Shadowface

Chapter 10

CHAPTER

TEN

SUMMER

T he week goes by. No texts or photos, just a swirling media presence on campus and a statewide search for Cali, who is still missing. Local authorities are refusing to connect Cali’s disappearance with the photo or Shadowface lore, stating there is no proof the two are connected and the distance between the towns is a driving factor in that decision.

It’s like they don’t want to admit what’s blatantly obvious to me.

The party is tomorrow, and even though no one knows who actually plans it every year, the rumor is it’s at the abandoned Fresh Mart .

Kinsmen is a secluded, quiet place. The woods run for miles and miles, very easy to get lost in. None of this sounds like a good idea.

I didn’t call the police after the dirty threats. We read together, then he tested my understanding of the subject matter.

For the next hour, I could almost imagine he was normal, and we were only talking about class. That he wasn’t pretending to be Shadowface and getting off on the pure fear he instilled in me. That he wasn’t controlling my every move by exploiting the persona of a serial killer.

I couldn’t stop listening to his voice as he talked to me, obsessed with every word and how different he sounded from earlier in the conversation. How deep and composed he was, how certain and confident. I pictured that boy in my kitchen but couldn’t place the two together.

As much as I hated it—the thought of it being him—I can’t deny that I finally read it and forced myself to start my paper, and even submitted it on time. It was nice having someone to work through the material with.

It’s psychology class again, the last of the week. Dani, Misty, and I take our usual spots in the back of the lecture hall. Lincoln is in the front row, ignoring everyone with his usual grace and sophistication. He hasn’t looked at me all week; I might as well be dead to him.

I can sense my nameless monster watching me, though… He’s somewhere in this room, even if I’m not entirely sure it’s Lincoln.

Grant and a few of his friends join us. He’s sat next to me all week. His eyes are on my chest during the entire lecture. I’m leaning into him and smiling, flirting more than usual. Not for Grant’s sake, of course, but for him. I’m sure he’s looking, and I’m desperate for some sort of reaction from Lincoln.

The lights dim and Dr. Garcia clicks to the microphone. At just five feet tall, the woman dominates the room. The hall falls silent, as it always does when she’s on stage.

“Congratulations. You’ve made it to the end of week two,” she says. “I hope you all understand the basic concepts of research. If you don’t, I suggest figuring it out quickly, as you will need to grasp the concept to be successful in this class. Your first reflections have been graded and will be available to view. Unfortunately, some of you failed. So let’s pay attention to instructions.” She waves her hands. “And keep up with your readings.”

My heart stutters. There is no way I failed. I submitted a decent paper. I stayed up so late working on it, and I worked with him on it.

“Students who wish to discuss their grades can meet with Lincoln during his office hours on Monday. You are free to argue about it with him, but I promise, he’s difficult and generally, I agree and trust his assessments. You may be better off focusing on your first paper due in a couple of weeks and your reflection on the burning building example due tonight. Today, we are going to finish our discussion on ethics, and next week we will dive into basic principles of psychobiology, otherwise known as the nature side of the coin, which we will discuss at length over the next couple of weeks.”

Burning building example, as if it wasn’t pure debauchery and evil, as if it didn’t really happen. Like it’s some theory in a textbook.

I spend the next hour feverishly writing everything she says in my notebook. I’m behind on readings, so I don’t join the conversation she facilitates at the end of class. No one leaves once the class ends. Everyone opens their phones, tablets, and computers, and checks their grades, including me.

My heart sinks.

An F. I got a fucking F?

Dani nudges me. “How did you do?”

My eyes shoot up at her, bloodshot, I’m sure, as the room crashes in on me.

Her eyes widen. “That bad?”

I press my lips together. “This must be some sort of mistake.” I steal a glance at Misty, who is watching me as if we are in some sort of unspoken competition. “How did you do?” I ask her.

“I got an A-minus.”

Dani gives me a half smile. “I got an A.”

“This is absolute bullshit,” I mutter, a deep tightness forming in my belly. I’m used to Dani excelling at everything, but the fact that Misty managed to outperform me just infuriates me. Failing would mean losing my scholarship, which is the only reason I’m even able to attend this school. I’m well-aware I lack the smarts to be here on my own, but this isn’t right.

Misty gives me a flat look and twists her hair. “I’m sure you can make it up on the next assignment. How bad did you do?”

My lip curls. “Bad.”

Dani’s eyes sparkle. “Well, I guess you have a good excuse to go talk to Lincoln now,” Dani jokes. “Tell me how he is in person.”

I give Dani a half smile as blood shoots to my face. Misty just stares at me inquisitively, and Grant freezes beside me, clearly listening to our conversation.

Misty’s eyes draw over to Lincoln, and my stomach burns at her looking at him that way. She’s gone to see him nearly every office hour.

