"Don't Forget to Breathe"

I got out of my shower, combed through my hair, and put on my best clothes that were neatly placed against a chair by the vanity. With my wedding just one week away, my best friends set up the perfect bachelor weekend. It’s all me and the guys have been talking about since the day I got engaged. Clubbing, drinking, getting into trouble, you know? The kind of stories we’ll still be laughing about years from now.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out my fiancée, Kendra, isn’t happy about it.
She’s been giving me the cold shoulder ever since I told her about the trip, but I chose to ignore most of it. It’s a bachelor weekend. Tradition. One last weekend of freedom before I get married. Not that I told her that part, of course. I value my life, and she just so happens to know where I sleep.
For the past week, she’s been repeating the same bullshit rules like she thinks I’m going to forget them the second I leave the house.
“Make sure you don’t drink too much.”
“Don’t stay out too late.”
“Don’t talk to any women.”
By the third or fourth time, I stopped really listening. I started giving her the same answers over and over again.
“Mhm.”
“Got it.”
“Promise.”
Whatever keeps the peace. Nothing I say will satisfy her anyway.
It’s not like she can seriously expect me to go on a bachelor trip without drinking. And if I argue with her, she’ll probably just threaten to cancel the wedding again. She’s done that enough times already that the words barely mean anything to me anymore.
Tonight, though, I’m not letting any of it bother me.
For once, I’m going to forget about the wedding, forget about her rules, and have a good time with my friends.I go over the plan again in my head. First, we check into the hotel. Then we plan on hitting some of the best nightclubs Manhattan has to offer.
The city is only a few hours from my house in Pennsylvania. Far enough away to feel like an actual escape, but close enough that we don’t have to waste half the weekend traveling. More importantly, it’s far enough that I don’t have to worry about Kendra making some surprise appearance to check up on me.
The boys and I decide to carpool to save money on gas and tolls. It’s not like we plan on doing much driving once we reach the city anyway. Manhattan traffic alone is enough to send anyone straight into anger management.
I hear them before I even see them.
A car horn blares outside.
Then again.
And again.
I laugh to myself as I grab my bags, but before I can even make it to the front door, Kendra is already outside on the steps yelling at them.
“Shut that shit off!” she screams.
I cringe.
The guys, thankfully, are smart enough to ignore her.
If anything, yelling at them only encourages them. The horn starts going off even more as they cheer from inside the car.
I push past Kendra and head down the walkway.
“Shotgun for the man of the hour!” Derek shouts before giving the horn two quick blasts.
“Fuck the hour. The whole damn weekend!” Andrew yells from the back seat.
He grabs both sides of the passenger headrest and starts shaking the chair like a complete maniac.
I’m already laughing by the time I reach the car.
I toss my bag into the trunk, then glance back toward the house.
Kendra is still standing on the steps.
Arms crossed.
Not smiling.
For a second, something about the way she’s staring at me makes my stomach tighten. Until I remind myself she’s been acting like this all week.
“Oh, come on, baby. Don’t be like that.”
I walk back over and kiss her, figuring it’ll calm her down a little.
It doesn’t.
She doesn’t kiss me back.
She doesn’t say anything at all.
She just stares at me with that same pissed-off expression, like I’m betraying her by leaving even though we’ve had this weekend planned for weeks.
“Fine. Be that way,” I mutter.
I turn around and climb into the car.
The second I shut the door, Derek slams on the horn again. The whole car erupts into laughter, and he pulls away from the curb before Kendra gets the chance to come after us.
I look back once through the window.
She’s still standing on the steps and still watching as if she’s trying to give me hypothermia with her glare.
Then we turn the corner, and she disappears from view.After hours of old college stories, stupid jokes, and music loud enough to burst our eardrums, we finally pull into the parking garage closest to our hotel. It’s only a few minutes away on foot, which means we won’t have to drag our bags halfway across Manhattan like a bunch of lost tourists.
We barely spend any time in the hotel room.
The bags hit the floor, everyone checks themselves in the mirror one last time, and then we’re right back out the door. By the time we reach the first club of the night, it’s already close to ten.
The place is packed.
Music pounds through the walls hard enough that I can feel the bass in my chest. People crowd around the entrance beneath flashing lights, everyone dressed like they’re trying to prove something to the bouncer, to themselves, or both.
We fit right in.
