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Making a face at that, I settle back on my heels. “I have a friend. Back in the arcade. Not like, a friend-friend but you know. Trauma bonding and all that crap.”

“We have supplies,” Ronan cuts in. “At the Ferris wheel. Sort of our little home base. He got us in, so none of the others know we’re here. Or who’s behind the masks.”

“Won’t work for you though, Sable,” Ansel is quick to say. “There’s no way they’d buy another person in a mask they don’t know. Especially another woman. There are…two women here total? Some girl dressed up like a jester and an older lady. A bride.” He makes a face at that, like the cliche hurts him physically. “And another I’ve never met.”

Carefully, oh so carefully, I clear my throat. The sound is delicate, for what it is, and I can feel their eyes on me just as Adrien had opened his mouth to reply. “One other woman.” The words come out slightly embarrassed, and I fiddle with the crowbar in my hand. “The uh, the bride lady can no longer be reached, I’m afraid. Her number is permanently out of service.”

This time, it’s Ronan who speaks. “You killed her.” It isn’t a question, and I don’t look at him. I study the crowbar instead, like the half-rusted metal is the most interesting thing I’ve seen all night.

“You killed her,” Adrien repeated with amusement. “Fuck, that’s hot. Don’t look at me like that, Ans, it is. You want me to just give you the knife? She can have my mask, too. Maybe if I set her loose she’ll run around like a feral Michael Myers and stab everyone to death before morning.”

He shouldn’t be so amused by the idea. I shouldn’t be, either.

Ronan snorts behind me and I can just see him shake his head. “It’ll be harder to get your friend out too,” he admits quietly. “Since you know. There’s no real way out until that fence is off.”

“Okay, but surely someone has to be able to turn it off. You can’t tell me they’ve trapped themselves in here too.” My words garner no reply, and I shift slightly, suddenly wondering if that is the case. If so, I don’t want to be stuck here until morning. I want to try to get everyone out, but that feels a little unrealistic, unfortunately.

I at least want to get Lily out. And Muscle Mommy Miranda if I can find her.

“I’ll go with her.” Adrien’s offer surprises me. By the way Ansel gives him a look, it surprises him too.

“Why?” My more talkative best friend turns, almost putting himself between the two of us. “You barely know her. You were chasing her through the pier with your knife.”

Adrien just grins and puts his mask back on. “Because I offered first,” he replies smugly. “We’ll meet you two back at the Ferris wheel. Besides. If we’re caught, I’m the one they know. I might be able to convince one or two of them I’m supposed to be here.”

I’m not sure that makes a lot of sense, given that he isn’t supposed to be here. But I keep my mouth shut. Being with Adrien, at least, will let me have some space from my best friends so I can process all of this.

Ronan is the one to grab Ansel before the latter can spit out more than a few protests, and the former just eyes me with dry humor. It’s so familiar that my heart suddenly aches, and I stand there, watching as the two of them walk down the stairs.

“You could just, I don’t know, throw yourself into their arms?” Adrien offers, making me stiffen.

God, I don’t think I like him.

“You could just, I don’t know, throw yourself off the top of the coaster?” I retort, turning and hopping back over the old seats of the car. He follows close at my back, and I’m not sure if that should make me feel safe or in more danger. “I bet the view is great from up there.”

“I bet it is.” He stalks closer to me, until his hand brushes mine, and when I snatch my own away, it feels like a victory.

For him.

Even the way his mask tilts makes me think he feels the same, and I silently chew myself out. Everything shouldn’t feel like a power play. Especially tonight. But I can’t help it.

The walk back to the arcade is uncomfortable. Especially whenever we hear a noise that has both of us pressed into some shadow of the pier before I’m satisfied we can go again. Adrien never questions me, even though I glance his way whenever I suggest something. He only shrugs, nods, or agrees.

It’s weird.

For my own curiosity, and without saying anything to him, I deviate from the quickest route back. Instead, I take the path that will lead me right back to the balloon dart game, though every step closer that I don’t hear screaming makes my heart twist in my chest.

Finally, I turn the corner of the midway where I can see it, and my stomach lurches, nausea causing me to swallow back saliva as it attempts to flood my mouth. Beside me, Adrien doesn’t speak. He stares at the scene, at the blood and carnage, without a comment at first.

“I came across him earlier,” I whisper as my eyes take in the scene. The man is still pinned to the wall, surrounded by brightly colored, half inflated balloons. Darts litter the backboard, but they aren’t the darts we used before. Those had been just a little blunt, just a little bent. All of them were hard to use, and actually popping a balloon took more effort than people gave the game credit for.

But these darts aren’t those old, plastic, cheap things. The ones sticking out of the board are long and thick. The metal shines under the flashing lights, and wherever they’re stuck out of the man held against the wall, sagging in his restraints, they remind me of flowers.

Brightly colored, sprouting from his skin, and each one more painful as they march up his arms and legs towards center mass. My fingers twitch as I consider how good of a shot she must have been. Or how much she must have practiced. Blood trickles from the tiny wounds, and I can only assume this had been an incredibly painful experience for him.

Especially the dart sprouting from his eye. Another is lodged in his mouth, like he’d been screaming when she nailed him. As I move closer, I see that his other eye isn’t doing so hot either. It’s busted in its socket, and I wonder if one of the bloody, discarded darts on the floor of the game’s stall is the culprit.

That kind of eye trauma is something I don’t think I could come back from…though I guess thankfully, he doesn’t have to even try now.