2. Tess
TESS
Fucking animals.
As the moon rose higher, the decorum of this party slipped farther and farther down the drain. Not that there was much to begin with.
Crossing my arms, I wandered by the bonfire that roared at the center of the clearing.
Along with the random sticks and logs they’d chucked in, the classy party-goers were using the fire as their personal burn pit.
Stacks of cardboard and old clothes curled into blackened scraps as they lit up inside.
I rolled my eyes, knowing that some horrible toxin was probably being released into the atmosphere because these nitwits were too plastered to give a fuck.
Not that they would care if they were sober.
Most of them probably thought climate change was a hoax made up to take their diesel trucks away.
I was the only sober person at this party. And I needed to be. If I had any hope of finding a place to sleep tonight, I needed to be sharp. Sharp enough to tell the losers from the monsters. Maybe if I was diligent, I might find a guy who wouldn’t try anything.
Scanning the crowd, my shoulders dropped. The prospects were slim. I’d been surfing couches for nearly five years now, and I’d worn through most of my options. Sometimes, when my coworkers were feeling generous, they’d let me sleep on their sofas.
But right now, I was out of comfortable options.
At the edge of the party, a group of guys played beer pong and flip cup. None of them seemed particularly good at it, but losing was an excuse to chug back their Natty Lights.
Among them, I spotted the group of assholes from earlier. From the volume of their cheering, I’d bet they’d be at this for a while longer.
Which meant now was as good a time as any to sneak in a piss.
Making sure no one was watching me, I headed to the opposite edge of the clearing. I was careful to look over my shoulder as I stepped out of the fire’s light and into the shadowy forest. The flames flickered a gentle, fading light across the trees, but the deeper I went, the darker the woods grew.
I walked with my arms crossed, peering carefully around me. A movement in the distance made me jump: a rustle of brush, a long shadow.
But when nothing happened, I sighed.
It’s nothing. Shadows from the bonfire. Just go piss.
I walked until it was quiet. Once the noise of the party gave way to crickets and owls, I leaned against a tree and reached for the button on my distressed jean shorts. Pulling them down to my knees, I squatted against the rough bark.
Deep breath.
With much coaxing, the piss against the old pine needles and leaves that covered the forest floor. I shifted my foot, trying to keep it from hitting my shoes, when—
Snap.
My head whipped up. I grabbed at the waistband of my daisy dukes and pulled them up as I searched for the source of the sound.
Before I could manage the button, five men appeared from the darkness. As they got closer, I started to recognize their puffy, beer-swollen faces. The assholes from earlier with the loud, stupid opinions. The ones who knew where I worked.
Fuck.
The one in the flannel shirt sneered and stepped closer. “Look who we have here, boys. Little Miss Feminist, all by herself in the words.”
One of the other guys laughed. “You think she can girlboss herself out of this one?”
Everywhere I looked, there was a man standing in my way. No way out.
I fucking knew I shouldn’t have said shit. Should’ve kept my mouth shut.
My mom had always warned me about it, how much trouble my words were going to get me in.
Should’ve listened.
Too late now. I had no choice but to try and talk my way out of it. “Didn’t your mamas teach you how to respect a woman?”
One of the bastards in the back licked his thin lips, words slurred together. “She’d make a good wife if we could tame her.”
The one in denim stepped forward. Inches from my face, he rubbed his rough, calloused hand over my cheek. “She’d look pretty hot chained up in my basement. Might break her then.”
I could’ve vomited at the feeling of his crusty skin. All of them were shit-faced, eyes dilated and bodies slow.
But there was no denying the rush of fear that coursed through my veins. Sure, they were drunk and high on god knows what, but they were bigger than me. They were losers, total dirtbags. And still dangerous.
“Maybe we should fuck the slut until she admits she likes it.” The guy in the white shirt let a sick smile creep over his face.
It was an oxymoron. I didn’t believe in slut shaming in the first place, but by their logic, if I was such a “slut,” submitting wouldn’t have been that difficult.
They didn’t care about oxymorons, though. They could hardly pronounce the word.
What they cared about was getting their dicks wet. And as if his words had been an invitation, all of the men started to fumble toward their zippers. A disturbing hunger took over their faces as they watched me shrink against the tree.
The one in the wife beater put his hands on my shoulders, pushing my back into the peeling bark of the oak tree. But the flames flickering behind them illuminated just enough of an escape path to make a run for it.
As he looked down, grabbing at his dick and trying to pull it out with his whiskey fingers, I saw my chance. In a swift move, I lifted my knee to his nutsack.
He doubled over, yelping in pain as I slipped out of his grasp and ran deeper into the woods.
Run. Just keep running.
I pushed off the heels of my chucks, forcing my body forward.
Behind me, Wife Beater’s voice bounced off the trees as he yelled after me. “Get that fucking bitch! Make her pay!”
I heard their heavy feet behind me, pounding against the forest floor as they tried to catch up. But they were unsteady, swaying with every step.
I was a dancer, though. I was in better shape than these fucking losers.
Hustling, I weaved between the trees, using my size to my advantage, slipping through gaps in the trees that were too narrow for them. My head was on a swivel, looking for a way out of the dense woods.
As I peered over my shoulder, my foot lost traction. Next thing I knew, it was crumpling underneath my body, and sending me hurtling toward the ground. As I hit the ground, something crunched in my pocket.
“Fuck!” I yelped as quietly as I could.
There goes my phone.
Pressing off the cool forest floor, I limped for a few strides. A bruise was forming on my hip, just above my shorts pocket.
But after a few steps, the aching subsided enough. I broke back out into a full sprint.
Banking left, I tried to vary my path enough to lose them. I’d already put some distance between us when I saw a chain link fence.
It wasn’t worth slowing down. I ran straight into it, letting the metal stop my momentum for me. The fence clinked under my weight, but it didn’t budge.
Still, it was old and worn out. There had to be a hole somewhere.
Behind me, the footsteps grew louder. My time grew shorter.
And then I found it: a slit in the fence. A string of links sliced by a bolt cutter.
Looking up, I realized where I was. Feverpoint. The old Valemont amusement park.
Beyond the fence, everything was overgrown and rusty. It’d been abandoned for at least a decade now. The shadowy silhouettes of faded roller coasters towered over the whole place like forgotten gods.
There were rumors… about what happened in this place. Stories of ghosts and clowns that haunted its darkest corners. Tales of women going missing and children turning up confused and bloody.
But what choice did I have? It was the rumors in the park or the very real dickheads barreling toward me.
There’s no alternative.
Grabbing the slit in the fence, I peeled it back and slipped inside.
Whatever was beyond the fence couldn’t be worse than what was closing in.
At least, that’s all I could hope.