Before reaching the front of the line, we put on our expensive watches. Completely unnecessary, obviously, but judging by the attention we start getting almost immediately, the investment is paying off.
“Look over there,” Jake says.
There’s already a smirk on his face when he points toward a group of women farther down the line.
Subtlety has never been one of Jake’s strengths.
They’re staring at us.
Not glancing. Not accidentally looking our way.
Staring.
Before any of us can even respond, Jake raises his hand and waves them over like he’s summoning a bartender.
I laugh, half expecting them to roll their eyes at Jake’s overenthusiasm.
Instead, they come over to us.
No hesitation.
The three of them leave their place in line and walk straight toward us with the kind of confidence that makes it obvious they know exactly how much attention they’re getting.
One of them keeps her eyes locked on me the entire way.
There’s something almost predatory about it.
I should probably think about Kendra.
Instead, I realize that kind of confidence turns me on more than I ever knew.That excitement dies almost as quickly as it starts when I realize these women are only interested in two things: skipping the line and getting their first round of drinks on us.
I’ve always been good at telling when a woman is going to be a waste of time.
It’s a skill I picked up in college, back when the guys turned everything into a competition. Who could drink the most? Who could stay out the latest? Who could get laid the most times in a week?
I won that last one by a landslide.
The trick was simple. Don’t waste time chasing women who clearly aren’t interested in putting out.
Not that I’m trying to get laid tonight.
Obviously.
But I’m sure as hell not opening my wallet for some girl who plans on taking the drinks and disappearing the second something better comes along.
My boys clearly don’t share my instincts.
The second we get inside, they lead the girls straight toward the bar, and before I know it, I’m left standing alone in a sea of bodies. I’d be happy for them if I didn’t already know they’re about to waste half our night buying drinks for women who probably won’t even remember their names tomorrow.
I find an empty stool at the bar and order something from the top shelf. Sitting by myself quickly teaches me something I’ve never considered before in all that careful planning.
There is absolutely nothing to do alone in a nightclub.
The music is too loud to think. Everyone is either dancing, drinking, or trying to take someone home.
How the hell does Kendra expect me to follow her military-grade list of rules in a place like this?
Don’t drink too much?
Don’t stay out late?
Don’t talk to women?
What does she expect me to do? Pull a paperback out of my pocket and read until I bore myself to death?
One drink becomes two.
Two becomes three.
By the third, I’ve got enough liquid courage in me to stop caring that I’m alone.
I head straight for the dance floor. The bass gets heavier with every step until I can feel it vibrating through the soles of my shoes. Lights flash overhead in violent bursts of blue and red, turning everyone around me into fragments.
Faces.
Hands.
Bodies.
Nothing stays still long enough to really look at, and with all the strobe lights I couldn’t get a clear image of someone even if I tried. All I can do is dance with whoever ends up close enough.
One woman for half a song.
Another for two.
Someone else whose name I don’t even bother asking.
Nobody sober enough to bother sticking around.
Eventually, someone taps me on the shoulder. Thinking it’s another girl wanting to dance, it steals my attention faster than screaming this close to the speakers ever could.
I turn so quickly I nearly give myself whiplash. Derek is standing behind me, already visibly drunk, grinning like an idiot while holding two plastic shot glasses dangerously close to spilling.
“For you and your lady,” he slurs.
“My lady?”
That’s when it hits me.
I’ve spent half the night bouncing between strangers while Derek and the others are still entertaining the same girls they met outside.
And now he thinks I’ve been with someone this entire time. I have no intention of telling the truth. I’m not about to admit I’ve struck out on my own bachelor night.
“Where is she?” Derek asks. “She hot?”
I don’t give myself enough time to think. I just look around and grab the first woman who stands out.I don’t know the girl I chose, but she’s impossible to miss.
Everything she’s wearing is black.
Latex boots.
Latex dress.
A thick latex choker around her throat.
Fishnets disappear beneath the hem of her dress. Her makeup is dark and heavy around her eyes, and her hair looks intentionally messy, falling over part of her face.
Nothing like Kendra. Which is perfect.
She’s nothing I’d ever choose while sober.
Something sharp and a little dangerous.
Exactly what I want for my last weekend of freedom.
I reach out and pull her toward me without warning. I don’t even bother to ask for her name.
Derek immediately shoves one of the shots toward her.
“For the happy couple!”
