Page 8 of Carnival

Rose

F our cotton candies and two big bottles of lemonade later, Aria and I are sitting on a bench.

The screams, laughter, and music fill our surroundings, and for a moment, I silently observe the scenery.

Footprints out of fake blood, decapitated doll heads, and some that look a little too human for my liking are all around.

People are enjoying their time, taking pictures, seemingly content.

No one even wonders about the murders that took place here. It looks like I’m not the only curious idiot that’s decided to return and perhaps find something out. The thoughts of James don’t leave my head, and I’m barely able to concentrate on what Aria’s telling me.

She snaps her fingers in front of my face, and I blink the thoughts away, turning to look at her.

“Earth to Rosalie,’’ she sighs. “Where did your mind go?”

I just shake my head. “Doesn’t matter. You didn’t find out anything, did you?”

Aria sighs. “No. The hot fella wasn’t very helpful. The only thing he did tell me was the spot of the terror house, but it’s heavily guarded by the cops, so that’s futile.’’

“It’s still worth checking out.’’

“I highly doubt a murder will take place there tonight, given the tight security.’’

I lift a shoulder, shrugging. “Who knows? Besides, I’m not here looking for a murder; I’m here looking for James.’’

Aria immediately freezes, her eyes narrowing at me. It takes me a moment to realize that I just fucked up, majorly, and Aria isn’t the one to let it slide. She grips my wrist and yanks me closer to her.

“Rosalie Grace Ashford,’’ she hisses, and I flinch. “How do you know his name?”

“I just… thought of it.’’

“You thought of it?”

“I just remembered that he told me two years ago that his name was James.’’ I try to play it off, but Aria’s not falling for it. The look on her face tells me enough — she’s pissed, and she won’t drop it until she gets answers out of me.

“Right,’’ she draws out. “And I’m the president of the United States. Cut the bullshit, Rose, and either tell me what’s going on or I’ll force answers out of you, and you know that my methods are less than pretty.’’

“You wouldn’t.’’

“Do you want to test it?”

Reluctantly, I shake my head and take a moment to gather my thoughts.

I fiddle with my fingers on my lap, avoiding eye contact with her like the plague, and slowly begin telling her about what happened last night.

My voice is a hushed whisper, as if I’m scared of anyone else hearing me.

Judgment is something I’m terrified of, especially when it comes to Aria.

But I know she’ll be able to tell if I miss out on any details, and aside from the dirty talk during the act, I tell her everything. From the moment I woke up to feeling him behind me in the room to the moment I woke up this morning, all cleaned up.

Once I’m done talking, I don’t dare look at her. Shame overwhelms me, and I feel like crawling into a hole and dying. Aria’s sharp intake of breath only fuels the embarrassment I’m already feeling, and like the coward that I am, I don’t offer any apologies.

“Let me get this straight.’’ Her voice is low, and the words are coming out of her mouth at a deliberately slow pace.

“While I was trying to extract information on your birth parents and what the fuck is happening in this place, you were getting railed against the tree by the same criminal you’ve lost your virginity to? ”

“Yes,’’ I whisper.

A harsh jolt causes me to flinch, and it takes me a few moments to realize that Aria whacked the back of my head, and she didn’t hold back. My eyes snap to hers, and I offer a sheepish smile, to which she responds with a slight narrowing of her eyes — clearly, she’s not impressed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,’’ I admit, a small sigh slipping past my lips. “I don’t know why I let him do that.’’

“Did you at least enjoy it?”

Blush creeps up my neck, my cheeks dusted with a faint shade of pink. I look away, and the deep laughter from Aria only makes me blush even more. This entire situation is bizarre, and quite frankly, I’m still not positive it’s not a dream.

“Yeah,’’ I mumble. “I enjoyed it.’’

“Jesus Christ,’’ Aria breathes out. Then, she’s silent for a while, looking at my side profile, almost as if contemplating something. The way her brows crease and her lips part a little are her clear tells. “Tell me, Rose…’’

“Yes?” I blink, and Aria inches closer to me.

Our faces are mere centimeters apart, and her expression is blank, void of any emotions.

Her eyes don’t falter, staring at me as if she’s trying to look right into my soul.

Something about the way she’s staring makes me uneasy, and when a lazy smirk tugs on the corner of her lips, I’m caught off guard.

“Was it good?”

“Oh my God,’’ I groan. Aria laughs and stands up from the bench, walking over to the garbage can and tossing the candy wrappers and empty lemonade bottles into it before turning back.

“Let’s go. I’m curious to see if it’s changed over the years.’’

I nod and follow her, grabbing her wrist so we don’t get separated in the crowd.

She leads me through the mass of people, squeezing her way in.

My hand instinctively grips my pocket, making sure my wallet stays there.

We walk for what seems like an hour, but in reality, it’s been ten minutes at most, until we reach the house.

My eyes fall on a couple of police officers, scattered around the premises, looking for anything or anyone that might be suspicious. The line isn’t as long, thankfully, and after waiting for another five minutes, Aria pays for our tickets, and we enter the terror house.

Immediately, a wave of goosebumps runs through me, like a tsunami. My chest tightens, and I subconsciously grip Aria’s hand tighter. She returns the gesture, a silent way of comforting me. Somehow, it works. My heart rate slows down a little, and I find myself able to breathe.

“This place is… the same, yet different,’’ I mumble, coming to a stop in a narrow hallway. Aria stands next to me, nodding and observing.

“Yeah, from what I’ve heard, it’s more like an escape room.’’

I frown. “The entire house?”