I slam my laptop shut and shove it into my bag. “Yeah, I suppose I have to. I’ll meet up with you girls later.” I strut out of the lecture hall without looking back. I guess I’ll spend most of my night studying and prepare myself to face Lincoln on Monday.

I ’m in a mood.

Not a good one, nor a bad one, but definitely a vibe.

Dani came barging into my room around three PM and forced me to stop studying. I peeled myself away from my computer after slaving away on my first real paper most of the day, taking advantage of the fact it’s now the weekend.

We are about to study psychobiology. Basically, it’s the argument that people are the way they are from birth, instead of attributing brain development and personality solely to early life experiences.

Real fascinating stuff, and considering I have a real-life psycho messaging me, I can’t help but reflect on what made him the way he is.

What childhood trauma did you go through, SF, or were you born this way?

The campus was still buzzing all week about the rumors that Shadowface was back. The media is hanging around, interviewing students about what they think is really going on.

“Summer, drink up.” Dani shoves a shot in front of me. I stare at it, my vision already blurred from the two afternoon cocktails we had while listening to music, dancing around our living room, and doing our hair and makeup.

It’s the first time I’ve had a little fun since being here, and I have to admit, it’s nice, amidst my reluctance to have any since my father died.

Now I’m dressed in all black. High-waisted leggings and a tiny black lace top that shows my mid-section. My hair is curled in pretty waves, the blonde a stark contrast to the inky dark fabric.

Yup. Definitely a vibe.

I feel sexy, probably for the first time in a while.

“Everybody cheers.” Dani raises her shot glass in a toast, and I mirror her movement. Swigging down the dark liquid and clinking it on the granite island in front of me, I slide it over to her in triumph.

My triumph only lasts for a second as that dark liquid burns and stays in my stomach for all of a second before rising back into my throat. My eyes water and I force myself to swallow it back down.

The smell. Ugh, the smell. “What the hell was that?”

“Something to set your insides on fire,” Dani jokes.

I wipe my watering eyes as black mascara smudges onto my hand.

Dani frowns as she leans over the counter across from me. “Girl, don’t. You’ll ruin your makeup.” Dani took charge of applying my makeup, using an excessive amount of black eyeliner and eyeshadow—far more than I typically wear. I kind of like it instead of resorting to pink blush and natural makeup like I usually do. Not that anyone will see me under the mask I’m being forced to wear. It gives me a sense of satisfaction knowing if I’m going to get slashed up tonight, I will look damn good doing it.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” I say, grabbing a glass of red wine as Misty slips in beside me. “We have to wear those disgusting potato sacks all night.”

“The slutty makeup is not for the party, silly girl. It’s for whoever we end up coming home with after.” Dani throws me a wink.

The party’s tonight, and my stomach has been laced with butterflies all day at the thought of finally seeing SF.

My limbs grow heavy, and my fingers drift to my thigh as my pussy clenches at that thought. This longing I have for him is cracking away my innocence, piece by piece, and it makes me nauseous.

I grab my red wine and take a sip. If I’m going to this party tonight, I’m not doing it sober.

All three of us are wearing black outfits, so I’m hoping it will make me invisible because I want him to have a hard time finding me. He needs to work for it after what he’s put me through.

Dani shakes her head as the wine simmers on my tongue, and I make an orgasmic face and smile at her.

Probably because I’m drunk…and very horny. The heat of the liquor intensifies everything, and I’ve not experienced a true orgasm in years.

“I don’t know how you drink that stuff. Red wine makes me loopy,” Dani says as she walks to the fridge and grabs a bottle of white and pours her and Misty a glass. It seems she also has a little strut tonight.

Red wine is my drink of choice. I always thought my parents looked so sophisticated when they drank it, my father especially.

The doorbell rings and Misty’s eyes light up. “I’ll get it.” She gracefully slides off the barstool and saunters over to the door while I keep my back straight and face the kitchen.

I hear three male voices, and bile rises in my throat as I get a whiff of the cheap cologne Grant usually wears. He sneaks up behind me, and I nearly choke on the smell as he slides his hands around my midsection.

“Hey, Summer.”

My body convulses.

Dani arches her well-manicured brows as I scowl at her. “I invited Grant and his friends so they can take us to the party. I thought it would be safer showing up with them.”

She has a valid point, so I turn and smile sweetly at him, knowing Misty is watching. I’d rather Misty think I have a crush on Grant, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You look good tonight,” he tells me, and I can’t help but notice Misty’s shoulders slump a bit.

“Thank you,” I respond, straightening my back as his eyes veer down and I really take him in.

He looks cute tonight—dark curls, tanned skin, all-American face. I realize just how big and muscled Grant really is, how perfect he should be for me.

