Chapter 30
OLLY
Isurface wrong, not fully awake, but also not asleep.
Stuck somewhere in the sickening space between.
My mind is dragging me backward, back to that room, that night, to Cheyanne and the terror on her face, and to Professor Rawdon, whose hands felt like clamps digging into my shoulders as he used me like I was nothing, just holes for him to take his pleasure in, and I was unable to fight him off.
Except his face kept tearing open, splitting, reshaping into Cross's jawline…
then Damon's unhinged grin… and finally River's green eyes stared down at me with something I don't understand, something hungry but also filled with sorrow.
I want to scream, but my breath won't work.
My throat is thick, stuffed with frightening silence.
I can feel hands again, too many hands, dragging me somewhere.
Somewhere dark and menacing, a place I'm not sure I’ll ever leave.
Trees seem to greet me instead of walls.
Cold instead of heat, causing me to shiver, and my teeth to chatter.
No… no, that part isn't a memory, that's happening now, my brain screams with urgency. Wake up!
My eyelids snap open, and my vision instantly drowns in darkness, leaving me disoriented.
The world tilts violently, and I gasp, air ripping painfully into my lungs.
I'm lying on my back on something cold, wet, and uneven.
The scent of earth and damp leaves fills my nose.
A forest. I'm in the woods. What the hell am I doing in the woods?
My last memory is of being at the new house, and in my room.
The disorientation is overwhelming, like a thick fog that refuses to lift, leaving me vulnerable and lost.
Water bottle. Drugged.
The words slip quickly through my mind, which feels like it's filled with quicksand.
Then I'm metaphorically free-falling through light, through air, through my own hysteria.
When I hit the ground, it's hard and damp.
The taste of pine, cedar, rotting vegetation, and night air greets my tongue, but the dread is still present and very much alive, and my confused brain doesn't know whether this is real or not.
The terror hasn't loosened its grip, instead, a new torment has taken its place, one that reassures me I won't be able to escape now.
I dart into a sitting position, my frigid body shaking vigorously, and my pulse wild. My breath comes in jagged gasps as I whisper to the dark, "Where the hell am I?" The darkness doesn't respond, and that's when I realize I'm no longer dreaming, and the real nightmare has begun.
The realization hits me like a sledgehammer, shattering any remaining fragments of normalcy.
Thoughts float rapidly through my mind before I can fully grasp them, then they're instantly gone.
My skin pricks with a new terror when I realize I'm naked.
Naked, cold, soaked through with dew, or sweat, or the leftover fog of whatever they gave me.
They. Damon, Cross, and River have done this to me.
No. No, no, this can't be happening, not again.
I wrap my arms tightly around myself, attempting to save some of my diminishing body heat.
My breath stutters and my heart slams against my ribs, too fast, and loud, like it's trying to break its way out of me. It’s a fluttering bird, trapped, and desperately attempting to escape its vicious cage.
My vision pulsates in and out, the trees bending and stretching, like they want to swallow me alive.
Fear clings to me like a second skin, coating every inch of me.
Whatever drug those assholes gave me is still clawing at my thoughts, making everything so much worse and slower.
Every dark shadow is a threat, every sound a footstep heading in my direction.
I'm consumed by a primal fear that twists my insides, and makes every moment a battle for survival.
The panic is so intense, it's like a physical force, squeezing the air out of my lungs, and paralyzing my every move.
Can't stay here, have to get somewhere safe. Move! MOVE NOW!
I push myself up on trembling arms, and my muscles feel like they're wrapped in thick sandbags, heavy and unresponsive.
My head sways, a dull ache pounding behind my eyes, that causes nausea to rise.
I force myself to blink hard, trying to make sense of my surroundings.
Wetness coats my stomach and legs, and when I propel my clumsy fingers to swipe through it and bring them to my nose, the stench of urine invades my senses.
Did I pee myself? What. The. Fuck. Then I think I hear voices, low, male, and way too close for my liking.
Cross. Damon. River. My mind supplies in a panic.
My stomach drops so fast I almost vomit, as I endeavor to scramble to my feet, only to sway and land back down on my knees with force, and I feel my skin instantly break open on something sharp and jagged on the ground.
The sharp pain helps push away some of the remaining fog consuming my senses.
I reach up with trembling fingers to tear at my tangled hair, which is in my face.
I force myself to crawl toward a large oak tree, using its rough, thick bark to help me get to my unsteady feet.
My heart is pounding like a heavy drum inside my chest, forcing me to struggle to breathe.
Oh my god, I'm going to die. They're going to kill me.
"Welcome back, violent little psycho. It's time to play dark dare," Cross's voice breaks through the darkness, calling to me like it has sinister tentacles, that want to wrap around me, and choke the life out of me.