She nods again. “It’s a game.’’

“What kind of game?”

“Basically, we’ll be led by an employee to a room, and from there, every person in the group will have to take a different route.

The first one to escape wins money; it’s a silly amount, but it’s done for the thrill.

Anyway, that’s not the bad part,’’ she pauses, glancing at me sideways.

“The thing is… we’ll all be chased around by employees trying to scare us.

If you manage to find the answer and leave the room you’re designed to be in and don’t get caught by the employee, you win.

If you get caught, you’re disqualified.’’

“Seems simple enough,’’ I nod. “They’re all masked, I’m assuming.’’

“Yeah.’’

Soon enough, the said employee appears, and there are another four people next to Aria and me. The man, looking to be in his early twenties, repeats everything that Aria had summarized for me, then starts leading us further into the house.

I can’t help but glance around, wondering if I’m the only one constantly thinking about the murders that have taken place here. Why isn’t anyone else bothered by it? In fact, why am I not bothered by it?

The layout of the house is weird, specifically designed for this. We find ourselves in another hallway after walking for ages. There are six other employees with their scary masks on, with two of them being in the corner, shielded from the light.

The main hall we’re in separates into seven different ones, and the man who leads us here leaves, closing the door of one, leaving us with six possible options. Above us, on the wall, is a digital clock, starting the rundown in two minutes.

“It’s about to start.’’ Aria mumbles and discreetly puts a knife in my pocket. “Keep it. I don’t know who is here and what you might encounter. I’d give you the gun, but you’d probably end up killing yourself rather than your attacker.’’

I snort. “Thanks.’’

“Keep your phone on you at all times, and if you need anything, call me. I’ll shoot my way through.’’

“I don’t think that would be necessary,’’ I mumble.

People around us have already taken one of the doors, and Aria walks in the direction of one, stepping in front of it and waiting for the timer to run out. My palms are sweaty, and the feeling of someone staring at me doesn’t leave me.

In fact, I’ve been feeling it since the moment I entered this house, and I’m trying to remain vigilant, aware of my surroundings. With a deep breath, I glance over my shoulder, freezing momentarily.

One of the men that was hidden in the shadows steps forward, just enough for the poorly lit light to fall on his face. That mask, that disheveled dark hair, and those predatory eyes stare at me, breath hitching in my throat.

James.

Oh God.

The moment the timer buzzes, a loud noise fills my ears, and my feet move on their own accord, running through the door and not stopping once to look behind me. I don’t need to — I can hear his footsteps behind me.

The hall in front of me is long and narrow, and I’m starting to sweat. The longer I run, the more I’m puzzled — how long is this fucking hallway? No, scratch that; how big is this house? Why the hell do I feel like I’m running a marathon?

His footsteps aren’t too far, and he’s quickly catching up with me. He doesn’t say anything, and right now, I’m grateful, because I don’t know how I’d react to his voice. The mere memory of it is enough to cause my stomach to clench, and I’m not exactly proud of it.

My breathing is heavy, and I have a second to make a decision.

There’s a door to the left and to the right. They look identical, both slightly open ajar and both metal, and the darkness inside doesn’t help me make a decision. My eyes close for a moment before I turn left and enter the room, slamming the door shut behind me.

I lean against it, panting and trying to catch my breath. My eyes skim through the room, and a loud scream leaves my lips before I can stop it, my heart thumping against my ribcage, my eyes wide. Fear ripples through me, my body shaking and trembling from the sudden experience.

The room is dark, but a fucking snake slithers next to my feet.

I’m not bold and brave enough to check if it’s a real one that somehow snuck its way in or if it’s a realistic-looking prop that’s done its job properly.

With the snake out of my sight, somewhere in the corner, I swallow thickly and step away from the door, further entering the room.

I whip out my phone and turn on the flashlight, skimming the darker areas.

There are many boxes that I decide not to open, an old desk, and a chair covered in cobwebs and dust in layers so thick that not even a cleaning company would fix it. Somehow, I feel compelled to approach it to see if it has anything useful for me to get out of here.

That’s when I notice that the chair is… odd.

It’s tiny. It has enough room to fit me if I were to sit, but it’s short, and I wouldn’t be able to reach the desk. A small frown is on my face as I crouch down, trying to inspect it. Something about it is unnerving, and I can’t quite place my finger on what it is.

Without giving myself too much time to think about it, I sit on it, my hands on the armrest, dangling off it. I lean back, feeling uncomfortable, eyes glued to the ceiling. That’s when I hear an almost silent click.

I straighten up immediately, my heart sinking to my feet.

My hands are caged in.

As in, two metal bars are wrapped around my wrists, preventing me from leaving. I lean in, then spot that they came from under the chair. It’s probably working on a sensor, and no matter how much I try to yank my wrists to set myself free, it’s futile.

My eyes snap toward the big door when I hear it open, and I can’t describe what goes on through my chest. It’s a mix of anticipation, dread, and sheer excitement. My cheeks warm up, the blood boiling in my veins in the most sadistically satisfying feeling I ever could’ve felt.

James steps inside, letting the door lock behind him with a soft click. He takes another step forward, closing the distance between us. My chin lifts up, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me in distress.

He cocks his head to the side, and although I can’t see what his face looks like, I can see his eyes — the darkness within, the pure madness that threatens to leap to the surface. They’re filled with amusement and something much more twisted, something I’ve never experienced before.

“Well, if it isn’t my little hellion,’’ he muses, the depth of his voice enough to invoke the same feelings from last night out of me. “All caged up, just how I like it.’’