” I breathe deeply, my heart sounding like thundering hooves in my chest. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” I only need a moment before I spring up and plaster on a fake, practiced smile. I need to get back to my original plan—make Jason fall in love with me. “Wow, that was so much fun.”

Jason snorts, clearly amused. “That’s almost as funny as Debbie saying she loves Jerry.”

I scowl and glance over at my stepbrother, who looks unfazed, as though the hallway was just a walk in the park. We face off in a silent confrontation, and I come to the realization that Jason waited for me. He could have left as soon as he escaped, but he didn’t. I quickly duck my head to hide my grin while I consider what this means. He likes me.

When I’ve collected myself, I let my gaze sweep over Jason. Tattoos peek out from his jacket. A skull and thorns, bold against his skin. They’re hypnotic, gently moving in swirling patterns as if projected. Just looking at him, grounding myself in something beautiful, lets my frantic heart ease from frenzy to something sweeter, slower.

Fuck. He’s so hot.

My eyes trail down, taking him in. I wish I had found a way to take Jason to a nudist beach instead of a silly haunted house. I could be basking in the sun and admiring the newest landmark—his cock. That would have been so much nicer.

“Are you done looking at me like I’m meat?” Jason drawls, and I smile brightly in response. Our conversation is already perking me up.

“Yes, in fact⁠—”

A high-pitched scream erupts from somewhere behind us, and my eyes widen. A girl rushes into the room, bright neon light trailing after her.

“I’m just trying to find the exit,” she cries.

Her voice is tangible, each word heavy with despair that clings to me like a coat. I stare at her face, the saltiness of her tears lingering on my tongue, a taste that feels real in my altered state. I can’t help wanting more of it, as if the flavor itself is part of the labyrinthine illusions that surround us.

“I hate this damn house,” she continues. The words swirl around in my mind, adding to the surreal vortex of my senses.

I pull my gaze from her and take in the room. It’s a seemingly normal bedroom with a double bed and end tables. Even with knowing something is hiding, that this could be the biggest trap in the haunted house, the familiarity relaxes me. Soft waves of air nudge my body, and I sway as if being rocked by gentle tides. The sensation is trippy, and my skin buzzes. Reality is slipping sideways.

My eyes fixate on the patterns slowly expanding across the walls. The shapes morph into a mandala, its lines shifting and growing with impossible fluidity. The room is breathing. I’m distantly aware of a loud bang and the girl’s shout of relief, but the vivid patterns command my attention, making it hard to pull away.

“You gonna look at that wall all day?”

“But it’s so pretty,” I say, particularly drawn to a section of radiant yellow. I can somehow taste it. It’s mango—sweet, citrusy, unreal in my mouth. My fingers reach for the glowing color, drool sliding down my chin in a daze.

Jason grasps my hand and pulls me back from the wall. His steady presence brings me back for a moment, and I meet his eyes, anchored by his gaze even as it sweeps me into another world.

“That’s the acid talking, idiot.”