Chapter 4 #2
They both nod and take a chair along the far corner to start reading. The process is repeated for the rest of us, and the next thing I know, my shaky legs have some reprieve as I plop into a chair with a hesitant inhale.
Everyone’s already bent over their paperwork, eyes scanning the small print of legal mumbo-jumbo.
Since no one’s looking at me, I close my eyes for a moment, hold my breath for one… two… three… I open them and release it, eyes dropping down to the white papers.
WAIVER AND RELEASE, EXPRESS ASSUMPTION OF RISK, INDEMNITY, AND VOLUNTARY CONSENT AGREEMENT
Oh, fuck. Here we go.
This event is only suitable for persons aged 18+.
You will be asked to verify your age, and if you are unable to produce a valid photo ID card, you will be refused admittance.
WAIVER AND RELEASE AND EMERGENCY MEDICAL SERVICES
Releasing Party hereby RELEASES, WAIVES, DISCHARGES, AND COVENANTS NOT TO SUE MAYHEM MOTEL…
EXPRESS ASSUMPTION OF THE RISK
Releasing Party hereby acknowledges and understands participating in the Mayhem Motel Immersive Experience can be EXTREMELY DANGEROUS and could result in PERSONAL INJURY, DEATH, AND/OR PROPERTY DAMAGE.
The Experience may involve and is not limited to: fog, insects, strobe lights, lasers, foul scents, loud noises, electrical shock, foul language, touching, clothing removal and nudity, sexual contact, dizziness, claustrophobia, suffocation, water and/or water inhalation, brutal aggression, projectiles, psychological distress, use of equipment and facilities which can result in DISABILITY, DISFIGUREMENT, SERIOUS PHYSICAL, MENTAL, OR EMOTIONAL INJURY, DEATH, OR PROPERTY DAMAGE.
VOLUNTARY PARTICIPATION AND CONSENTS
Releasing Party further acknowledges that by participating in the Mayhem Motel Immersive Experience, Releasing Party may be asked to but is not limited to: crawl, jump, fall, and hold their breath. They may be touched, moved, and yelled at.
You can revoke your consent to the above at any time by using a safe word (“RED”).
Once your safe word has been deployed, the experience will stop as soon as it is reasonably possible, and you will be escorted out of Mayhem Motel.
AGREED TO AND ACCEPTED BY:
__________________________________ RELEASING PARTY (PRINT)
__________________________________ SIGNATURE OF RELEASING PARTY
__________________________________ DATE
__________________________________ DATE OF BIRTH
__________________________________ TELEPHONE NUMBER / EMAIL ADDRESS
__________________________________ EMPLOYEE SIGNATURE OF APPROVAL
__________________________________ EMPLOYEE DATE AND STAMP OF APPROVAL
What. In the actual hell. Did I just read?
My mouth is hanging open as my eyes scan the words I just carefully devoured. Electrical shock, suffocation, water inhalation… Sexual freaking contact.
There is no way in hell I am signing this. Especially because it mentions death—actual, literal death. As in dying. As in no longer breathing.
The scratch of a pen makes me jerk my head toward the noise. Lenny’s writing on his paper…. “You’re not actually signing that, are you?” I ask, balking.
“Duh, dude. It’s why we’re here.” He shakes his head without even looking at me like I’m the one that’s out of my mind.
“Did you even read it?”
“Of course, I did. I’m not that stupid.”
“It literally says death,” I remind him.
“Yeah, but that’s not going to happen.” He finishes writing and snaps the pen against the clipboard. “This is all just legality shit, so they don’t get sued.”
His words do absolutely nothing to appease me.
“Okay, maybe, but has anyone actually died before?”
“Not that we know of,” Collin so helpfully adds.
“Oh, that’s just great,” I grumble. “Really reassuring.”
“Lighten up. This is supposed to be fun.”
“I thought it was supposed to be terrifying.”
“Yeah.” He smirks as he strides toward the front counter. He hands over the papers and pulls out his ID. After a minute of them checking and verifying, it goes through, and he’s escorted toward what I assume is the entrance.
Everyone else is close to follow, leaving me still sitting in my metal chair, chilled to the bone while the humidity clings to me like plastic wrap. “Mads, you comin’?” Kane asks from across the room.
I wave around my clipboard, watching the tail-ends of the paper flutter from the movement. Ugh. My eyes pinch shut. My lungs contract. Deflate. My legs hammer against the floor.
“Mads.” I hear my name again.
Please don’t die. Please don’t die. I repeat the mantra over in my head as I scribble my signature at the bottom. My death warrant.
I can’t help the grave thought. I even try to shove it down deep as I show them my ID, watching as they verify my name on both, make a copy, and place my actual card in a file. But still, that feeling lingers.
“Follow me,” a voice sounds out, drawing everyone’s attention. Feet are tapping anxiously along the floor. I can feel the adrenaline surging in the air, akin to electrical sparks.
Like static.
Hushed conversations cease to exist as we follow through the narrow, unmarked black door and down a dimly lit hallway that smells like a wet basement.
My eyes scour the cement walls, tracing over every crack and stain, every cobweb, and suspicious low-hanging beams.
The floor seems to slope downward as we walk, making my feet stutter. I stop and glance around. Uh… is the hallway getting smaller, too?
Air whistles out of my nostrils as my head whips around. Everyone else keeps walking, their steps echoing. A light flickers in the distance as the group pulls further away. I kick my ass into gear and rush to catch up, keeping my gaze pinned to the ground.
But it’s still sloping. Has no one else noticed?
I should’ve stayed behind. This was so stupid.
I don’t need to make friends this badly.
