Chapter 7
We’re sitting at a table, with a tray of untouched nachos between us. It’s all for show because the bright orange “cheese” looks radioactive.
Carnivals are creepy.
With the flashing and disorienting lights and music, scary clowns, and screaming kids jacked up on way too much sugar, it feels as if the macabre come here to thrive.
So it’s rather fitting that Jupiter and I are here, hunting.
Everyone is here, including Smokes.
As tacky as this carnival is, in a small town such as Flat Planes, it’s the most exciting thing to do.
I’ve envisioned this day for years. The day I get my revenge.
Smokes seems to be on a date. He’s standing behind her, guiding her to throw rings over empty milk jugs. It’s as lame as it sounds. But she’s young and unsuspecting of the rapist asshole who smiles and pretends to laugh at her jokes.
That’s what predators do. They blend in, waiting for the perfect moment to strike their unwary prey.
“I think we do it in the house of horrors,” Jupiter says, slurping her cherry cola.
This is why she’s my best friend. “I was thinking the same thing. No one will think otherwise of seeing a bloody decapitated body in a place where gore is the running theme.”
“Exactly. We just need to be careful of surveillance cameras. This isn’t like our usual shitty motel rooms.”
Turning to look at her, she pats her backpack. “I’ve come prepared.”
Adrenaline animates me just as it always does, but this time is different. It’s different because this time, I want to be the one who takes the life, not merely watch.
I need to do this to take back what he stole.
Jupiter has agreed.
We watch as Smokes and his date walk away with a big stuffed teddy. She stands on her tippy-toes and kisses his cheek, elated with her prize.
I want to be sick.
Jupiter reaches across the table and cradles my hand. “Let’s go.”
We stand and ensure to blend into the crowd as we follow Smokes. The crowd is unsuspecting of the brutality about to unfold.
It’s exhilarating that Jupiter and I share a secret that only we’re privy to. It’s Jupiter and me versus the world.
Smokes slides his hand down to his date’s ass and places his hand into her back pocket, like they’re teenagers on their first date.
I don’t know why, but the sight angers me. Perhaps it’s because I was never able to experience such innocence with a boy. The clichéd things are suddenly events I wish to experience because maybe I wouldn’t have grown into the monster I am.
We pass the merry-go-round, a perfect analogy of how I’m feeling within.
The warped music and bright lights have a sense of panic tackling me.
“I don’t think I can do this.”
Jupiter takes hold of my hand. “Yes, you can.”
Instantly, my anxiety is salved by her tranquility.
The yin to my yang.
We approach the house of horrors. To enter, we must walk through the mouth of the devil. His fangs are long and sharp. His tongue acts as the red carpet fit for us deranged freaks.
The strobe lighting and cracks of thunder, with a lingering smoke effect, are meant to enhance the ghoulish vibe.
Mechanical witches, clowns, and skeleton props bop up and down, cackling and daring those to enter and survive the haunted house.
I read over the warnings:
No phones or recording allowed.
Do not touch the props or performers.
It’s not recommended for those with heart conditions or fear of confined spaces to enter.
Those who dare enter will be exposed to periods of darkness, loud noises, theatrical fog, and terrifying, real-life horror scenes.
Sounds like my kind of party.
We purchase our tickets and ensure to enter with a group of teenagers. Smokes is at the front of the line.
While waiting our turn, an actor comes charging toward us, wielding a chainsaw. He wears a hockey mask and denim overalls covered in blood. Everyone screams and jumps back, hiding behind friends.
Jupiter and I stay rooted to the ground, unmoved.
“See you sooooon,” the chainsaw-wielding man croons with a maniacal laugh, before entering through the devil’s mouth.
The red curtain parts, permitting us to enter.
Smokes laughs, wrapping his arm around his date, coaxing her to enter. She recoils, scared.
She should be.
He finally persuades her inside, where a scream sounds a few seconds later.
Let the show begin.
The door attendants wait a minute or so before parting the curtain, allowing the next few people to enter. They’re doing this so we’re not all crammed in at once.
When it’s our time, Jupiter interlaces her fingers through mine, an excited smile lighting up her angelic face. The moment we enter, it’s pitch black.
Our eyes don’t have time to adjust to the darkness before someone jumps out in front of us, waving an axe.
Jupiter and I remain impassive to it all.
The axe-wielding maniac disappears into the darkness.
