Page 48 of Haunted Prey

When we arrived at an old, four-story brick building that looked like a run-down theater, the Uber driver parked by a side door where a small crowd stood beneath a single orange light.

Once Lena was in her chair and maneuvered onto the path, we joined the line. At the entrance, I pulled my ID from inside my sling, where I’d stashed it along with my phone, while Lena handed the tickets to the doorman. He checked our IDs, scanned the tickets, and then gave Lena a quick look.

“The event takes up multiple floors,” he said. “Let someone know if you need to use the service elevator, okay, sweetheart? Or if you need anything else.”

She thanked him as we moved inside. “Hate when they call me that,” she whispered as we moved through a short wide passage, lit only by red light. Drawings of skulls, snakes, eyes, and hands took up both walls.

No surprise the place was dark, with mostly red light to see by. Only the bar at the front had soft yellow light along the bottom and across the mirror at the back. Twisted chandeliers with black lace and beads hung from above. Black skulls adorned tables and counters. A deep EDM beat came from the next room where the DJ played, and people were already mingling and dancing.

In the crowd, we saw leather jackets, latex, net leggings, tight outfits, and boots that could stomp someone’s face in. Many of the clubbers wore heavy makeup while others, like me, wore masks. There were a few in dominatrix outfits and fetish gear.

We got to the bar first so Lena could get her drink. And then we explored.

The room with the dance floor was impressively large with a high ceiling and a single balcony at the top where people could watch from above. Black and red skeletons hung along the ceiling, reaching down for us, while scenes from slasher movies and erotic imagery played on a screen behind the DJ.

Past that, we found more rooms. Some had erotic paintings hung on display while others had people being tied up, shibari style. There was a lot to take in but ironically none of it threw me into a panic like I feared. I remained calm as I walked behind Lena, studying every room and corner in case I saw someone with a badge and a gun on their hip.

There was security, but no police. A few people eyed me and Lena as we passed, especially some of the men, and that got me a little tense, but I told myself over and over that they were just checking us out and not trying to determine if I was the crazy girl who broke out of the mental asylum outside the city.

There were way more rooms than we expected, each with a theme, some occupied with couples sitting in loveseats doing things I didn’t expect to see in public.

It didn’t make me uncomfortable, but it did make me feel that ache of loneliness again, as if I was missing a part of me. That longed to be touched, held, kissed like them. I remembered how Emery felt. How he filled me, made me feel so fucking alive it hurt. I felt that ache in my chest and the throbbing in my veins that went from my ears down between my thighs. A desperate, starving ache I couldn’t sate. In one room, a guy had pinned agirl against the wall, almost exactly how Emery had taken me the first time.

Watching them made me depressed and horny. A shitty combination.

As we went past another room with a few more couples, Lena gave me a look. “Marcus probably would have enjoyed this more than he thought,” she mumbled.

We wandered through the other floors, Lena getting one of the workers to help her in the service elevator while I took the stairs. The second floor was mainly just the balcony looking over the dance floor with a couple lounges. The third floor was off limits, some VIP thing, so we headed to the fourth.

I got there before Lena and found a ballroom with high windows along the back and a small stage to the left. Between the windows were mirrors encased in fancy black frames. A few more chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

People mingled while drinking, as softer music played. A bar stood in one corner, in front of windows where I could see parts of the city all the way to the river.

I stepped closer to one window and stared at the distant water until I felt a hand on my arm. Lena smiled at me, and I smiled back.

“You doing okay so far?” she asked.

“I think so.”

“How about a drink? It’s on me.”

“Do I gotta flirt with you too?” I teased.

“Yes,” she said sternly. “And make sure to smile while pretending to be interested when I talk.”

We laughed as I followed her over to the bar. I ordered a drink called ‘Bloody Morgan’, after my alter ego’s name. A deep red drink that came with cherries skewered with a little sword. It was sweet and a little sour.

Most of the room was bare. Only when we got to the stage did I understand why. It was meant to be the focal point.

We stared at the display, and I felt that sudden unease coming back up like bile.

“Some kink that is, huh?” Lena said, sounding a little uneasy herself.

The display showed a female mannequin laid out and tied up in a slender glass box, her mouth and eyes covered in duct tape. Seven masked figures in dark suits surrounded her, each with some kind of weapon in hand. A couple of them had blades, one had a cane, another a paddle.

I assumed it was some morbid version of Snow White. Someone with a less fucked-up past like mine might find it oddly artistic.

But all I saw as I stared at the woman was me, tied up in a bathtub inside my family home. With Emery’s heavy footfalls thudding through the house in the dark.

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