When we reach the hole, it’s jagged and sharp. “You first,” Hayes insists, helping me climb through, guiding me to avoid the worst of the broken glass. As I scramble out to the other side, he squeezes through after me, wincing as the glass rips through his shirt and into the skin of his broad shoulders.
We stumble out into a dark hallway, the chaos from the room still raging behind us. I can feel his breath on my neck, both of us gasping for air. “We have to keep moving,” he says, grabbing my hand again. I nod, squeezing back, and we run.
We race down the dark, narrow hallway. The walls are crumbling, plaster and wooden beams breaking away as the funhouse collapses around us. I can feel something following us—its presence is close, a heavy, dark energy that presses in from all sides. I don’t dare look back. I can’t afford to slow down, not even for a second. Hayes grips my hand tightly, pulling me forward, his pace tenacious.
A sharp turn takes us into another twisted corridor, lined with warped mirrors and flickering lights. I glance to my side, seeing my distorted reflection stretch and bend. But then, just behind me, I see something else. A shadow, long and thin, a blur of blonde hair, moving with an unnatural speed. Panic grips my chest. "Hayes, it's right behind us!" I shout, urging him to move faster.
The hallway seems endless, every turn leading to another, the funhouse playing tricks on us. The ground shakes beneath our feet, and I stumble, my shoulder slamming against a wall. Pain shoots down my arm, but I force myself to keep going. We have to keep moving. We have to get out.
“Tor—” Hayes’s voice is strained, desperate. “If we don’t get out of this?—”
My chest tightens, tears blurring my vision.If we don’t make it out? “Hayes, don’t… don’t say that…” My voice breaks, coming out in choked sobs.
“I fucking love you!” he shouts, his voice raw, filled with a fear that mirrors my own.
“I—" My words are cut off as something sharp slices across my arm, ripping through fabric and flesh in an instant. A scream tears from my throat as I clutch my arm, feeling the hot rush of blood pouring down. The pain is immediate, blinding—a searing agony that shoots up my arm and into my shoulder. My skin feels like it’s been peeled back, the rawness exposed to the coolair. Every nerve is on fire, and I nearly collapse from the shock of it.
Hayes’s hands are on my arm in an instant, his eyes wide with alarm. "Tori!" he shouts, catching me before I fall. He sees the blood, his face going pale. "We have to keep moving. I know it hurts, but we can't stop here!"
I nod, gritting my teeth against the pain. My vision spots, but I force myself to focus. I push through the burning in my arm, the slick warmth of my own blood dripping down to my fingertips. I bite back another scream and keep running, leaning on Hayes for support. The walls are shaking harder now, pieces of the ceiling falling around us.
“There!” Hayes points ahead, where a small, broken window offers a way out. It’s high up, but it’s our only chance. “We have to climb.”
He boosts me up first, his hands steady despite the chaos. I grit my teeth against the pain in my arm as I pull myself up, the jagged edges of the broken glass cutting into my palms. I scramble through, my legs kicking against the wall, and drop down onto the other side. Hayes follows quickly, pulling himself through just as a massive beam crashes down where we stood a moment before.
We tumble out into the night, falling to our knees in the cold dirt outside. Moonlight washes over us, cool and pale, and for a moment, I just breathe, my body shivering, my arm screaming in pain. I can feel my blood soaking into my shirt, the wound throbbing with every beat of my heart.
Behind us, the funhouse groans like a wounded beast. Carnival music plays, distorted and eerie, mingling with the sounds of laughter that shouldn’t be there. It’s wrong, all wrong, and I know we can’t stay here resting for too long. I know we need to keep running.
“We should burn it,” Hayes says, his voice rough with exhaustion. “Burn it to the ground.”
I nod, clutching my arm, trying to stop the bleeding. “How?” I ask, my voice hoarse and raspy. “We don’t have anything… no matches, nothing to…”
Hayes glances around, desperation in his eyes. “We’ll find a way. We have to.” But there’s nothing here but grass and dirt, and the funhouse is built of wood soaked with years of damp and rot.
The ground beneath us trembles again, and we know we can’t waste any more time. Hayes pulls me to my feet, and we bolt. We sprint through the dark forest, branches scratching at our skin, roots threatening to trip us. My arm burns with every step, the pain radiating through my body, but I force myself to keep going.
Gravel kicks up under my feet as we hit the parking lot. I stumble and fall, scraping my palms over the tiny sharp rocks like a cheese grater.
“It’s okay,” Hayes says, his arms around me, lifting me up. “I’ve got you.” He gets me to my feet and tucks me solid against his chest, then drags me along until my legs start working again.
We burst through the front doors of the mansion, the weight of the old wood slamming against the walls, echoing like a gunshot. The air inside smells like flowers on the verge of death. “Hayes, where are we going?” I pant, struggling to keep up as he pulls me through the dark hallway.
“The kitchen!” he pants, his voice firm, his steps sure. He doesn’t look back, just keeps running.
“What? Why?” I cry, panic tightening my chest. “Hayes, please, let’s just get in the car and leave! We need to get off this property!”
“No, Tori,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s the only way to end this. We need to make sure she can’t follow us.”
I still feel Liliana’s cold, dead grip around my chest, squeezing tighter, making it hard to breathe. “But if we get far enough away, maybe… maybe she’ll lose her hold…” I’m gasping, tears streaming down my face. “Please, Hayes, please!” I need to get out, now. “Please!”
He doesn’t answer, just keeps running. We burst into the kitchen, and Agatha is there, her face pale and frantic. “What are you doing?” she screams, her eyes wide with terror. “Go back! She’ll kill us all if you don’t!”
Hayes doesn’t stop. He heads straight for the industrial-sized stovetop, turning all the gas knobs to the maximum. I can hear the hiss of the gas escaping, the sharp, acrid scent filling the air. “Hayes, what are you doing?” I shout, fear clawing at my insides.
“We’re going to blow this place to hell,” he replies, his voice cold, determined. “Agatha, you’ve got two minutes to get out of here before it goes up in flames.”
Agatha’s eyes go wide, her face twisting in horror. She drops the knife she was holding, the blade clattering to the floor. Without another word, she turns and runs out of the kitchen, her footsteps pounding down the hallway.
