Page 182 of Phobia

“You lasted a long time,” Kane tells me when I finally finish, capping the bottle with a crinkle. I blink warily at him, noticing the sweat still clinging to his forehead. His hair’s in clumpy knots, and he has no shirt and only one shoe.

He’s covered in some sort of…

“What’s all over you?” I croak, wrinkling my nose. My voice is long gone.

“I have no idea, but whatever it is fucking stinks.” I lean forward to take a whiff, but it slithers right up my nose, nearly making me gag. My eyes roll back as my stomach protests, and I scoot back.

“Yeah, I know. I was… drowned in the stuff.”

“Like… in a tub?”

He nods shakily. He runs a hand through his gooped hair, making it clump even worse. His hand trembles as he brings it back into his lap.

“You guys lasted for nearly an hour. Practically no one else has done that.”

I don’t feel very accomplished.

“Can we go?” I ask. Lenny’s still silent, which I don’t think is very normal for him from the way I’ve seen him act since I moved in earlier, but I think we all have the right to be a little messed up right now.

I know I am.

Brianne and Collin both look absolutely wrecked, clothes hanging off their bodies. They’re glistening with various liquids. I think Collin’s even bleeding, coupled with some bruises.

“Yeah, let's.” Kane stands on wobbly legs and walks across the small, dark room to rap his knuckles on the wall. The door jolts open, making me cry out in surprise. No one even bats an eye, which I’m grateful for.

“If you all would follow me.”

We file behind, each step haggard and slow. My whole body aches, and each press of my feet against the floor makes my spine pulsate and throb, sending live wires of pain radiating outward.

We’re brought to another room that looks nearly identical to the front office, where we signed our freaking souls away. Dark, ominous.Hollowed.

Our IDs are handed back to us quickly, which we all clutch in our hands awkwardly without any proper clothes. Which makes me glance down at myself. I’m the only one in this obvious state of undress.

“Um, can I get my clothes back?” I ask hesitantly, forcing myself to look up. Their eyes light up in amusement as they track over my naked body. Their gaze locks on the collar still donning my neck.

I don’t know why I haven’t taken it off yet.

I should take it off now.

I trace the sharp edge of my license as I wait.

“No, sorry. It’s all in the waiver.” They flutter their hand around to enunciate their words. My jaw drops open slightly, though I’m not really all that surprised.

That creepy clown probably kept them for himself.

I eye my dried, pissed-soaked boxers with chagrin. Kane bumps his shoulder into mine. “It’s okay. I’ve got a hoodie in the car. And it’s dark out right now.” I nod my acceptance and turn away as we’re ushered out of Mayhem.

Once the cool air stings my skin, I suck in a pleading, whimpering breath. It seems the others do the same because we all stop and shiver, staring up at the cloud-covered sky, making the inky darkness feel denser, heavier as it settles upon us like a weighted blanket.

A suffocating blanket made of coal and ashes. Of hell and devilry.

I peer over my shoulder, eyeing the darkened, decrepit motel with equal parts disdain, misery, and curiosity. The inside is nothing like I’d imagined. The layout, the…people.

The outside, though, is every bit the abandoned motel one would imagine. Shuttered windows, peeling paint, weathered wood. All wrapped in a bow of horror.

With a shiver, I right my gaze back down to the gravel, head hanging heavily between my shoulders. Kane limps on his one bare foot as we shuffle across the gravel parking lot, back to the Pontiac that’s a beacon of sanity we all desperately need.

We settle in our seats, each of us disturbingly quiet.