25. Tess
TESS
A cool breeze hit the back of my exposed neck as the darkness cloaked Feverpoint. Standing outside the Canopy Eatery, I tried to stretch out my limbs a little bit.
The overgrown exterior of the building was a stark contrast to the highly designed and deep cleaned apartment that hid overhead. Weeds poked from the cracks in the cobblestone pathway, vines crawling up the faded colors of the building's facade.
I was alone, waiting for my three hunters to appear.
It felt silly to be scared, standing at the center of Jungle Jolt. When I was a kid, it would have been so fun to be here, to play in the park and run around. But now, I feared what lurked in the shadows.
In my chest, my heart raced.
I need to calm down.
I pulled air through my nose, exhaling it from my mouth — an old breathing technique I’d learned from my social worker. One of the few helpful things she’d given me.
But just as I felt my nervous system regulating, I turned my head and jumped. “Jesus.”
Standing at the end of a path, three mask clowns watched me.
As they walked, my eyes caught on the weapons in their hands. If they weren’t going to hurt me, why did they carry them?
Blade spun the twin axes in her hands as she approached me — her usual hungry look obscured by the blood-splattered mask. But the dark circles around the eyes and mouth just drew attention to the green eyes underneath.
She didn’t bother wearing a shirt, her small perky tits and washboard abs exposed to me. The bars through her nipples kept them hard.
My body remembered what she’d done to me the last hunt, the way she’d taken me. A part of me feared my body would betray me, picking an obvious spot just so I could see what else she might have in store.
But I shook it off, I needed to focus.
Then there was Nash, who stopped in front of me. Her massive mallet rested on her shoulders, the porcelain mask with its card suits making more sense to me now. “Ready, Sweet Lamb?”
Through her ripped jeans, I could see the Three of Swords brand on her knee. The exact same size as Blade’s.
And then there was Cyrus. Her machete, handle gripped by one hand, rested in her palm. The blade teased the first layer of her skin, just a light pressure away from tearing into the flesh.
Her mask was the only one that still sent a wave of fear through my body. The stitches over her eyes and mouth made my heart stop. She was wordless, completely devoid of the rage I’d gotten used to seeing on her face.
I’d gotten used to reading them. Using their chiseled jaws and high cheekbones to determine how I could get what I needed.
But now, they were a monolith, united in their desire to hunt me.
I’d almost forgotten that they were killer clowns, and that was why I was staying in their stunning modern apartment.
Memories of how they’d murdered my assailants that first night came rushing back. I’d tried to forget how brutal they’d been. How violent.
Now, my body remembered. The same way it remembered Blade’s sweat against my body, her strap inside me. Feverish.
All I could do was hope getting to know them, learning more about what they wanted from this night would give me some sort of advantage.
But there were no real advantages here. I was on their turf. This was their game, and I was just a pawn. Convincing myself otherwise was foolish. And I knew better.
Even still, as they walked closer to me, anxiety took over. The thought of running through this park just brought back memories of the men who’d chased me in here to begin with. There was no denying what they were going to do to me if the Freaks hadn’t found me.
I still don’t know what they’ll do if they find me now.
My stomach flipped, a wave of nausea rushing through me.
Blade moved past me, toward an electrical box. Flipping open the thin metal door, Blade flicked a switch inside. The eerie, crackling music blaring out over the worn down, tinny speakers.
The distorted sounds filled every corner of the park.
Looking into the darkness, I was realizing what I’d gotten myself into. Again.
Knowing what was going to happen didn’t calm the storm of fear that swelled in my body as I faced down the shadows that stretched to the abandoned edges of Feverpoint.
Creeping up behind me, Cyrus’s voice was a deep, haunting rumble. “Tick, tock, Ragdoll.”