From what I recall of my nameless monster, his body was lean, but he wasn’t a giant. Every time I close my eyes, Lincoln’s body is the one I dream of. So perhaps if I walk in with a football player that will get the attention I need from him.

I gently place my hand on his muscled thigh, finally meeting his gaze. My three-inch heels brush against his legs, playfully tickling him. Despite my slightly blurry vision, his eyes sparkle with excitement from our connection. Deep down, I’m aware I’m toying with danger.

T he six of us cram into Grant’s SUV. Grant opens the door and I slide beside him in the front, while the rest pile in the back. He turns the music up and we drive out of town as the sun fades in the sky. The usual autumn mist swirls in the air as darkness descends.

Electronic music blasts out of the speakers and the girls dance behind me, giggling as we make our way deep into the woods. My stomach swirls and so does my vision, and I regret drinking so much. Grant’s hand finds my thigh in the dark and my face heats, but I let his hand linger there for a moment.

The touch of his skin shoots butterflies into my belly—not SF-level chills, but enough to know that at least I’m normal and react as I should when a cute guy makes contact with me.

Someone who acts like a normal college guy, not a guy who stalks and threatens me.

My head bobs from the alcohol and my hand finds his. He relaxes and squeezes my hand.

I’m a terrible person, and I’m definitely drunk. He’ll want a piece of me tonight, and with how much I’m teasing him, I’m not sure I can stop it. I can tell by the look in his eye he has something planned for me.

I can’t let him, but I can’t push him away, either. My curiosity about SF is tempered by my desire to not die tonight.

A delicate dance.

I’ll have to navigate both guys: one for excitement, and one for protection.

We take a minor road through the woods as moonlight slithers through the canopy above, casting long shadows on the road in front of us. The crisp fall air is calm and still, the trees are motionless giants.

Dark woods, a legendary slasher, a secret cult that kills people. What could possibly go wrong tonight?

We pull up to what looks like an abandoned warehouse in the woods, with black silhouettes and an obscene amount of glow sticks everywhere. It looks as though the entire school is here, even though the police and administration warned everyone not to do this.

My stomach turns, realizing it’s at the old Fresh Mart Dani and I saw last week. Surrounding it are barricades and a broken sign saying: Stay Out. As if my grandmother is screaming at me from the grave.

The place is already bustling with activity.

We park and all step out into the night. Music pulses from the inside the building, everyone lining up to get in.

My skin crawls as someone pushes past me. Whoever it is stops and stares at me, wearing that hideous burlap mask. He tilts his head, and I gasp.

“Hey, fucker, watch out,” Grant threatens, and I look up at him. I grab his hand to stay near him, but only because of the overwhelming amount of Shadowfaces consuming me.

Dani loops her arm with mine, sensing my unease. “It’s fine, don’t worry so much.”

Everyone is wearing a mask, with creepy eyes and gaping holes over their mouths, and I wonder which grocery store the campus must have infiltrated to get their hands on these potato sacks.

Scarecrows… Everyone looks like haunted scarecrows, and I don’t understand the appeal. These aren’t even the sexy masks like Ghostface, or the kind that glow in the dark. This is truly disturbing and has an occult feel.

Dani hands me one. “Come on, Summer. If you can’t beat em, join em.”

With a deep breath, I secure my mask in its rightful position, anticipating some sort of sensation. The rough texture of the burlap against my skin is abrasive and uneasy. His eyes on me—in front of me, behind me. It’s like he’s everywhere. His essence is seeping into my skin.

My heart stammers as a wind cuts through my thin layer of clothes, and Grant, who senses my nervousness, grabs my hand. “Just stay with me, beautiful. You’ll be alright.”

“It’s just fun,” Dani reminds me. I have to do a double take at her. Her eyes are shadowed, and she has a rope tied around her neck, reminding me of the collar Lincoln’s brother had on that girl. Morbidly hot, Dani would say, so it doesn’t surprise me she added that accessory.

My eyes grow wide, and she stares back at me.

Here, everyone is equal. Everyone’s the same. Everyone is him .

A unifying ceremony, Dani had called it, and I wonder just how much research she’s done on the Order.

“It’s like we’ve been reborn,” she says as Misty walks up beside her, looking just as deranged. Dani twirls around in a dance and squeals. “It’s like we can do anything we want and be anyone.” Those words chill me to the core.

Death. He represents death. We shouldn’t be glamorizing this.

This is supposed to be fun, I tell myself as we head toward the Fresh Mart, where the walls are shaking from pounding music inside.

The warehouse is one massive room, with a dark hallway in the corner leading to a few rooms in the back. No bathrooms that I can see, and the lack of air is suffocating. The place is packed, with barely enough room to walk. And the music is so loud it would mute any sounds, should anyone need to scream.

