Page 66 of The Pawn

Chapter 34

Mariana's fingers are cool on my face as she presses latex shapes against my skin.

"Stay still for just another minute. I want to see what you look like with bits of mangled flesh all over your cheeks." Smirking, she adds, "This is definitely going to be ascarycostume, not a sexy one, so it's a good thing that's what you're aiming for."

It is—especially now that I've truly gone off the deep end and made a bet with Blake Lee, of all people. I've already taken him down; the kids of Coleridge may have forgiven him, but in South Korea he's been given a nickname: Hothead Woo Bin. His family's entertainment company still hasn't quite recovered from their stock plummeting after the scandal.

So why is it that I don't feel like I'm done with him completely? It's not just because he's kept messing with me since. Some part of me wants to jab at him, not for revenge, but to see what was on those tapes: his darkness, alive in his eyes and absolute. It called to me in a way that makes me feel uncomfortable—even as I'm tempted to play games with him just to see if it's the same kind of darkness that lives in me.

Madness. I'll jump scare him tonight, get him completely freaked out, and have free math tutoring for the rest of the semester.

Or I'll fail, Lukas will finally be told the truth about me, and I'll get to see what I look like reflected in his disappointed blue eyes.

"Alright, you can move your face now." Jumping back from me, Mariana grins and motions to the open bathroom door. "Go check it out in the mirror and tell me what you think. And remember: this doesn't include the hair yet. Once we darken that beautiful blonde you've got going on, make it really limp and stringy, you'll be able to scare the living daylights out of everyone."

Checking my reflection in the mirror, I don't recognize the person I see, only this time it's for a completely new reason. The Brenna who got made over in a stylist's chair is gone, replaced by a dark specter from beyond.

I'm pale as a corpse, my eyelids sunken into my skull, ash and soot smearing my skin. Burn scars twist their way up my neck towards my jaw and ears and drag down one corner of my mouth. My eyes look bloodshot from red eyeliner, and when I tilt my chin down and snarl, I almost scaremyself.

"This. Is. Amazing." Clapping my hands together, I whirl around and throw my arms around Mariana. "I can't believe you pulled it off! I mean—wow. When I've got the rest of my costume on and I'm holding that burning candle, it'll all be over."

She beams at me. "I'm glad you like it. It's going to be really fun to do it all over again tomorrow. Plus your nails and teeth, and then all the other girls. It'll be the best haunted house Rosalind Hall has ever seen."

I hope she's right, because I'm not sure I can take the stressed-out, snappish version of Holly much longer. She's put way too much pressure on herself for this one party—especially when it's not even the biggest event of the semester.

That reminds me. "You'll be coming, right? To the party?"

A skittish expression crosses her face. "I don't know..."

"C'mon—you can't just hang out in the planning area doing makeup. You have to show up for the rest, too."

Biting her lower lip, she murmurs, "It's co-ed, right?"

Which is when I remember: Mariana isn't just the girl who's amazing at doing special effects makeup. She's also the girl who was sexually assaulted over the summer. And if the expression on her face right now is any indication, the rumor that her rapist is still on campus is correct.

"You don't have to participate in the haunted house or anything," I scramble to clarify. "Just, uh, you know... the refreshments..."

Cringing, she asks, "You know, don't you? About what happened to me?"

I don't know what to say to that.

"It's okay. Girls talk. I told my friends to warn everyone about... well. I guess it doesn't matter anymore."

Heart hammering, I dare to ask her, "Do you think you'll ever get justice for what happened?"

Mariana meets my eyes, her gaze strong and steady. "I've considered it. But I just don't know. Some things you don't want to become public."

"Yeah." My heart plummets, but I try not to show her my disappointment. "I guess not."

"Though I've thought of ways to do it anonymously," she adds, as she packs away her materials and tools. "You know, on the internet or whatever. I just don't think I could do it myself. If anyone found out it was me..."

There's so much pain in her voice that my heart squeezes for her. "Well, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. It's not like it has to define your life."

"I know." Her soft smile is enough to break me. "If I ever figure out a way to get justice without exposing myself, you'll find out about it, I can guarantee it. Until then, though, I'm just going to live my best life. I can't let what happened take any more of my happiness away from me."

I can't stop myself from hugging her again before she heads out the door. Once she's gone, I stare at my reflection for a while, tilting my chin this way and that. It really is frightening, almost as if my darkest impulses have been taken out and put on the outside for everyone to see.

A sound at the door gets my attention. The mail has been delivered. As usual, there's a bunch of stuff for Holly in the pile, but a large, thick envelope sticks out from the rest. It doesn't have any stamps or a return address. Curious, I pull it out from the stack, then freeze.

---