The darkness wraps around me like a heavy blanket. Every sound feels magnified—the pounding of my heart, the raggedness of my breath, the heavy thud of footsteps outside. Panic claws its way up my throat, threatening to choke me. I press my forehead to my knees, rocking back and forth, trying to steady myself, trying to stay quiet. The air in the closet is stale, filled with a rotting scent. This place, this whole place is rotten.
I don’t know how much time passes. Seconds? Minutes? It feels like years. My mind is racing, spiraling, thoughts colliding in a frantic loop. I try to think of anything but the darkness pressing in on me, the sounds of Lyle running back and forth outside. But images flash behind my closed eyelids—Marissa’s lifeless eyes, Jonathan’s blood-filled mouth, Griffin’s agonizing screams.
A sob escapes, and I bite down on my knuckles to keep from screaming. The taste of blood fills my mouth, metallic and sharp. I can’t do this. I can’t stay here, waiting, hiding, while Lyle is out there—while Tessa is out there. But what if she’s already gone? What if Lyle caught her? And what if she’s right? What if this is all my fault? What if Lyle is doing this because of me?
I dig my nails into my arms, trying to ground myself, to focus on the pain instead of the terror. But it’s no use. The fear is too strong, too overwhelming.
I lean my head back against the closet wall, squeezing my eyes shut, whispering into the dark, “Please… please, just let this be over.”
Outside, Lyle calls my name, his voice twisted and mocking. His footsteps grow louder again, his voice closer. “Tori! I know you’re here!” The sound of him fills my head. He’s going to find me. He’s going to kill me.
I hold my breath, my body tensing. He’s right outside the closet now. I can hear his breathing, heavy and ragged, just inches away. My heart races. I pray and pray. I’m not a religious person, but I’m on my hands and knees right now, begging. I want to live. I want to live. Please, God, please.
And then, just as suddenly as he arrived, his footsteps move away. The sound of his voice fades, echoing farther down the hall.
I wait, counting each second, each distant step until I’m sure he’s gone. My hand reaches for the doorknob, hesitating. I can’t stay here. I have to find Tessa. I have to know she’s okay. I have to find Hayes, and we need to get out of here.
Slowly, I push the door open, peering out. The hallway is lit now, the bright fluorescent light blaring overhead. I step out, blinking against the sudden brightness. The funhouse is revealed in all its plastic horror—cheap decorations, animatronic monsters, peeling paint.
I move cautiously, my eyes darting down the corridor, searching for any sign of Tessa. A shape catches my eye—a figure crumpled against the wall up ahead. My stomach twists as I creep closer, dread clawing at my insides. It’s Tessa. She’s sprawled on the floor, her head tilted unnaturally to the side, her eyes fixed on me, glassy and empty, like one of those porcelain dolls.
A pool of dark blood spreads beneath her, soaking into the grimy floor, the thick liquid oozing slowly outward. Her hand dangles limply at her side, her fingers curled, blood dripping steadily from their tips. There’s so much blood. Too much.
I drop to my knees beside her, a sob ripping from my throat. “No, Tessa… no…” My hands hover over her, afraid to touch, afraid to confirm what I already know. The warmth of her skin is gone. She’s cold. Too cold. My hands, stained with blood, linger just above her, trembling.
Tori!
TORI!
Voices shout my name, but I can’t make out whose they are. My head pounds, a relentless throb that blurs my thoughts. My mind is swimming, disoriented. I blink, but I can’t see past the tears streaming down my face, my vision swimming.
The voices grow louder, frantic, closer. Panic grips me. I think it’s Lyle. I can’t let him find me. I scramble to my feet, my legs weak and shaking beneath me, and I run.
I barrel through a mock vampire’s lair, the air heavy with the smell of old fabric and stale air. An animatronic vampire lunges from a wooden coffin, its plastic fangs bared in a comical snarl. I scream, instinctively throwing my arms up, stumbling back as I slam into a door. The door gives way under my weight, and I tumble through, crashing to the floor.
I land in a room full of mirrors, the floor cold and hard beneath me. My blurry reflection surrounds me from every angle. Then I hear him—Lyle’s footsteps pounding closer, his voice booming as he closes in. But he isn’t alone. Hayes is with him. Hayes is here!
“Hayes!” I scream, scrambling to my feet, my heart twisting with relief and fear. “Get away from him!” I throw myself forward, my body slamming into Hayes, shielding him. I can’t let Lyle hurt him, too. I won’t.
But as I crash into Hayes, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in one of the mirrors. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Staring back at me isn’t my face—it’s hers. Liliana’s. Her eyesare wide, filled with a cold, malicious gleam. Her lips curl into a cruel smile, mocking me.
“I’m not the monster here. You are,” Lyle says.
Chapter
Twenty
Ifeel Hayes’s eyes on me, searching, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Mirrors surround us on all sides, cracked and distorted, warping reality into something twisted and wrong. I stand in the center, and I can see her—Liliana—overlapping my reflection, a ghostly figure superimposed over mine. Her eyes are cold, furious, filled with endless rage. I take a step back, and so does the reflection of Liliana—but that’s not all I see, no—there are more people. A much larger number of people than what’s really in the room. Three women, five men—faces I don’t recognize, crowding the glass. Then I see familiar ones: Griffin, Tessa, Marissa, Jonathan—their images hazy, translucent, as if they’re trapped between worlds.
“Hayes? What…what’s happening?” I rasp, my voice barely holding together, my chest tightening with dread.
Hayes shakes his head, his face pale and tight with fear. “I don’t fucking know.” He grabs my hand, squeezing it tight. “But we should get the hell out of here.”
I don’t move. I can’t. My eyes stay locked on the mirror in front of me, trying to make sense of the twisted images staring back.This can’t be real.“Where are the others?” I whisper, my voice thin and fragile. My mind feels like it’s swimmingthrough molasses, trapped in a fog.Maybe this is all just a nightmare—maybe it’s a bad reaction to Tessa’s gummies.I blink hard, trying to clear my vision, but all I see are flashes of horror—blood, torn skin, and the reflection of Liliana standing where mine should be. “Tessa, Griffin, Marissa, Jonathan… what happened to them?”
“They’re all dead, and you—” Lyle begins, stepping closer, his voice low, insistent.
“Don’t say it,” I cut him off, harshly. “They’re alive. They have to be.” But even as I say the words, doubt twists in my gut. The images in my head—the screams, the blood—they’re too vivid, too real. Their shadowy figures glare back at me from the mirrors, eyes hollow, accusing.