She doesn’t take it.
The plastic shot glass slips straight past her hand.
It hits the floor, and liquor splashes all across my shoes.
Derek stares down at it for a second before bursting into laughter.
“Oh, you picked a feisty one, huh?”
I finally get a proper look at her face. She’s glaring at me with intensity.
Not annoyed.
Not embarrassed.
There’s something colder in it.
Something sharp.
Her expression could put Kendra’s worst moods to shame. I thought Kendra could slash my tires; this woman could end my whole life.
And somehow that just makes her hotter.
Really hot.
For a second, I forget all about the slip hazard between us. I forget everything. I even forget the reason I’m even here.
By the time I glance away, Derek is already wandering back toward the others.
I could follow him.
Probably should.
But showing up alone after he just saw me with this woman would make it look like I struck out completely. Since I’m not a complete idiot after a few drinks, I don’t even ask her to sit with them. Something tells me she wouldn’t follow me anyway.
She looks down at the hand I still have on her.
Then back at me.
“I noticed you make a habit out of grabbing random women.”
Her voice is icy. Even almost unnaturally calm beneath the pounding music.
And somehow it matches her stare perfectly.I can’t help laughing at first.
Then I realize she isn’t joking.
Not even a little.
Her expression hasn’t changed. If anything, she looks more irritated now that I’m laughing.
So naturally, I make it worse.
“No way. Just pretty ones with obvious red flags.”
I wink.
Nothing.
Not even the smallest twitch at the corner of her mouth.
She just stares at me like she’s trying to turn me to stone.
Fortunately, I’ve had enough to drink that rejection doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it probably should. Persistence is key, right? Besides, landing the one woman in this entire club who seems to hate me feels like the perfect way to end my last few days of freedom.
Before she can walk away, I keep my hand on her arm.
“So, you from around here?”
The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
Seriously?
That’s all I’ve got?
“Seriously?” she says. “That’s all you got?”
For half a second, I wonder if I said that out loud.
Her voice is bored. Irritated.
But she’s still standing here.
That has to count for something.
“That a yes?”
She gives me another one of those looks.
I don’t let it discourage me.
How does that saying go? What doesn’t kill you, right?
My phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket.
The distraction finally makes me let go of her arm so I can pull out my phone.
Kendra.
Of course.
Her name fills the screen while the phone continues buzzing in my hand.
I’m about to decline the call when the woman speaks.
“I do live around here, actually.”
I look up.
She finally answered me.
And something has changed.
It’s subtle, but it’s there.
The irritation in her voice has faded. Her stare is still cold, but now there’s something else behind it. Something sharper. Almost hungry. Whatever happened between her wanting nothing to do with me thirty seconds ago and seeing Kendra’s name on my phone, I can only assume is some kind of miracle.
She wants something now.
And I have no intention of ending the night without finding out what.
“Let’s go.”
That’s all she says before she turns and walks away.
No explanation.
No waiting.
For a second, I just stand there.
I only have two choices.
Follow her.
Or go back to my friends.
My phone stops ringing, and the notification sits on the screen.
1 Missed Call
I stare at it for only a second.
Then shove the phone back into my pocket.
I don’t care.
Not tonight.
I hurry after the woman.
The crowd nearly swallows her before I catch sight of the black latex again, moving effortlessly between people who are too drunk to walk straight.
She never looks back.
Doesn’t check whether I’m following.
She either doesn’t care if I come with her or she already knows I will.
I keep a few steps behind and let her lead.
I try talking along the way.
“The city’s pretty cool at night, huh?”
Nothing in response.
“You drop that shot on purpose, or was my friend too drunk to find your hand?”
Silence again.
“His aim always sucked. Ask the toilet bowl.”
Still nothing.
Which is weird to me because I actually thought that one was decent.
Whatever.
Apparently she doesn’t have a sense of humor.
We walk for longer than I expect.
The noise of the club slowly disappears behind us, replaced by sirens, horns, distant shouting, and the endless mechanical hum of Manhattan after dark. This city really does never sleep.
Eventually, she leads me into a parking garage.
That catches me off guard.
No valet is waiting inside. No attendant nearby. Just rows of cars beneath harsh fluorescent lights and thick concrete pillars stretching into shadow.
Her footsteps echo through the garage.
Mine follow.
Click.
Step.
Click.
