Page 32 of House of Horrors

I don’t see the blight until it’s too late. It barrels at me, bursting through the streamers and locking its swollen arms around my body. My scream rips through the air as we crash to the ground. My nails dig into the soft flesh, sinking through the rotting tissue and tearing it apart. I pull apart strips of meat, my heart pounding louder than the music. “I didn’t spend two hours doing my makeup to die fighting moldy looking cheese!” I claw faster, gritting my teeth together.

Life or death.

The blight towers above me and its mouth yawns wide. A wave of fetid heat washes over my skin, the stench of decay curling from its rotted teeth. I claw at its chest frantic, but the monster’s grip refuses to loosen. Adrenaline surges, propelling me to fight harder.

With a guttural groan, I force myself upright and slam my forehead into the blight’s monstrous face. Pain erupts. Its grip falters. I scramble to my feet, groaning as my nose throbs. My eyes dart around for anything that might help.

A balloon floats my way, drifting aside to reveal it. A sledgehammer banded in red and white stripes. I bolt forward, the roar of my own pulse drowning out the music. I pray it will be powerful enough to defend me.

My fingers curl tightly around the hilt, every muscle in my arms burning as I heave it upward. It has weight—it might be enough. Every one of my senses prickles, telling me that the blight is close behind me. I spin on the heel of my boot and swing. My hammer slams into the monster’s gut, forcing it to double over, gasping for air.

I need to get back to Jason.

Gripping the hilt with both hands, I hoist the hammer high above my head and bring it crashing down. The blight erupts in a shriek of pain and collapses at my feet. Blood bubbles through the cracks in its skull, but I need to make sure it won’t rise again.

Destroy it.

“It’s time to die, motherfucker.”

I strike repeatedly—again and again— until the blight’s head is nothing but ruined pulp. My arms quake so violently that the weapon slips from my grasp and crashes to the ground with a metallic thud.

“Shit,” I hiss through heavy breaths. Sweat covers my body.

I’m wasting too much time.

Each step sinks my boot deeper into the slick mess of brain matter as I cross the monster’s remains. The hammer is too heavy to bring with me. I scan the wreckage, looking for a weapon that’s lethal enough to tip the odds in my favor.

A dartboard hangs on the wall, riddled with what appears to be throwing knives. I rush over and snatch two, their cold metal ringing shrilly as I knock them together. Not much, but it’s better than nothing. I can stab the blades through a blight’s throat or jab its eyes out. That’s better than ruining more of my manicure. It’s bad enough that I’ve got monster goo under my nails.

Running through the balloons, I burst out of the room, uncertain of how much time has slipped away. But it’s long enough that Jason could be lying dead in a room. I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have left him in the first place. That was my first mistake––listening to a goddamn man.

I enter the mirrored hallway and look around. There’s only silence. Too much silence. Even the music has stopped.

“Jason!” I scream. “Where are you?”

My eyes dart from side to side while uncertainty tugs at me, urging me to choose a path.

It seems unlikely that he would retrace his steps to the front of the house. Left is the only way forward.

I burst into a sprint, haunted by shifting reflections that mock me from every angle. Ignoring the door on my right, I charge forward. The outline of the door ahead quivers like it’s rewarding my choice, hinting that this is the correct path.

I need to get back to Jason.

My fingers curl around the handle. “Please, let him be okay. If my future husband is dead, I’m never going to forgive him.” My hand shakes as I push the door open and slip into the waiting darkness.

Eighteen

Jason

The chainsaw’s snarl grows louder, rattling my nerves and flooding me with fear as I wait, muscles coiled and ready to fight. I’m counting the seconds for Daisy to return with something—anything—that could help us defend ourselves.

Terror is a strange, unusual feeling, one that I don’t experience often now that I’m older, and I despise how it makes my body tremble. My heart pounds so loudly that I can barely hear my own thoughts. It brings me back to the past, when I was younger and the sound of Jerry’s footsteps outside my door would send dread churning through my stomach. God, I had forgotten that, forgotten the way I would lie in bed awake so I could hear any threats coming, and wouldn’t sleep until the house was deathly quiet. Fuck this monster for trying to draw out my long-buried demons.

The blight lurking at the end of the hallway edges backward, and I sense that it wants to bolt. I shake my head, flexing my fingers and forcing a grin to bloom through my rising panic. I’m determined to stand my ground, to protect Daisy, even though I know I could die tonight.

After being shown visions of the past by the voice, I knew death was a possibility, but until now, I never truly believed it could happen to me.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips while I focus on easing the anxiety coursing through my body, shaking it off with something more comfortable—false bravado. I’ve always been good at pretending that I’m okay, even when I’m not.