"We know you're awake, unhinged princess. Are you ready to play?" Damon, my mind supplies, and the image of our last encounter in the library springs forward like a movie reel.
Play? What the hell does he mean by ‘play’?
"I'm going to enjoy ripping you apart, unhinged princess.
Are you ready to be our meal? We're fucking starving," the same voice yells from a crop of dark trees, and I get a glimpse of strange glowing lights, blue, pink, and green.
Masks. They're wearing those stupid LED masks like they did that first night.
“Don’t disappoint us, Hellstorm, run fast and quick,” River’s voice yells.
"We'll give you a head start, Olivia, you'd better make use of it, 'cause when we catch you, and we will, we won't be merciful," my stepbrother's voice rings out with authority. “I dark dare you to run, bitch!”
They're hunting me.
The words echo in my mind, each syllable a blow to my sanity.
Everything inside me fractures and reassembles incorrectly.
This isn't a nightmare anymore, but my brain is still struggling with how to separate the two.
I still see Professor Rawdon's shape lurking between the trees, then it blurs back into Damon's silhouette, then into Cross's tall, menacing frame, moving like a predator through shadows.
This isn't real, it can't be. I'm going to wake up now. WAKE UP, PLEASE! I beg my subconscious.
I clutch my arms tightly around myself, trying to hide my bare, chilled skin even though there's nothing to hide behind except the tree trunk scraping my back. My teeth chatter, not only from the cold, but from the kind of fear that sinks deep into your bones and twists. The type that every woman experiences at least once in her life, knowing that some man out there is going to hurt her, for no other reason than they can. For me, it’s not just one, it’s three, and it makes me feel exposed, vulnerable, and utterly alone.
They drugged me.
Kidnapped me.
Stripped me naked, and dragged me out here.
To play a fucking game. Some sick, deranged version of hide-and-seek, where I'm the prey and they're the predators. What the fuck is wrong with these psychos? Who the hell does something like that?
Monsters.
My breathing goes thin and sharp, and every inhale feels like pulling air through a cracked straw, as I struggle to get enough air inside my lungs and not succumb to the anxiety racing through me.
The forest seems to tilt again, and for one terrible second, I think I'm going to pass out, but survival hits me harder than the dizziness.
Run.
Move.
Hide.
I don't know whose voice that is, mine, my instincts, or something feral rising in me, but I instantly obey.
I push myself to my feet, legs unsteady, the cold biting cruelly at my skin, and the wet ground beneath my bare feet.
Cold mud squishes between my toes as I take one step, then another.
Behind me, twigs snap under heavy boots.
Fuck, too close. I press my palm over my mouth to keep from sobbing out loud.
Get it together, Olly. We have to get out of these woods.
I force myself to take another two steps, using the tree trunks as support, to keep me from collapsing back to the ground.
I can hear Cross's voice now, amused, low, as if this is entertainment for him, and the excitement in Damon's responses, and his accelerated breathing.
I can't hear River. He's quieter, more controlled, but nonetheless, I feel him, the way his attention moves, the way he listens for me.
They're splitting up, surrounding, and herding me.
They're not even attempting to disguise their footsteps; they want me to know they’re coming for me.
I need something I can use to fight them off.
I search the forest floor in front of me with desperation, but nothing readily stands out except a few small broken branches.
The nightmare crawls over the real world again, bringing with it a wave of dizziness.
I blink, and the shadows shift. One moment, Professor Rawdon is stumbling after me in that frat house hallway, and pushing me onto that bed, and the next, it's Cross's large form stalking between the trees, shoulders tense with anticipation.
I'm losing the boundary between then and now, the past that scarred me, and the present that terrifies me, between distorted memory and active danger.
One truth cuts through all of it: If they catch me, I don't know what they'll do. I cannot let them catch me.
My breath comes out in a broken sound, part gasp, part whimper, and I brace my hand against a tree trunk, steadying myself.
I won't let anyone else hurt me. I'd rather die.
If I have to go down, I'll go down fighting.
I turn and slip deeper into the forest, cold, terrified, naked, and shaking so hard it hurts.
I begin to run, my wobbly legs steadying as my speed increases.
Running is the only thing keeping me alive now, and hopefully, it's purging the remainder of the drug from my system with my heightened adrenaline.
It's as if I'm somehow watching myself from the outside, and I can't stop my feet from moving forward, the determination to survive driving me.
I set my sights deeper into the woods, only stopping once to snatch up a good-sized branch I can use to defend myself as my only available weapon.
I'm careful with my steps, making sure I stay on the drier parts of the forest floor, to avoid leaving footprints they can track right to me.
Something tells me River is a tracker. If I can make it until sunrise without them finding me, I might just outsmart the monsters who brought me here.
They want to play, let's fucking play.