Step.
The deeper we go, the quieter the city becomes.
She walks all the way toward the back where the lights aren’t nearly as bright.
One of them flickers overhead.
That’s where I see the van.
A large black cargo van parked alone in the darkest corner of the garage.
I stop walking.
For the first time tonight, something feels off.
I actually laugh under my breath because I assume this has to be some kind of joke.
Then the van’s lights flash.
She unlocked it.
“Oh?”
She doesn’t explain.
She walks straight around to the back and pulls open the double doors.
I hear her moving things around inside.
Something shifting around.
Probably bags or something.
Equipment, maybe?
Curiosity gets the better of me.
I walk closer.
“What, you live in this thing or something?”
No answer.
I reach the open doors and lean forward, trying to see past her into the darkness.
I barely get a look inside.
Something sharp pinches into the side of my neck.
I jerk backward.
“What the-”
My hand flies to the spot with urgency.
A sting.
That’s all it feels like at first.
Then the parking garage moves.
Not literally.
The walls seem to tilt sideways.
The lights overhead smear into long white streaks, the buzzing sound loud in my ears.
I try taking a step back and nearly fall.
My tongue suddenly feels too big for my mouth.
“What did you...”
She catches me before I hit the ground.
Strong.
Stronger than I expected.

My knees stop cooperating.
My vision narrows.
Her face is the last thing that stays clear.
That same cold expression.
Only now I understand it.
She was never flirting with me.
“Shhh,” she whispers.
My legs give out completely.
“Just don’t forget to breathe.”
I try to answer.
Nothing comes out.
Then everything goes black.
Completely black.When I finally open my eyes, I can barely see a damn thing—nothing but blurred shapes and a faint glow from above.
Everything is blurred together, and as my vision starts to focus, the only thing I can make out is a flickering ceiling light directly above me. The light flashing in and out of focus until it takes up almost my entire field of vision.
I groan and roll onto my side.
The second I move, pain shoots through my back.
“Fuck…”
My hands press against something cold and rough.
Concrete.
“The Hell?”
I force myself upright, wincing as every muscle in my back protests. I must’ve been lying there for hours.
That quickly becomes the least of my problems.
My vision slowly clears, and I can finally look around.
The room is almost like some kind of makeshift prison cell.
There are no windows.
The walls are just bare concrete.
The only way in or out is a heavy metal door with a small barred-up window near the top. Through it, I can make out what looks like a hallway, but the light outside is too dim to see much else.
There’s nothing in here.
Just a plain wooden chair sitting in the corner.
And then I take notice of the stains.
Dark red streaks across the concrete.
On the walls.
Across the floor.
Some of them look old.
Others don’t.
My stomach turns.
No.
There has to be an explanation.
Maybe it’s paint.
Maybe this is some elaborate prank.
Maybe the guys hired someone.
Maybe Kendra...
Before my brain can come up with an explanation convincing enough to calm me down, I hear something outside.
Footsteps.
Those footsteps.
Except this time, in the complete silence, they just seem to echo louder and louder.
Click.
Step.
Click.
Step.
Getting closer.
Click.
Step.
Click.
Step.
Then that heavy door opens loudly, like it has no concern for quiet.
My stomach completely drops.
She walks inside wearing the same black latex from the club, but something is different now.
A mask covers part of her face.
Some kind of makeshift gas mask, hiding her mouth while leaving her eyes completely visible. A black latex strap going up between her forehead to keep it all together.
Those same cold eyes.
Back at the club, I mistook that look for hunger.
Now?
It looks almost predatory.
For the first time, the possibility enters my mind that I might be the prey.Then I realize that sounds absolutely ridiculous; that doesn't just happen to ordinary people. This is probably a stupid prank gone too far or a loyalty test because of Kendra's trust issues.
I force out a sarcastic laugh.
“Haha. Very funny.”
She offers nothing back in response.
I swallow hard as I search for more courage, but that booze from earlier is well out of my system by now.
“Is this… did Kendra put you up to this?”
Nothing again.
She just watches me in a way I can only imagine is meant to scare me.That silence confirms to me that I was right, and Kendra really outdid herself this time. I knew she could be crazy when she wanted to be, but this?
This is insane.
“Alright, I get it.” I spread my hands. Palms open in surrender. “You can bring the camera crew out now. You caught me. Bravo.”
