“So apparently, you fuckers are just pissin’ on people.” Booker chuckles, as blatantly curious as ever.
I just shrug. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with having kinks—the nastier the better if ya ask me. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving these assholes more ammo to fuck with me. They know too much as it is.
But we’re all some degree of immoral and debauched to do what we do—and enjoy it. It’s why we work at Mayhem Motel, surrounded by other people who just fuckin’ get it. Who all get off on—in one way or another—bringing people fear unlike anything they’ve ever experienced and the release that comes with that. And I have Kaser to thank for it.
We grew up living next to one another in the trailer park back home. I don’t really remember a time before them and their ma, Lillian, moved in, but I remember everything after. It’s pretty much always just been me and them. Kaser knows me better than anyone—who I am and what I need—and they’ve never judged me for it.
I know that if I didn’t have them, I’d definitely be in fuckin’ jail—and it’s because of a close call I had a few years back that we both ended up workin’ at Mayhem.
I may be the one who’s fucked in the head and who needed a “healthier outlet” as Kaser put it, but they’ve got their own shit, too. And when we heard while working the carnival back home that a place like Mayhem was openin’, it felt like somethin’ we couldn’t pass up. Especially after Kaser explained all the good it could give us.
I nearly gave up when we found out how intense the hiring process was, but the fucker never let me. It took fucking forever because we had to do background checks and pull references—and I’m not a patient person. If somethin’ doesn’t give me instant gratification, I lose interest faster than I can blink.
When that shit came back, we then had to get a physical and a fuckin’ psych evaluation, but when I passed—to my own surprise, honestly—there was nothin’ holding us back, and the buzz of something new festered beneath my skin.
It was kinda hard to move away from home, from Ma, but there wasn’t much left for me there, anyway. And Kaser was more than willing to jump ship since their Ma died a handful of years back.
The thought of Lillian dying—how bad it had been—has me dropping my head back between my shoulders and rolling it back and forth to release the tension, pushing the thoughts down deep.
When I sit back up, I open my eyes and look behind me into the mirror, watching as everyone gets ready for the long day ahead.
Graves is the SFX makeup guru for himself, Kian, Wesley, and Booker. Then me and Wesley help Kaser into their suit—and let me tell you, latex is a fuckin’ bitch. We’ve pretty much got it down pat at this point, but it made me realize that’s definitelynota kink of mine… though I’m sure itisKaser’s. It wouldn’t surprise me ifthat’sthe shit they’re into, the fucker.
I’m the only one that doesn’t need special effects makeup or help gettin’ into my clothes. My style is one I’ve made into my own. With my gothic clown makeup and tattered, striped clothes, it doesn’t take me long to get ready. It also helps that I’m a naturally eerie lookin’ guy.
I smile wickedly at my reflection, running my tongue along my fake, sharpened teeth. My gaze catches on Wesley, now covered in green from head to toe. He catches my gaze and smirks, eyebrows wagging. Something restless but heavy settles in my chest.
I’ve found what I need within these walls, with these people.
Each one of us is just as sick as the other.
But I’m still missing something, a gnawing itch beneath my skin I can’t fuckin’ scratch, no matter how deep I dig,how bloody I get.
A sharp rap of knuckles on the door makes me blink. Kierra pushes the door open. “Y’all about done? There’s a line across the parking lot.”
“‘Course there is,” I mutter, but my heart jackknifes, adrenaline surging through my bloodstream. My skin starts to tingle as I push out of my chair, dipping down to double check my face in the mirror before grabbing my axe and filing out behind everyone else. Graves chugs the rest of his Redbull before tossing it in the trash on the way out, nearly elbowing me in the gut as he trips over the threshold.
I lift a brow, and he smirks, but with his heavy, grotesque makeup, it makes him look every bit the cannibal he’s portraying.
“Woo!” Wesley singsongs down the narrow hall, voice echoing as it bounces off the concrete walls. It’s the same thing every day—like a mantra of sorts. Or somethin’ like that. But I’ve never asked.
Even beneath Kaser’s mask, I can tell they’re rolling their eyes. I huff, which makes them shake their head, dropping it slightly so their chin drags over their chest, creating an eerie creak of latex. I shudder at the noise as we file through the single door, all veering off into different directions without a word spoken, our bodies tense and ready as we delve into the mindset to do this.
For me, it’s this dark, consuming,obscureplace I feel I can rarely venture into—even though I do this nearly every day.But when I can delve into it, it’s a high unlike anything else—or it would be if I could justscratch that fucking itch.
I watch as everyone else disperses. They all tend to go to different areas every day—preferring to switch it up—but I always stay at the basement level, loving to see our newest victims come in and experience the black-out rush, the initial blanket of horror. To relish in their“Oh, shit, I really fucked up”moment.
Once that’s over, I always find my way to the rooms where most of the suicides occurred. There are still ropes hanging from their endeavors, and while it sickens most, I quite enjoy the theatrics since everyone that walks through the doors of Mayhem Motel know what happened here before we came along.
Screams echo down the corridor, and I allow my laugh to spill from between my lips, loud and demented as it bleeds with the newfound silence. A promise of the horrors to come.
The strobe lights flash as I walk down the hall, closer to the first group of the day. My heavy bootsthunkon the damp concrete below, resounding and undeniable. As their harsh whispers meet my presence, I slow my descent and drop my axe to the floor. The scrape of the blade against the ground sends shivers up my spine and blood rushing down.
I jump inward, crouching low with wide eyes to meet their frightened gazes. My lips stretch wide, sharp teeth fully exposed as I shout, “Don’t ya know you’re supposed tosmilewhen ya see a clown?”
Their screams pierce my ear drums, making me cackle as they all scramble to disperse, slipping and stumbling around as water leeches across the floor.
“Oh, God.Oh, my God!”
