Page 27 of Backstroke

Why do I feel like we all just signed up for something way more sinister than hide-and-seek?

I push forward, my mind racing with thoughts of what might happen if I’m caught. The forest seems to close in around me, the shadows growing darker and more menacing. I can hear distant shouts and the occasional scream, adding to the sense of urgency.

I spot a large, hollowed-out tree and quickly duck inside, trying to calm my breathing. The space is cramped, but it offers a decent hiding spot. I press my back against the rough bark, straining to hear any approaching footsteps.

Minutes pass, each one feeling like an eternity. Suddenly, I hear the crunch of leaves nearby. My heart leaps into my throat as I hold my breath, praying that whoever it is will pass by. The footsteps grow louder, then stop right outside my hiding spot.

A shadow falls over the entrance of the hollow tree. I can see the outline of one of the masked figures, their yellow neon face glowing eerily in the dim light. They stand there for what feels like forever.

The mask turns to face me, and I know I’ve been caught. This must be my seeker. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle asthey take a step closer to me. Something about this doesn’t feel right.

I freeze, my breath caught in my throat. The yellow neon face seems to glow brighter as the masked figure’s hand reaches out, fingers almost brushing against me. Panic surges through me and I instinctively scramble backward, trying to put some distance between us.

“I knew I’d find you,” the seeker says in a low, distorted voice that has me trembling. There’s a strange, almost intimidating way in which they stand before me, almost like they intend to scare me. Before he reaches me, something shifts to the side of us and whatever it is has the yellow mask dropping his hand. He scrambles away, leaving me bewildered and alone. I glance to the side, trying to see what scared him off. The shadows seem to shift and move, but I can’t make out anything clearly. My heart pounds in my chest as I take a cautious step forward, peering into the darkness.

I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through me—until I see another figure emerge from the darkness. It’s the pink masked figure. Somehow, deep down, I knew it would be them coming after me, though I can’t explain why.

The pink mask glows eerily in the dim light and the figure moves with a deliberate, predatory grace. My heart pounds in my chest as I feel their gaze lock onto me, sending a shiver through me.

“Number 13, I’ve been looking for you.” The words send a jolt of recognition through me. That voice—distorted as it is—feels oddly familiar, like a distant memory trying to resurface. My mind races, trying to place it, but the fear and adrenaline make it hard to think clearly.

Then in one fluid motion, he has me pinned to the tree. The rough bark digs into my back and I struggle to catch my breath. The pink masked figure looms over me, their grip unyielding.

“I’ve been looking for you,” they repeat, their voice still distorted but undeniably familiar. I search my brain, trying to place the voice, but fear clouds my thoughts.

“Why?” I manage to gasp, my voice barely a whisper.

The pink masked figure leans in closer, their neon face inches from mine. “Because you’re special,” they say, their tone almost gentle.Almost.

The sound of crinkling leaves catches our attention. The pink masked figure steps away from me, looking off into the darkness. Seizing the small reprieve, I take off in a run, my heart racing along with me.

Branches whip at my face and roots threaten to trip me, but I push forward, driven by sheer adrenaline. The forest seems to blur around me as I sprint, every muscle in my body screaming for me to keep going.

Their dark chuckle sends a flutter of nerves to my stomach and before I can react, a jolt of electricity shoots through my body at their words.

“Run, little fox, before I catch you and cage you,” the pink masked figure taunts, their voice dripping with venom.

Little fox.

Remy is the pink masked person.

My breath is coming in pants and I can barely see a foot in front of me, but I keep going. I don’t know if I’m more afraid or thrilled by the chase. My brain is fucked up for even being remotely excited by this, but I can’t deny my drenched core.

Eleven

Remington

“Run, little fox, beforeI catch you and cage you,” I taunt, my voice echoing through the wooded area. Fallon darts through the trees, her movements quick and agile. She slipped from my fingers the instant I backed away to see who was approaching. My little fox is tricky.

I can hear her frantic footsteps, the rustling of leaves as she tries to put distance between us. The thrill of the chase sends a rush of adrenaline through me. I move swiftly, my eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of her.

The forest is a labyrinth of shadows and sounds, but I know it well. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves, guides me closer to her. Fallon thinks she can outsmart me, but she won’t.

I catch a glimpse of her blue hair shimmering in the moonlight from a gap in the canopy of trees. She’s heading towards a dense thicket, probably thinking it will provide cover. I quicken my pace, closing the gap between us.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I call out, my voice dripping with mockery. She slows to a stop before me, probably looking around for the best path to take. Little does she know, she’s already been trapped.

I jump from the shadows, making her shriek. The sound reverberates around us, startling night owls into flight. Fallon stumbles back, her eyes wide with fear and shock.

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