Silence.
Then she laughs.
The sound makes every hair on my arms stand up, even though I physically can't.
The mask distorts her voice, making the laugh muffled and metallic. Almost artificial and yet not like a machine.
Something worse.
Like something trying to imitate the way a person is supposed to sound and getting it ever so slightly wrong.
I know she isn’t laughing because I’m funny.
That ship sailed ages ago.This time she’s laughing at me like I’m the joke.
This realization makes my stomach twist.
“I am not someone who can be hired.”
Hearing that makes any ounce of humor leave my face.
I look down at my now-shaking hands when I finally notice hers.
One of them, at least.
Four long blades extending from her fingers where her nails should be.
Thin. Sharp. Like scissors split in 2.
Metal catches the flickering light whenever she even slightly moves to balance the weight of the claws.
In her other hand is something else. At first, I can’t really tell what it is.
Then she lifts it. She wants me to see it. Wants me to notice it and examine it.
A wire muzzle. The kind you put on a dog.
“What the hell is-”
She moves before I finish.
Her hand tangles into my hair and jerks my head backward with a large amount of force.
One of the blades scratches along the side of my head, and I immediately feel something warm trickle behind my ear.
Blood.
That's when every muscle in my body locks and tightens.
I know better than to move right now. Those things are real. Sharp enough that she barely touched me and still broke skin. If I move now, I don't even want to think about that slicing open my neck.
She takes complete advantage of my stillness.
The muzzle comes down over my mouth. Metal cold against my nose and cheeks. Feeling like sensory overload.
“What the fuck are you-”
She yanks the straps tight behind my head with not even an attempt at being gentle about it.
The wire digs in painfully. Her bladed fingers scrape the back of my neck while she secures it, leaving little burning cuts wherever they touch.
This isn’t some prop.
This isn’t a prank.
And if Kendra has any part in this, she belongs in a mental institution.
My breathing gets faster.
The cage feels tighter with every breath.
She steps back.
I know she can see the fear on my face.
So naturally, I get angry.
“What?” I snap through the muzzle. “Am I a fucking dog?”
Her eyes narrow slightly.
“You did follow me like one across half the city.”
There’s amusement in her voice now.
That scares me more than the silence did.
I’m not sure what this is.
I don’t know who she is.
Hell, I didn't even ask her for her damn name.
I don’t know what kind of sick game I’ve walked right into.
I just want out.
She reaches to her belt with her non-bladed hand and pulls out a small remote.
She holds it where I can see it and waves it slowly—taunting me like I'm a dog and she has a toy she wants me to fetch.
My vision still isn’t completely focused, so I can’t make out the buttons even if I tried.
“If you scream,” she says, “I push a button.”
There isn’t a trace of emotion behind the words.
My heart pounds harder.
“What does-”
She presses it, and pain instantly explodes across my face.
My entire body jerks back as I cry out and instinctively grab the cage.
Then I feel another shock tear through my hands and face.
I rip my hands away immediately.
“No touching.”
Her voice is flat.
A command.
I stare at her with pure panic in my eyes.
For once, I don’t have anything smart to say.
“If you want to go home, the answer is simple.”
My heart almost stops in an instant when I think about it.Home.
I stare at her, desperately waiting for that golden answer.
My eyes follow every step as she turns toward the door and opens it just slightly.
Seconds drag by as she pauses with one foot already in the hallway.
I want to ask, but she's left me completely speechless.
That's when she looks back with those predatory eyes once more.
“Don’t forget to breathe.”
A low chuckle slips through the mask as she steps outside the room.
The metal door slams shut behind her, making me jump.
That’s it?
No instructions or explanation.
Nothing except to just breathe?
I hold my chest as it rises and falls.
Breathing is easy.
I can do that.I can even breathe in my sleep.
I take a deep breath.
Then another.
In.
Out.
In-
A hiss cuts through the room as smoke begins pouring through vents near the ceiling.
A thick cloud spreads across the room so quickly I barely have time to understand what I’m looking at.
I clamp my mouth shut mid-breath, but it's too late. I was already halfway through inhaling when it started.
I cough violently against the metal cage as smoke enters my lungs. Within seconds, I can barely see the door anymore. The smoke only gets thicker, showing no sign of clearing.It was at that moment that the distorted voice began to play on an overhead speaker like some fucked up announcement.Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I press myself against the wall, fighting every instinct in my body. I feel something wet against my back, but I'm unable to see it even if I tried.