I keep my hands on Dani, but she slips from my grip and Grant takes over.

Dani turns to face me with that creepy mask. “Let’s dance,” she yells over the music.

Grant’s hand moves to my lower back, and I immediately get lost in the room. Sweat, alcohol, and limbs are everywhere.

Everyone is grinding on each other, shrieks of laughter and yelling over the pounding music. It’s not the drinking, partying, or the sex that makes my core vibrate. It’s the masks that make my toes curl and make me want to combust.

I blink a few times as he infiltrates my senses, captivating people’s attention and making them feral.

I jolt when Grant grabs my hand, as if sensing my unease. “It’s alright, Summer.” He leans down so his mouth teases my ear. “Here, take this.”

My stomach curdles.

I fall into him, trying to regain my composure amidst the chaos, and he slips something into my mouth. My eyes widen and I stare up at him. He gives me a comforting nod, and I realize it’s a pill, which I swallow without thinking.

Shit…What was that?

My phone buzzes in my purse, and I pull it out. I squint, realizing that somehow I only have one bar, yet here he is.

SF’s name appears on the screen and a burst of satisfaction blooms inside me. I was wondering when he was going to make his presence known. Despite my intention to ignore his texts, I can’t help but read it.

SF: If he doesn’t take his hands off you, I will break his fingers, one by one.

I spew out a laugh, and Grant tilts his head at me as I freeze and stare down at my phone. The liquor from before blurs my ability to give a shit about him anymore. Let him squirm. Let him threaten me.

Let him fucking watch.

Summer: I’d love to see you try. Come out, come out, wherever you are.

He takes a couple of seconds to respond.

SF: Is that a dare?

I respond the only way I can in my drunken state.

Summer: Fuck you.

SF: I plan to, pretty girl. Real soon.

Good. He’s kept me waiting for two years.

I gently nibble on my lips, a smile forming on my face. This is exactly the version of him I had been hoping for. The side of him that is playful, the one who lovingly calls me his pretty girl. It’s this side of him that never fails to make me squirm.

My mask gets hot, hotter than simmering coals, and my skin heats like molten lava.

I slip my phone into my purse and turn to Dani, who’s dancing with some guy, who has a suspiciously similar build to Xander, looking like she’s about to rail him right on the dance floor.

Even in her drunken state, she’s always been the protector of my things. I nudge her shoulder and raise my purse in her face. She knows what I need without me even having to say it.

She tilts her head, sensing that something is amiss, but grabs my purse and casually slings it over her shoulder, resuming her grinding. I lost my purse that had my credit card and phone in it one night when we were out in Amsterdam. This shouldn’t be a surprise to her, especially since I’m a cheap drunk.

I glance back at Grant, who’s waiting for me, and I stare down at Grant’s poor fingers. I don’t like Grant, and I’m not ready for Grant to lose a limb, but I also don’t appreciate SF’s attempt at sabotaging my date.

Knowing that SF is watching, I step toward Grant and twist my body so my ass is pressed into his center and flip my hair to my side.

Closing my eyes, I sway to the music. I smile because, as tough as SF thinks he is, there is no way he would try anything right now.

There is nothing he can do.

We don’t talk. I grind on Grant the way every girl here is grinding on every guy, giving an added thrust and sexual oomph. I’m not sure how much time goes by, and I seem to get swept up in the music.

Grant’s hands, which are already around my middle, begin to roam to places they shouldn’t, and I can’t move. I can’t say no, I can’t do anything. My body is foreign to me.

I turn to him, but a wave of tingling and nausea washes over me. Whatever he gave me is kicking in, hardcore. I can barely see. The lights are dancing. Masks swirl everywhere and his body is nice. Really nice…

“I need some air,” I tell him and push away before he can protest, disappearing into the crowd before he can follow me.

If I stay near him, he’ll do something, and I can’t let that happen.

The music is so crisp as I float through the crowd, through the sea of masks and limbs and sex. Just a swirl of blurry burlap faces until my head spins and mouth dries up.

I stumble to the side of the room, suddenly regretting my choice of footwear. I lean over and what little I have in my stomach comes boiling into my throat. My heart is racing a million miles an hour.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m so high.

I can’t stand still. My body needs stimulation, it needs to move. Almost speedy, like the pill was laced with something.

I run my sweaty hands over my head and face, and deepen my breath as the panic sets in. I yank the mask off and suck in a breath, gasping for air. My hair hangs over my face, and my hairline is drenched with sweat.

The drugs are too much. The room is spinning, the walls closing in, and an overwhelming thirst consumes me—all I can think about is water.

I squat down and rest my hands on my knees, and when I lift my gaze, in the swirling lights and motion, my soul is vibrating.

My mouth goes dry as I whip my head up, and that’s when I see someone watching me.