my body. My teeth start chattering again, the cold becoming nearly unbearable.
The black sack is ripped off my head, and I flinch from the harsh light. It’s dreary outside, but since I haven’t seen daylight in quite a while it has made my eyes sensitive.
Squinting, my gaze immediately jumps to the monstrosity towering before
me.
Rick splays his arm out towards the two-story colonial home, presenting the
house to me as if I’m at a five-star restaurant, and he’s pulling the lid off my tray to reveal the best meal I’ll ever have. I’ve never been anywhere so fancy, but from the videos I’ve seen on the internet, it looks like a bunch of baby portions of foam and sticks wrapped in meat.
So—not appealing.
The house isn’t as rundown as I would have thought, but still not in the best
shape. Vines of moss are running up the cracked white paneling, reminding me a
little of Parsons Manor. Just not as… pretty. It’s discolored with boarded windows, a sagging porch and— is that duct tape?
“Looks… inviting,” I murmur.
Glancing around, I note that we’re out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded
by dense woods. It looks like they just plopped a random house in the middle of
a forest. A dirt driveway trails off through a thicket of trees, and I suspect that’s the only way in or out. Unless I want to take my chances out in the wild.
“Let’s go, it’s fucking freezing,” Rick orders, dragging me after him. Rio walks ahead of us, shooting an indecipherable look over his shoulder before he leads me into the house straight out of Courage the Cowardly Dog. Only double the size.
But I imagine the shit that happens in this house is full of horrors much worse
than that purple dog ever experienced.
Adrenaline and fear swirl in my stomach, and although there is a heavy
weight low in my gut, it's not the warm heady feeling I'm used to. This is dread.
It spikes higher when Rick hauls me through the entryway and pushes me
forward. While the air is stale and musty, it doesn’t resemble a meth lab as I had
expected.
This home looks like it comes straight from the 1800s, with an abundance of
woodwork, outdated wallpaper, and odd nooks and crannies that make zero sense. I’m standing in a massive living room with brown, cracked leather couches, threadbare floral rugs, and crooked paintings on the walls. The TV is shoved into a corner, Tom & Jerry playing on low and a drooping cobweb hanging above it.
Grime is caked into the cracks, and every surface is coated in dust. The deep
brown hardwood floor is wonky and uneven and creaks from the slightest shift
of weight. I imagine if this place was haunted like Parsons Manor, no ghost could walk by undetected.
To the left is a dining area, paraphernalia everywhere. Crushed beer cans, needles, and crack pipes litter the table, along with a circular mirror, a small mound of cocaine on it.
Hesitantly, I walk farther into the house, the pit of dread growing wider and
wider, like a shark’s mouth right before it ravages its prey.
It’s hard to breathe in here. It smells faintly of mildew and the entire house is
wrapped in bad juju like a scratchy wool coat. It’s thick, uncomfortable, and suffocating.
“Welcome to your new home,” Rio declares mockingly. He’s been watching
me take in the house, and even though it’s only been seconds, I’ve long since grown uneasy beneath the weight of his stare.
Before I can open my mouth, three men walk in from a doorway straight
ahead. It seems to lead to the kitchen, based on the glimpse of a refrigerator from
my standpoint. The raucous men were mid-laughter, but the second they noticed
me, they quieted. Their movements are slow as they approach the kitchen table,
more intent on picking me apart than watching where they’re going.
“This the diamond?” one of the men calls out, his teeth so black, it looks like
bugs have infested his mouth.
Rick saunters towards the table and takes a dramatic seat, pride radiating from
his face.
Smiling wide, he says, “You fucking know it is! Max already deposited the check so we can do whatever the fuck we want, boys.”
Their cheers arise, and the look on Rio’s face is near murderous.
“Fucking idiots,” he mutters under his breath. Then louder, he reminds him,
“No, you can’t do whatever you want, stúpido, because you have a big fucking target on your head in the shape of a Z.”
Rick waves a hand, unconcerned. “Don’t worry, Rio. We’ll hide out until the
fucker is dead, and then, we can do whatever we want. This payday is fucking
massive, and not only that—we’ll get a taste of her, too.”
I shrink beneath their lewd gazes. Instinctively, my arms wrap tighter around
myself, but that only elicits a few grunts of amusement.
“Aw, don’t be shy, baby girl. I promise I’ll make you feel good,” one of them
croons, his black hair sticking up in several directions from the copious amount
of grease in it. I swallow, a lump forming in my throat as my gaze fixates on a
dark red puddle on the table I hadn’t noticed before.
I can’t even begin to imagine what that could possibly be from.
“What, princess, we ain’t good enough for you?” Rio asks. I glance at him and note the smirk on his face. But he’s tense, his grin strained.
I don’t even acknowledge him; my eyes trained back on the pool of blood.
Tracking my line of sight, Rio turns to see what I’m staring at. He barks out a
laugh when he sees it.
“Want to place a bet on what it’s from?” My face contorts in revulsion as I shoot a glare at him.
“My bet is that some bitch lost her virginity right there,” Rick chimes in, lighting a cigarette with a grin.
I bristle, and anger rises in my chest. “You’re sick,” I spit, my voice watery
and full of so much hate. Rick only laughs and goes back to the conversation between his friends. I’m watching one of them inject himself with a needle when I feel someone charging in the house behind me. I startle and turn to find another
man, and nearly lose my shit.
There’s a girl slung over his shoulder.
My mouth pops open, and his brown eyes settle on me.