24. Mona #3
This is a role-play. Trauma exposure sex therapy.
I’m safe, I remind myself again, but it does little to calm my racing heart. Although I think that’s just getting started.
A creak sounds ten feet from me, and my eyes bounce upward. I peek through my lashes at the hidden door that is now open by a few feet, a man in a Ghostface mask filling the frame.
“Better run, Scaredy-Cat,” Casper sings into my ear, making me jump ten feet in the air because, somehow, in the span of four seconds, I forgot about the earpiece.
The man takes a big step out of the room, and light flickers off of something in his hand, drawing my attention to the very real knife.
It’s fake. This is all fake. He’s absolutely not going to stab you.
Or your manifestation skills are once again miraculous, and you’ve conjured a masked killer.
Shut up! I shout back.
“Five, four, three.” Casper counts down slowly, and it lights a fire under my ass.
Spinning on my heel, I rush out of the room and burst into the hallway, a whole new wave of fear washing over me.
The lights are all dimmed, the house lit only enough to see a few feet in front of me. In the shadows, I see a boot move, and another Ghostface emerges from the hallway where my room was.
“They won’t touch me?” My voice quivers, fear gnawing into my bones as I hear the one in the library behind me drag something along a countertop or the wall. I wonder if that rule applies both ways.
“Do not hit the Ghostfaces, please,” Casper groans, reading my mind. “Or punch or kick. I promise you, you won’t overpower them. Keep moving, Scaredy-Cat, or you’ll force my hand.”
I don’t ask what that means. I accept my fate and carry on, moving the only direction that isn’t blocked by a white-and-black mask, toward the stairs.
Their actions remind me of how the haunted house is structured, actors positioned in pivotal places to guide the guests, like herding sheep through a maze.
They’re leading me somewhere. I just don’t know exactly where yet, but if I had to guess, it’s toward Barney.
Or as Cas would prefer the mask to be referenced as, the purple devil emoji.
My hand glides atop the railing, and a scream rips out of me, echoing through the house as the two Ghostfaces take off, their footsteps pounding into the wood behind me.
I fly down the steps, racing down the second story.
But another Ghostface is there, blocking me from going anywhere but down to the main level.
Adrenaline is coursing through me, forcing my breaths in and out faster and faster.
“Ticktock. They’re getting close.” Casper’s voice sounds again in my ear, and my entire body flails. I somehow managed to forget yet again about the rubber piece in my ear.
A nervous shiver runs down my body. If this is too much, I can stop. But the adrenaline, mixed with the touch of anxiety, and the sexy voice of Casper in my ear—it’s somehow a combination for ecstasy. I’m scared right now—I am—but I want to keep going.
The front door is cracked open, and I’m guessing that I’m supposed to go through it. Or it’s a trap, and a Ghostface is going to pop out on the other side. Pivoting on the ball of my right foot, I take off, turning toward the lounge seating and—
“Oh my fucking Goddd!” I scream, the bloodcurdling vibrato reminding me of Samara Weaving in Ready or Not.
I smack face-first into a black robe, the same creepy white mask staring down at me as I stumble backward. All blood pools from my body, every single hair standing on end.
He lifts his hand, revealing a silver blade with a maroon handle. Slowly, he waves it back and forth, taking a step toward me at the same time.
My body is screaming at me to fight. I’m having a hard time separating reality from fantasy.
It’s how I’ve been forever, battling the aggression desperate to lash out whenever I’m backed into a corner.
The problem with that is that the universe scooted me right on into the corner every chance it got.
This isn’t the place to fight with a massively large man wielding a knife or to tell him where he can shove it. I’m trying to be less of a bitch, but it’s still a work in progress.
I slam my eyes shut, taking a few breaths.
In and out. In and out. In and out.
The man freezes along with me, not touching or ushering me to move on. Clearly, he was given the protocol from Casper on how to help me through these moments. Both for my sake and for his because if he had pushed me a tiny bit further, I would’ve kneed him right in the dick.
But thankfully, my guardian devil has all the bases covered. He designed this night incredibly carefully, no detail left out or stone unturned. He’s the reason I feel comfortable right now—at my core at least, somewhere beneath the surface-level fear.
It’s because of Casper that I escaped the armor I had imprisoned myself inside of for so many years. It’s because of him that I know how deep love can go and how full a heart can truly feel.
And it’s because of him that I have the strength to open my eyes, ready or not for whatever’s coming next.