The strobe lighting and the infamous, loud Dracula cackle are disorienting. But I slip on the black wig Jupiter hands me. We continue our walk-through, confronted by a maze of mirrors next.
There are hundreds of me, and I don’t fail to see the irony in that illusion. It confuses my brain, and I soon begin to question where my true reflection lies.
“Focus,” Jupiter whispers into my ear.
Her voice calms me, and I find my center.
Faces of strangers flash in the mirrors. They’re not the faces I want to see, however.
Panic hits me.
What if I miss my opening with Smokes?
I take Jupiter’s hand and lead the way through the mirror maze. I go with my gut and navigate my way out. We turn the corner, and it’s an alleyway of the macabre, a street pathway lined with clowns.
Some are statues, and others are painted on the walls. The ground is a spinning top, and soon we’re thrown off-balance and slant to the left, using the wall to guide us along the red-and-white path.
The strobe effect gets faster, and the laughter of ten clowns morphs into one.
Suddenly, a clown jumps out in front of us.
He’s laughing manically, honking his red nose.
We have to cross a swinging bridge to get to the doorway.
Jupiter and I focus on nothing but that door because we’re running out of time. We push past it and enter an enchanted forest filled with colorful fairies and water sprites. I wonder what’s so scary about this because the music and lighting are calm and soothing.
That soon turns when lightning and thunder strike, and we’re covered in rain courtesy of the sprinklers above. A woman dressed as a fairy offers us umbrellas that light up under the fluorescent lights.
My heart creeps into my throat because I wonder how many rooms we have to walk through before the end.
We rush through the forest when monsters come charging for us, bypassing the patrons who stay for the show.
The monsters were hiding in the trees. I have an overwhelming urge to punch them in the face, but I refrain from making a scene.
The next room is a haunted house with doorways extending from the dark hallway. Skeletons and ghosts dance in the corridor. A large mirror is ahead like something out of Snow White.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall…” the voice-over says.
But everything fades into the background because in the mirror, I see Smokes.
Jupiter sees him too.
We subtly turn over our shoulders to see him emerge from one of the rooms, his date trailing, wiping her lips.
I cringe.
No guessing what they were doing behind door number three.
We are the only ones in the main room for now. This is the small window I needed.
Without hesitation, we charge for Smokes and his date. They don’t see us because the lights suddenly go off, leaving us in utter darkness. The glow-in-the-dark ghosts on the wall are the only things illuminating the room.
I grab Smokes by the throat.
Jupiter does the same to his date.
They don’t fight us off because they think it’s part of the performance, and we were warned before entering not to touch the performers.
This really is too easy.
We shove them into the room they emerged from moments ago. Jupiter scans the room for surveillance and finds a small camera in the corner. She jumps onto the table and throws a sweater over it.
Hopefully, we will be long gone by the time the attendants notice.
“What’s going on?” Smokes’s date asks, a panic in her voice.
The dark room is lit only by the glow-in-the-dark paint on the walls. The letters, which mimic being written in blood, spell: REDRUM.
Seems appropriate.
“Here’s Johnny!” mocks Jupiter.
“Who’s Johnny? Arthur, I’m scared and want to go.”
“It’s okay, babe. It’s just part of the show. It’s from the movie The Shining.”
His voice feels like a thousand knives scoring my flesh, peeling it away from my body until I am nothing left but bones.
“Get on your knees.” I use the same words he said to me when I was helpless and scared.
The strobe lighting speeds up, shaping us into a hundred demonic shards.
Smokes chuckles and plays along, dropping to his knees. The sight is one I’ll never forget.
Jupiter stands guard over Smokes’s date, who simply watches on, oblivious to what she’s about to witness.
“Any sins you wish to repent?” I ask Smokes as I retrieve the backpack from Jupiter.
It’s heavy with freedom.
“Oh, honey, how long have you got?” he quips, as if proud.
“Tell me the worst thing you’ve ever done then.”
I stand in front of him, grabbing what I need from the backpack.
He peers up at me, and although it’s dark with merely flickers of light, I can see him narrow his eyes. He soon realizes this isn’t part of the show.
He goes to stand, but I lunge for the knife and withdraw it, pressing the tip to his throat.
He raises his hands in surrender. “Very funny. I’m totally scared. Now let me go.”
“Not a nice feeling, is it?” I question, ignoring his request. “Being held against your will.”
