Page 116 of Cruel Pleasures

Several people glance around at each other, their confusion palpable in the air. I’m no different. Instead of staying by the door, I’ve taken a couple steps back into the room.

“That player,” the Hostess says, “is still in the game. Might I say, she has performed quite spectacularly. So, it is with that in mind that I would like to inform you the final round begins now. If player twenty-five can please make her way to the stage. Please, let’s have a generous round of applause for player twenty-five, Sasha Newton.”

A spotlight flicks on and falls on none other than Imani.

28. Imani

deathmatch - Nessa Barrett

Ifeel like I’ve entered some kind of twisted nightmare. The ballroom erupts in wild applause. All for me. All out of excitement at the news that’s just been delivered.

I can’t move. My mind’s gone blank and butterflies have stormed my stomach. The spotlight shines down on me like I’m a criminal that’s been on the run and I’ve finally been found out.

Please, let’s have a generous round of applause for player twenty-five, Sasha Newton.

The words echo in my head yet don’t make any more sense than when I heard them the first time.

A hand grazes the small of my back. Nolan gives me a nudge forward. “Go on,” he says, “take the stage, Sasha.”

I’m prodded forward a second time, so jarringly I almost trip in my heels. I stumble, suddenly uncoordinated, forgetting how to walk.

The Midnight Society members who are in front of me step to the side and form a path for me to walk through. Each one gawks at me like they’ve never seen me before, like some extraordinary new discovery has been made and they’re studying every inch of me.

I can only blink back, speechless.

When I stop and turn around to search for an exit, I’m given another push. Then it’s like the room closes ranks and there’s no other space to maneuver but forward. For me to carry on toward the stage.

I feel sick.

The butterflies fluttering away inside of me melt away and leave an empty sense of nausea in their absence. I can’t swallow due to the way my heart feels lodged in my throat, and a cool chill has trickled over me.

It wouldn’t be surprising at all if I fainted.

Everything around me feels warped. Dreamlike.

Some horrible, terrible, grotesque nightmare that I’ve found myself stuck in.

The rest of the journey up toward the stage blurs. I’m nudged along every so many feet ’til my heel is touching the bottom stair that leads onto the stage.

The Hostess awaits me, gently tapping her gloved hands together in applause. Though her mask serves as a disguise, the expression painted onto it feels mocking. The mouth area is tipped into the subtlest smirk while the deep black holes bore into me.

I stop beside her on the stage and can sense the triumphant energy she exudes.

She’s so fucking pleased with herself.

Facing the captive crowd in the ballroom, she says, “Many of you have become familiar with Sasha over the past couple of weeks. As you may know, she’s the granddaughter of Clive Newton and has spent several years away, studying in medical school. She is also not who she says she is.”

Chatter breaks out among the society members. I’m pulled out of my state of shock for a look over at the masked woman.

“I’m afraid the woman you’ve believed to be Sasha Newton is actually Imani Makune, our twenty-fifth player in this game. Ms. Makune has been playing a slightly more controversial version of our game, where she has infiltrated our ranks and sought to accomplish quite a different goal than the rest of our players.

“But, unfortunately for her,” the Hostess explains, “she didn’t realize the gravity of her actions. She, like the rest of the players remaining, will have to earn their freedom. Only one of them will be surviving the night. They’ll have to battle each other to win… and the rest of you.”

More shock ripples through the room. Members are caught between sidebar conversations among themselves and gasping and staring up at the stage as if to confirm what they’ve heard. The Hostess’s smug air only intensifies.

“You’ve heard correctly. This year we’ve decided to put the power back in your hands. As members of the club, you, too, will have the power to hunt down the players. It’ll allow for a more… interactive experience. The wardens are waiting at the doors to hand out a weapon of your choosing?—”

“You’re crazy!” I blurt out, finally overcoming my shock. I take a wide step back from her. “I’m not participating in any game.”