Chapter Fifteen Something Wicked This Way Comes #3
More laughter follows, my flashlight catching glimpses of their faces as they inch closer and closer.
Walking side by side, their broad shoulders moving in synch with one another.
Bits of a clown mask cover the one on the far left, the one in the middle with the signature jigsaw face, and the last sported a simple plain white one that had blood leakingfrom where your eyes would be.
Vomit sits in my throat as they approach me. I back up, up, up, until I hit something solid. I was sure this is what hell felt like. The one with the white mask, the tallest, reaches out and hooks a piece of my braid between his fingers, rubbing it between his thumb and pointer.
I stayed so still while he leaned into me, pressing my hair into the nose holes of his mask and inhaling desperately loud.
“What do you want?” I ask with a scratchy, broken voice.
What I thought was a piece of the maze, begins to move behind me. I step away from him, only to step closer into another body. I had nowhere to go, there was nothing I could do to prevent his arms encircling me, his palm clamping over my mouth as he pressed his hard body into mine.
The one who lurks in the shade and is a child of the night. Even with a mask I knew which one he was. I could feel it.
I ready myself to scream at the horror in front of me,
“Your fear.” His animalistic tone loud over the music and commotion. I can taste the leather of his gloved palm as I wail into his large hand.
The front of his mask is touching my nose. My eyes crossing to make out the black and white skull on the upper portion of his face, the part where his lips should be is hidden by a thick, black gas mask that distorts his voice.
“Your silence.” He continues.
The smell of plastic and smoke is almost overwhelming, but not as strong as the underlying scent of clove and black magic. Adrenaline pumps through my veins like liquid gold. Every nerve ending firing, every atom shaking with energy. I was alive.
I was in the hands of death and I felt so fucking alive.
“The truth.” He grunts.
What truth?
That he’s a murderous son of a bitch? I could have already told him that.
Alistair’s arm snakes around my waist, heaving me closer if possible, the labored sounds of his breathing through the mask, making me quake. I cringe as his dark eyes embed in my soul through the skull.
“I own you now, Little Thief. We own you. You belong to us. Be sure to remember that.” The growl wobbles my bones, my bottom lip trembling.
I cower at his statement, knowing I couldn’t do anything about it anyway. I couldn’t save myself from this moment. I couldn’t stop this from happening.
My heart thudded so hard, I knew he felt it against his own chest. Hot, wet, fluid soaked between my thighs, my body sexually aroused from the charge of primal terror. I told myself it was just my body’s natural reaction. That I couldn’t help it. It was a biological response.
His grip on my body tightened, the hand over my mouth become harder,“You like being afraid don’t you, Briar? You like playing in the shadows with us monsters?” He questions, baiting me like a child.
I jerk against his grip, trying to show as much deviance as possible in my eyes. I was tired of being chased and him catching me. I was exhausted from running, from waiting for him to make a move. I didn’t want to play the scared little girl anymore, even though I knew I was not on the inside.
My body nearly refused, pieces of me wanting to seek out his warmth and the desire that wafted off him in waves, but I fought that back. With all the strength I had left in my body, I reared my head back before slamming it forward into his nose.
A satisfying crunch registers only briefly before I am tearing away from his body and sprinting towards the opposite direction, not stopping to see how he reacted to the headbutt that was making my head throb in pain.
I stumble into the maze, falling into the sides of the hedges, scratching and cutting my arms. I could hear him behind me, his heavy footsteps, the way his boots beat into the ground.
My chest ached for a clean breath of air, without the smoke, my legs burning as I rounded another corner.
I turned for a split second, just to see how close he was to me and when I did my body collided with another. My immediate reaction was to fight them off, kicking, scratching, screaming bloody fucking murder.
“Briar! Briar!” My name is yelled from my attacker as they attempt to gather my hands in their grip, fighting my nails off their body.
“Help! Someone help!” I barrel out, continuing my fight. Delirious and broken.
“Briar! It’s Dean Sinclair, I’m trying to help!” Who I thought was one of my attackers turns out to be the dean of our school. A dean who had wondered into the maze in search of the two students trapped inside after the commotion outside of it.
The walls surrounding me seem to cascade down as I slump into the arms of someone that’s not them.
The devil could be reaching his hand out to help and I’d take it.
Mr. Sinclair wraps his arms around me holding me to his broad chest that smells of old spice and cradles the back of my head, “It’s okay, you’re okay.
” He coos, probably feeling the erratic jumps of my heart and seeing my frazzled state.
I shut my eyes, tears escaping them and it was at that moment I was so tired of crying.
I was so fed up with puking and feeling helpless. Playing a game they were experts at. Nothing but a pitiful little pawn in their chess match. They were ruling my life, my nightmares, taking over my life.
A life I fought to have and I was just letting them take it.
They were spoiled assholes with vendettas I wasn’t involved in. They wanted to kill me, fine. But I was done with their torments and their sick jokes.
I was done being the puppet. I was done being the mouse in this cat dominated game.
If they want to play then fine.
I’ll play too.