I try not to breathe it in until I remember what she said.
Don’t forget to breathe.
My chest tightens.
I can’t hold it forever.
Eventually, my body chooses for me. Wanting desperately to survive, even though this smoke is obviously something wrong.I gasp for air.
Instead of oxygen, my lungs fill with smoke.
I hit the floor hard.
My shoulder slams against the concrete, but the pain barely registers. Something warm pools beneath the side of my head in an almost sickening contrast to the freezing floor beneath me.
Blood. It has to be blood.
I cough so violently that my entire body convulses. I desperately try to expel whatever I’ve just inhaled. It doesn’t help. Nothing can help when the smoke is everywhere.
Every breath pulls more of it inside me, but I can’t stop breathing.
Not if I want to go home.
Not if I want to get out of here alive.
I repeat that to myself while my eyelids grow heavier.
Breathe in.
That overhead voice repeats.
My heart races, adrenaline fighting whatever the hell is inside this smoke.
Breathe out.
I dig my fingers against the concrete, trying with all my strength to keep myself awake.
Breathe in.
But I quickly realize it’s a battle I’m not going to win.
Not even close.
My arms give out beneath me.
The floor disappears.
And once again, everything goes black.When I open my eyes, I’m staring at my bedroom ceiling.
For several seconds, I don’t move.
I don’t even breathe, ironically enough.
Then I shoot upright.
My room.
This is my fucking room.
Morning light filters through the curtains. My clothes for the bachelor trip are laid neatly across the chair beside Kendra’s vanity, exactly where I left them. I stare at them before looking down at my hands. I run my palms over myself like I need physical proof that I’m actually here.
“No fucking way…”
I pinch my arm. Hard. It hurts. It actually fucking hurts.
A laugh escapes me, not with humor but with disbelief and relief mixed together.
“Oh, thank God.”
It was a dream.
The club.
That woman.
The van.
The cell.
The smoke.
The fucking scissorhand.
All of it.
Just some insanely vivid nightmare.
I throw the blankets off and practically fall out of bed.
“Kendra?”
My voice cracks, but I don't care. Not right now.
I rush into the hallway.
“Kendra!”
I move through the house like a man possessed, nearly slamming into the wall as I turn the corner toward the stairs.
“Kendra!”
I stumble down them two at a time.I go into the kitchen. She's not there, but our matching coffee mugs are where they always are. Our photos together still hanging on for dear life by some flimsy fridge magnets.I go back into the hallway where the pictures of us through the years hang neatly. Kendra was always great at that home decorating stuff. She always made sure to keep things tidy and straight, even when I gave her shit for it. On a hallway table sat our wedding invitation—the photo of us on the front from that engagement photoshoot she made us go to. I remember complaining the whole way there. Seeing it now, I’ve never felt more relief.One week, just one more week.
Then I see her.
She’s sitting on the couch in the living room.
Alive.
Safe.
Real.
She turns toward me with an expression that says I’ve completely lost my mind.
I don’t care.
Before she can say anything, I cross the room and fall to my knees in front of her.
My hands grab her thighs, holding onto her like she might disappear if I let go. The feeling of her skin beneath my palms nearly makes me cry after that absolute nightmare that has me shaken to my core.
“Kendra, baby, I’m so sorry.”
She doesn’t respond, but I keep going anyway.
“You were right. Okay? You were fucking right. No drinking. No women. Nothing. I’ll cancel the whole trip.”
My hands are shaking uncontrollably.
“I don’t even want to go anymore. I love you, baby. I love you. I’m sorry.”
Then I hear her.
“Evan?”
I freeze.
My eyes lift toward her face.
Her mouth hasn’t moved.
“Evan? You there? Hello?”
My stomach drops.
The voice is Kendra’s.
But it isn’t coming from Kendra.
It sounds distant.
Muffled.
Distorted.
Like I’m hearing her through a phone speaker.
“Kendra?”
The woman sitting in front of me doesn’t react.
“Evan, if this is a joke, it isn’t funny-”
The voice cuts out completely.
Silence.
I stare at Kendra, or what I thought was Kendra.
Her lips haven’t moved once.
Not once that entire time.
“No…”
She raises her hand toward my face.
My body locks.