“Arthur—”
“Not a nice feeling being forced to your knees and held down, is it, Arthur?”
“What the fuck?”
Smokes tries to stand once again, but I nick his skin with the blade to ensure he knows I’m the one in control this time.
“You bitch,” he cries, placing two fingers over the wound, blood coating him.
“Enough playing. Keep her still.” I drop my voice, attempting to mimic his and recite the same words he said to me.
“Fuck this.” When Smokes attempts to stand once again, I retrieve the Taser and zap him.
He drops to the ground, whining.
What a pussy. It wasn’t even turned up high.
He now lies on his stomach, winded and disoriented.
“How does it feel, you filthy piece of shit!” I cry, shoving my shoe into the small of his back, pinning him down just as those three boys did to me.
The smell of vomit and the taste of my tears leave me gasping. I need to swim to the surface to find my breath.
“You don’t remember me, Arthur Singleton?” I mock, yanking down his pants so it’s now his ass exposed to the sky. “I guess that’s because it wasn’t my face you were concerned with.”
“You’re fucking crazy! I don’t know you.”
“Well, I know you. I know you and your two friends who shoved a pillowcase over my head and took turns raping me. I was a virgin, you fucking pig!”
Before he can speak, I ram the knife straight into his asshole.
A stunned gasp escapes him.
Smokes’s date rushes over, but I grab her by the arm and press my nose to hers. “Consider yourself lucky he didn’t do the same thing to you. Remember that, and if you still want to go to the police, then go ahead.”
She opens her mouth, but I punch her in the face, and she drops to the floor unconscious.
Smokes is crawling as best he can on his stomach toward the door, the knife sticking out of his rectum.
What a sight.
I gag on the intake of air, which gets lodged in my throat. I try to breathe, but rather die as he commences moving, tearing at my sensitive flesh.
The pillowcase is lodged down my throat as I’m nearly hyperventilating. I can’t control my breathing.
My heart rate.
I am helpless to it all.
It hurts.
It burns.
He tears through raw tissue, and I feel fluid running down my inner thighs.
“Ewww! She fucking pissed herself!”
The vivid memory hits me, animating me to finish this once and for all.
“Who were the other two boys you were with?”
He begins to cry.
“I said who!” I scream, stomping on his hand, breaking it.
“Freddy and J-Jack.” I tip my face to the heavens in victory.
His confession alone won’t free me. Only one thing can.
“Who did I run over?”
“Freddy.”
“Was he the one who raped me too?”
When Smokes hesitates, I press my foot onto the handle of the blade. “No!” he cries, spittle running down his chin.
So Freddy was Whiskey, which means Jack was Lisp.
“Why?” I ask as clichéd as it is. But I need to know. “What did I ever do to you?”
“Nothing! We only did what Legs asked!”
“Who’s Legs?” I ask, as this was the only name dropped that night.
“I can’t tell you. If the family ever found out—”
His words are slurred as he’s on the cusp of passing out.
“Tell me, and I’ll let you live.”
“We’re running out of time. Finish it!” orders Jupiter.
“Not until I find out who they are! Tell me!”
Smokes begins to sob, his body shuddering uncontrollably. “It was a welcoming home present for Jack. He came back from boot camp and wanted to pop his cherry.”
Bile rises to refer to what was done to me so crudely.
“Who is Legs?” I ask one more time, watching in disgust as Smokes continues to crawl toward the exit.
But there is no escape for him, just as there wasn’t for me.
“Brother,” he whispers, before an alarm blares.
“Please make your way to the nearest exit in an orderly fashion,” the man says over the PA.
My time is over.
Dropping to one knee, I yank out the knife from Smokes’s ass. Snaring his hair between my fingers, I arch his head back and slice the blade across his throat. Blood coats my face and chest.
I relish the feel of the warm liquid as I drain the life from Arthur Singleton.
I never break eye contact with him and watch as he takes his last breath.
His head thuds to the ground as I let him go.
I stand over the corpse and commit to memory this sight, which is one I’ll never forget.
“We have to go!” screams Jupiter, yanking my arm and dragging me from the room.
We join the panicked masses as they rush toward the exit, blending in. No one looks twice at my bloody appearance because we’re in a house of horrors after all. The emergency was apparently because a girl fainted. If only they knew what they’re about to find.
Jupiter and I disappear into the night, my hands covered in blood.
But my soul…my soul is finally clean.