Page 135 of Under the Lies

My body is frozen and not only from the cold.

Spinning around, I look for an exit. Iron gates are a beacon in the distance. I start toward them.

With every step, another question forms: how did I get here? Who grabbed me?

Why am I here?

Somehow finding the courage, I take a step and then another toward the exit only for a body to step into my path.

A black hood pulled low over their head steps in front of my path. I freeze, memories of another night with a stranger wearing a black hoodie come rushing back to me.

Is this the same guy?

Holy crap I’ve forgotten how to breathe. My chest is tight, lungs not working. Time slows down as they walk toward me with a cat-like grace, lazy and unhurried. His hood falls revealing a full-faced mask. Set in a shiny plastic smile, a voice asks, “Ready to play?”

No. I run instead. Laughter trails after me.

I’m close to the exit when I no longer hear the laughter. No longer hear anything but my footsteps breaking leaves that have dried and fallen to the ground.

Arms wrap around my waist, pulling me back just as I’m about to reach the destination.

A hand wraps around my throat. The hold tighter than I’ve ever felt, enough to know my skin is turning a suffocating shade. I can’t breathe. I don’t move. Even my heart feels frozen in my chest, already failing. Giving up. Accepting fate.

Too bad for them, I’m not. I kick my legs in a wild manner, striking their legs. We buckle but are quickly righted.

“That was very naughty of you, Sayer.” My name rolls like a purr from his throat in a voice I don’t recognize. His fingers dig into my pulse. Where it should be. I’ve gone numb. “I think I have to teach you a lesson.”

He swings me around to face the graves before shoving me down on the ground.

Dirt, sticks, and horror dig into my knees and out-stretched palms.

Air. Air. Air. I need air. And it’s not coming in fast enough.

A boot presses into my lower back, pushing me farther to the ground.

I try to fight, but can’t.

He pushes down harder until I’m flat on my stomach. Once I’m pressed close to the ground, he removes his boot only to stand on either side of my hips.

Fingers tightly wrap around my hair and tug, twisting my head to the side. Seeing him crouched above me. “You can’t escape me, pet. You will not win and in the end, you will only cause more harm to yourself. Is that what you want, Sayer? To hurt yourself?”

I try to shake my head, to answer, and his grip tightens around my hair. Fisting more and limiting all movement.

“Such fear in your eyes,” he marvels. I squirm, getting filthier and filthier as my clothes rub along the sodded lawn. “I wonder how far that fear can go.”

He lets go of my hair and stands up. Quickly, before his mind changes or he makes his next move, I twist around, scrambling away from him. My palms and soles carry me backward until I collide into something, no longer able to move.

My body nails into something strong, something hard. Something rough and carved.

Peeking around, I see a headstone.

I jump up, choking on rising bile.

Hands clap. “Fascinating. How much do you fear death?”

I shake my head. Doesn’t everyone fear death?

“Stop moving,” he orders, no longer sounding like the delighted sociopath and more hardened. Like a creature from Hell itself.

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