“Did you guys—” Darkness descends on us in an instant, dousing the entire hallway in inky black.
A thud resounds, bouncing off the cool, damp concrete, sounding louder, even as it fades.
Someone gasps, making my hair stand on end. A sharp prickle.
It burns.
I reach out in front of me. When my pinky grazes something, I shriek and jerk away. My body slams into the wall, which I clutch desperately, needing the stability as the unknown unfolds right in front of me.
I knew it.
“Collin!” Brianne screams. I slam my hands over my ears to block out the magnifying screech.
“Bri?” Collin shouts back, sounding further away. My stomach plummets.
“Uh, can anyone see?” Lenny so helpfully asks.
“No, Len. None of us can see a fucking thing.” That was Kane. I’d laugh if I wasn’t about to piss my pants.
I squeeze my thighs together and shove a hand between them, needing as much pressure as I can to keep my urine in my bladder. Jesus, I should’ve gone to the bathroom first.
Actually, I should’ve just locked myself in there until this was all over.
“Where’d that guy go?” That was definitely Lenny. Shoes scrape across the floor. Scuffles and the drag of nails scoring over the porous cement.
“Did you forget none of us can see?!” Collin shouts, sounding so far away.
“We should try to stay together,” I try to say, but my voice comes out in a meek whisper.
“What! Oh, fuck, what is—” Screaming silence descends. My breath halts in my lungs, mid-inhale. I choke on the pressure and the sound of my raging heartbeat hammering in my ear canals.
A slow yet impossibly rapid chug, chug, chug.
I plaster every inch of myself against the damp wall, still pressing harder even as my feet slip.
“Kane?” I rasp on a cough.
Nothing.
“Kane! Lenny?”
Silence.
I can hear the sound of my own panting, loud and rushed as it fills the staticky air. I slowly slide my foot out, away from the wall, hovering it around. When I meet no resistance, I slam my molars together and force myself to push off the wall.
Leaving the stability makes my skin crawl. Something rushes in the distance—a long, echoing sound that grows closer with every step. I swing my arms out around me, blinking rapidly with wide eyes in hopes I can catch a single glimpse of anything.
I’ve never experienced a darkness so absorbent, like nothing exists but me inside a black hole.
It’s the most terrified I’ve ever felt. To be so hopeless and helpless.
As stupid as it is, I close my eyes. Psychological torture is one of their things. This is all this is. A sensory deprivation. A way to knock me off balance.
You can do this, Madi.
Even the voice in my head sounds unconvincing.
“Guys? Are any of you here?” The heel of my palm slams against something, sending me reeling back with a scream. My arms flail as my feet slip, and I tumble to the floor. There’s a creak and a snap, followed by a deep, shuddering groan, like a heavy door being shut.
Something long and thin wraps around my bicep. The foreign touch rips a scream from my throat—a sound so brutal, it splits my vocal cords—and I think I taste blood. I try to yank out of the hold, using every ounce of strength I have, but it’s fruitless.
Wetness trickles between my fingers, making me gasp.
It oozes over my palms. I push down to get away from it, but it starts flowing faster, soaking my jeans in an instant.
The sound of it dripping somewhere in the distance is a focal point as I trudge through it on my hands and knees, swallowing down gags as the thick sludge coats my fingers.
The smell of sulfur wafts in my nose, making me gag. My whole stomach convulses as it only grows more potent. It clogs the air, and I swear if I could see, there’d be a haze in the air.
My chest contracts with the effort it takes to inhale, the stench so repulsive, my body begins to fail its most basic instincts.
My limbs slow of their own volition, even as my mind is screaming at me to keep moving toward what must be a drain. A door. Something—anything. But I can’t think. Not when everything is burning.
My fingers flex through the wetness, pressing against the concrete beneath. It’s low enough it doesn’t go very far up my hands, but it covers my fingers completely.
With a pained whimper, I slowly lower my upper half to the floor. By the time my chin grazes the liquid, I’m bawling, full, body-wracking sobs. My head dips on a slow incline, but when the foreign wetness covers my face, from chin to forehead, I cry internally.
I still can’t breathe, but fuck, the relief of keeping the potent stench from seeping into my pores is nearly life-changing. My lips graze the rough textured cement as I bury deeper in the liquid still rushing across the floor, but I don’t even care.
My heart is still hammering but seems to slow infinitesimally. A slow chug. A despondent lurch.
“Have you ever thought about drownin’ in your own blood?” a dark, hollow voice grazes the shell of my ear, splintering my brain. Just as my head jerks back, a scream already exploding, my forehead drills back against the floor. I inhale whatever liquid is suffocating me.
I splutter, gasping and choking on… blood.
My eyes roll back just as my back bows, my stomach concaving in a desperate attempt to gain the faintest traces of oxygen.
The fingers gripping the back of my head have an iron-tight hold. They slowly drag down, scraping over my scalp until my nape is gripped, and I’m jerked up with a weak gasp, uncaring that I’m probably swallowing blood because… Air.
It fills me rapidly, each inhale burning and aching like my body regrets it as much as it needs it.
“Hmm…” The talons scrape across my skin. I jolt and try to pull away, but I can’t move. I’m held exactly where I’m wanted.
“W-what do-do you w-want?” I choke on my own sobs, hiccupping and wailing. A singular finger pricks at the divot just above the start of my hairline, right in the center of my neck. My legs lock, curled inwardly and twisted back in my awkward position.
A whimper bleeds out of me as the sharp point presses deeper, surely cutting me right open. I hold as still as possible in hopes they don’t puncture to my freaking spine. Trembling and throbbing.
“To hear you scream.” The blade scores my flesh, and I scream as I drown in my terror.