Page 60 of Brutal Kingdom

Liar. I bet your panties are drenched right now just thinking about me touching you again

I’m so focused on the text that I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. My friends are no longer in sight. There are three directions I can travel and people scrambling down the passageway of each in both directions.

Looks like someone’s been left behind. I’ll give you a little hint. Right to exit, left to stay and play the game

He could be lying. I choose neither option and head straight

I’m hurt that you don’t trust me

Why would I? I don’t know you

You should’ve turned right and exited the game. Now when I catch you, you’ll be screaming in pain.

I’ve waded deeper into the labyrinth. In the beginning, random cracks of light broke through. Now there’s nothing but the dark, the music, the heavy breathing and screams. They aren’t the fake kind either. They’re blood curdling. Letting me know someone or something really scared them. I decide to avoid the direction those screams are coming from. This time, I turn right just to see if this corridor leads to an exit. It doesn’t. It leads to a large room, so I back track but the hallway now leads to a dead end. How did they do that?

The construction and design is of this place is high quality, but I don’t have time to admire the special effects they’ve got going on in here. I need to find my friends and get out. I go back to the room and walk around, looking for a clue. There’s about fifteen other people in here, grabbing things off the desk and flicking the switches on the wall. There’s a theme to the decorations in this room. Everything is either a lion or a witch. I walk towards what looks like a wardrobe and pull open the doors. On instinct, I step through. Giving a triumphant yelp when I push against the back wall and it parts, leading me into another room.

Looking around, I find a theme for this one too. Scarecrow and ruby slippers. I walk towards the heavy curtains and step behind them into another room. And that’s where the easy answers end. Because I’m clearly not in Kansas anymore. This room looks more like a sex dungeon. Paddles, whips, and riding crops line the table that sits just inside the room. I can feel it now. The room shifting, turning the way a magician turns his magic box. I look behind me, the curtain I stepped through no longer there. I can make out the faint outline of a door. Stepping over to it, I pull the handle. I don’t know why I bothered. I knew before I even touched it, it would be locked.

The phone that’s not mine chimes. It’s been quiet for the thirty minutes or so that I’ve been making my way through this maze.

Walk to the table on your right and put the blindfold on

I’m shaking my head. Obviously, wherever he is, he can see me.

Trust me, you don’t want to see what’s about to happen

I’ll be gone before you have a chance to put a finger on me

I wasn’t talking about what’s happening between you and me

I’m momentarily frozen when another door opens and six people walk in. I hurry to the door, but it closes and I hear a lock sliding into place behind it. The newcomers look around the room, same as I did. One girl yells excitedly. “Yes, daddy!”

Someone else says, “I’ve always wanted to be chained like Ana was.”

A guy says, “We should be looking for a way out.”

Another guy says, “We will, but there’s no reason we can’t have a little fun, first.”

This room isn’t as dark as the others. I can see everything. Whoever is texting me is right. I’m not so sure I want to see this. Zippers come undone, shirts fall to the floor. I hear that first excited gasp or grunt when you’re being touched in a way you like. The lights blink off. It’s completely black when it turns back on. There are men standing there in ski masks, with bloody knives and chainsaws in their hands.

I watch as a knife slashes across one of the guy’s chest. I can’t help it. I scream, and back away, even though I know it’s gotta be fake. The girls are screaming too, as they get their wish, being carried over to the contraptions in the room. One is chained the way her hero was in the movie, the other is chained to the bed.

What’s not fake is watching the women being whipped, writhing in pain, moaning in ecstasy. What’s also not fake is I’m responding to it. Once again I muse that something must be broken inside me, to be feeling anything other than disgust at this.

I need to get out of here. It’s wrong to watch them. Whoever they are. Tuning out the sounds, I walk around the room, trying to find another way out. The number fifty-four illuminates in neon red on the wall. I take another look around. The room could be a sound stage. Or studio. Studio 54 is that movie about the porn industry, right? I press the five, then the four and the lights turn green. A small door opens. I have to crouch down and crawl through it, but I take my chance.

When I finally emerge, climbing to my feet, I’m in a deserted hallway. I walk it until I reach a room that looks like a golden library. I notice the movement behind me too late. A cloth slips over my eyes, and my hands are bound in front of me with what feels like rope on my wrists. Something cold coats my lips. Ice. I lick it, thankful for the coolness because my mouth is feeling dry. I open wider, taking it into my mouth. Tasting the Irish cream on it.

It melts. Another is pushed into my mouth, this time the thumb lingers against my tongue. On instinct, I bite down on it. His hiss is satisfying, and I smirk, crunching the ice between my molars.

“You’re gonna pay for that.”

I strain, trying to place the voice. It’s soft, husky, deep. “My friends are probably out by now and looking for me.”

“They’re still here, facing their own demons.” The words are spoken in a measured cadence.

“Is that what you are? A demon?”

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