For one desperate second, I convince myself she’s going to touch my cheek and tell me I’m losing my mind. That everything is okay.
Her fingers inch closer and closer. Then I realize something about them looks wrong.
I scream as pain detonates across my face. The muzzle shocks me so violently my head snaps backward. At the same instant, something sharp tears across the side of my face.
I collapse, and my hand flies toward my eye.
Wet.
Hot.
Something wet runs between my fingers.
“What the FUCK?”
Then I hear it.
A wet dripping sound.
Metal scraping against metal.
Slow.
Deliberate.
My entire body turns cold.
A drop hits the concrete.
Then another.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
I try pushing myself upright, but a soaked boot slams into my stomach.
My breath leaves me instantly, causing me to curl forward, gagging.
Everything spins.
I’m nauseous.
Freezing.
Weak.
My heart is hammering so violently that I can feel every beat inside my skull.
Slowly, the room changes.
The couch disappears.
Kendra disappears.
Concrete replaces everything.
The flickering light returns.
And sitting several feet in front of me is a black chair that I can barely make out.
Someone is sitting in it.
The woman from the club.
The woman from the van.
The woman from the cell.
Her.
Not Kendra.
Never Kendra.
Her mask still covers the lower half of her face, but her eyes tell me everything.
She’s amused, like this is some sick game to her.
She’s been sitting there the entire time, watching me crawl around on the floor, begging a woman who isn’t even here to forgive me.
Blood drips from the blades extending from her hand.
A dark puddle has already formed beneath her chair.
“I let you go home.”
That distorted voice echoes through the room.
Her head tilts like a cruel monster feeling awfully playful.
“Aren’t I sweet?”
She laughs.
That horrible metallic sound bounces between the concrete walls.
I can’t answer.
I can barely breathe.
That was “home”.
The bedroom.
Kendra.
The pictures.
The invitation.
All of it.
That was her idea of letting me go home.
She never promised she’d actually release me. She only told me if I kept breathing, I'd go home.
The realization destroys whatever hope I have left.
I did everything she wanted.
I breathed.
I choked down that smoke because I thought surviving it would get me out. I fought to stay alive for nothing. Absolutely nothing.
My strength continues draining away.
My vision starts narrowing again. The edges darken slowly. I think maybe passing out would be better. Maybe this time I won’t wake up.
Then she stands.
My remaining eye follows her.
Click.
Step.
Squelch.
Click.
Step.Squelch.
She stops over me. There’s something almost intimate about the way she looks down, like she wants to make sure I’m still conscious. Then her hand rises toward the mask.
Slowly, she removes it.
I quickly wish she hadn’t.
My heart surges and whatever weakness had begun pulling me under disappears beneath one final rush of terror.
Her mouth is wrong. Completely fucking wrong.
Too wide.
Too many teeth.
Rows of sharp points fill something that only vaguely resembles a human mouth.
For one insane second, my brain tries to make sense of it.
Fake teeth.
Prosthetics.
Another hallucination.
Anything.
Then her lips pull farther apart.
The teeth move.
It’s all real.
That makes my stomach twist, thinking back to that hunger.
Before, I thought I misunderstood it.
I didn’t.
I just misunderstood what she was hungry for.

She wasn’t looking at me like she wanted to sleep with me.
She was looking at me like food.
And I followed her willingly.
Across half the fucking city.
Straight into her van.
Straight into this room.
Straight onto her dinner plate.
She gives me several seconds to understand that. Like maybe she wants me to. I wonder if that’s part of whatever game this is. If she's some sick fuck who likes to play with her food.
Then she crouches beside me. Up close, her face is even worse. Those teeth look capable of tearing through anything they touch.
Her bladed hand settles against my chest.
I stop moving.
I stop fighting.
She leans close enough that I can feel her breath.
“Don’t forget to breathe.”
Without the mask, her voice is worse.
Deep.
Broken.
Almost layered beneath itself, as though something else is speaking alongside her. Something that was never human to begin with.
Then pain drives through my chest.
I choke.
My body instinctively tries to drag in another breath, but nothing comes. My hands claw uselessly against the concrete as the blades begin cutting downward.
I try to scream, but nothing useful comes out.
She watches me struggle.
Patiently.
Hungrily.
And as the darkness begins closing around me for the third time tonight, her hand reaches toward my chest.
Toward my heart.

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