She gives me another one of those soft smiles, and it makes me wonder what her smile looks like when she’s not using it to be polite. What did it look like when she was laughing just a minute ago? What can I do to make her laugh every day for the rest of her life?
“Thanks,” she says, and then they head upstairs.
Well, time to learn how the fuck to make alfredo sauce, I guess.
Violet and my sister become the best of friends, inseparable on most days. And I always try to come up with an excuse to be in the same room as them. I get less and less awkward every time I talk to Violet—or at least, I think I do. Iget so tongue-tied around her, I basically forget my own name.
We’ve started texting, too, sending each other jokes and things that make us think of the other person, random thoughts throughout the day. I love talking to her, love hearing her ideas. On nights when she stays over, she and Alyssa tend to watch movies in the living room, and I almost always join them. Usually, my sister falls asleep halfway through, and Violet and I forget the movie and talk instead. She tells me of her dreams of getting out of this town, and I tell her mine, too.
“Maybe we could get out together,” she says one night, sleep pulling her eyelids closed.
“Yeah, maybe,” I tell her, but it likely won’t happen. I’m three years ahead of Violet and Alyssa, so I’m graduating this spring. I got accepted into MIT and received a full-ride scholarship from an anonymous donor.
Even though I know it means leaving Violet behind, I have to get out of this town. Too many nightmares haunt me here, too much pain.
But I know Violet, know how smart and strong she is. She’ll get out, too.
•••
Present
She’s even more beautiful than I remembered, especially with those gray eyes wide with fear as she takes in the room. Violet was stunning in high school, but now she’s drop-dead gorgeous. My fingers itch to grab her hips, pull her close to me. A better man would go out and greet her like the old friends they are, make small talk about how we’ve both been since I left.
But I’m not a better man.
And I know from stalking her social media over the years that Violet has a preference for books about men wearing masks. I think she’d like it if I played with her.
Before I can stop myself, I slip on the mask I wear when greeting guests—and when torturing targets. It’s a black tragedy mask with scratch marks and blood covering it. A voice modulator in it deepens my voice, giving it an eerie electronic sound.
When I walk in, Violet is feeling along the edges of the door to the next room, likely trying to figure out how to open it. I’m silent as I walk toward her, my footsteps light so she doesn’t hear me coming.
I step up behind her, close enough that I can smell her sweet caramel and cinnamon scent, just like I remember. “The house isn’t open yet.”
Chapter Six
Violet
I SWALLOW THEscream that tries to tear through my throat and clutch my chest.Holy fuck!I’m not sure if that voice belongs in a horror movie or a smutty romance book—maybe both.
I turn slowly, an apology on the tip of my tongue, but the sight that greets me has me forgetting what words are.
The man in front of me is easily six-three, and he’s wearing a tight, black T-shirt that shows off his muscles. My eyes follow the lines of his black and gray tattoos on both arms up to where his tattooed biceps stretch his sleeves. His face is hidden by a black, blood-splattered mask, which I’m guessing has a voice modulator in it. The eye and mouth holes are covered with a dark-red fabric. He’s so close that I have to tilt my head up to look him in the face.
“I-I’m sorry,” I manage to squeak out. I clear my throat. “I’m Violet Higgins, I’m with theRidgewater Tribune. Italked to your boss, and he said I could look around while you guys finish setting up.”
He doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head to the side. It should be an unnerving sight, like a predator examining his prey, but something about him makes me feel safe rather than scared.
I push forward with the interview, my nerves settling just a bit. “I’m hoping to do a story about how the attractions work, what goes on behind the scenes. Do you mind if I ask some questions about the house?”
“Sure, if that’s what you came for.” He says this suggestively, and I’m not sure how to react. Is he flirting with me?
Why do I kind of hope he is?
I scrunch my forehead at him. “What else would I have came for?”
He lifts a shoulder and then gazes at me through the red eyeholes of his mask. Even though I can’t actually see his eyes, his stare feels intense, sending a shiver over my body.
I ignore the sensation and try to focus on getting information about this place. “So, I’ve heard this is the main attraction. What’s so special about it?” I ask, unimpressed so far. It’s just a room filled with creepy dolls.
