Loud rock music booms through my head, occasionally making me flinch when the bass player goes a little too hard on the stage composed of wood pallets. I hadn’t expected a live band to be performing at this party, and I can’t decide if I love it or hate it. My hangover screams with each beat, but the gothic side of me adores some good rock. Without being able to hear much other than the music, there isn’t a whole lot of talking that needs to be done, and that makes it easier to consume alcohol at a faster rate.
Tonight, I’m drinking to cure my hangover. Tomorrow, I’ll deal with the ultimate hangover, but that’s in the back of my mind for now. We’re here to enjoy ourselves and celebrate my favorite holiday: Halloween.
A bonfire blazes in the center of the cornfield, and party goers are mingling everywhere. Most of us have a drink or two in our hands, hand-crafted by the mobile bar set up by one of the caterers in town. On the far side of the field is the pumpkin patch, but there’s no light out there and no one has migrated out there yet.
That eerie feeling creeps up my spine once more, prompting me to down the pomegranate cocktail in my hand. I close my eyes as I guzzle it, allowing the full effect of my buzz to set in. I don’t know why I can’t shake this feeling.
Halloween is full of gore, terror, and fucked up shit, but this feels different. I feel like I’m being watched again, but I can’t see anyone watching when I scan the field around me. It’s too dark to see beyond the first few rows of corn, which isn’t ideal when I’m looking for potential threats.
“Stand in front of me,” I suddenly snap at Sloan when Jonah comes into view. “Jonah’s here.”
Without hesitation, my best friend does as she’s asked, blocking me from Jonah’s view. “How’s this?” she asks.
“Good,” I nod. “He’s wearing the same costume he wore last night.”
Sloan scoffs, laughing louder than she intends to, but the alcohol is beginning to talk for her. “He couldn’t find time to buy a different mask? Wasn’t there a shop set up outside Rustic Roast? He’s the laziest piece of shit I’ve ever met.”
She’s being slightly dramatic, but I don’t blame her considering what has transpired and been revealed in the last twenty-four hours. She’s pissed off at him and wants him away from me just as much as I do.
“We need more drinks,” I suggest as I notice both of our cups are now empty.
Sloan’s face lights up at the mention of more alcohol. “We’ll get more drinks, then we’ll look around for new potential fuck buddies.”
“Thanks,” I smile. “I’m really done with him this time. I didn’t deserve to be dunked in the tank last night.” As an afterthought, I add, “And his dick is too small anyway.”
“I was always worried about that after you showed me one of the dick pics he sent you in high school. Who would take a picture of that and voluntarily show it to anyone else?”
“Someone who delusionally thinks they’re bigger than they are, or has convinced themselves it’s not how big it is, but how they use it.”
She bursts out into a cackle, stumbling as we walk toward the bar. “You’re probably right.”
Sloan remains by my side for the next couple of hours, never wandering and always keeping a sharp lookout for Jonah, or as sharp as she can be in our intoxicated state. We’ve already had too much to drink, so we’re trying to slow down. We’ve been standing in a circle of people we went to high school with, chatting about the good ole days and reminiscing on some of the stupid shit we used to do.
I suddenly feel an urgent need to pee, but Sloan is so deep into her story telling I don’t want to cut her off to announce to the group I need to pee, so I silently step back, exiting the circle without interrupting anyone.
Quickly finding the porta potties, I’m irritated when I see they’re not only all occupied, but there’s a line a mile long to get into them. There’s no way I can wait that long, so I decide I’ll sneak off into the corn to pee. No one will notice me and I’ll be back in a fraction of the time.
Glancing around before stepping into the corn for privacy, I make sure no one sees me. The coast is clear, so I disappear into the thick rows of dried corn stocks, desperate to relieve my bladder.
Pin point prickles pimple goosebumps along my forearms as I walk deeper and deeper into the corn. I can’t pee within the first few rows because it’s too risky, so I keep going against my better judgment. About fifty feet back I decide I’m far enough away. The voices of party goers fade, and all I can hear is the boom of the live band playing.
I pull up my skirt, squatting over a dried mound of dirt as I let a steady stream of urine flow from my body. My eyes roll back with delight as I find instant relief. The sound of mud being made by my pee is interrupted by the steady crunching of boots on brittle dirt.
“Who’s there?” I yell into the night, pinching off my stream as I look around. “I’m peeing! Don’t come over here!”
My warning is ignored, and the crunching escalates, growing louder by the second.
I squint, straining to see through the darkness surrounding me. The outline of a man comes into view, and my vision adjusts slightly as he comes closer. That’s when I see the pumpkin mask and realize it’s Jonah.
Annoyed he followed me into the corn and had the audacity to sneak up on me mid-pee, I snap at him, “Get the fuck away from me.”
He says nothing as he stands roughly ten feet away, barely visible in the shadows.
“If you don’t leave me the fuck alone, I’m going to let Sloan tell the entire town about how small your dick is.”
Still, nothing. He’s hovering in place, watching me intently behind the mask.
He’s acting weird. Really fucking weird, so I keep my verbal assaults coming. “If you could last more than two seconds maybe we would have had more of a chance, but you couldn’t, and you never cared about my needs.”
Again, nothing.
“Selfish bastard,” I mumble under my breath, rising from my squat.
I adjust my skirt back into place, then turn my attention back to Jonah. He’s just watching me, being a fucking creep. Pissed off, drunk, and unamused, I stalk toward him with clenched fists, only to be stopped after a few steps.
My heart stops as my breath hitches in the back of my throat.
I was wrong. It’s not Jonah.
Whoever this is, is much larger than Jonah, both in height and muscularity. But, why is he wearing Jonah’s costume?
A heavy ball forms in the pit of my stomach, sending that anxious feeling rattling through me. My gut is telling me that something is wrong. Very wrong, and I need to get out of here.
“Who are you?” I ask, stalling as I think of a way to get back to the party, back into the public eye, where there are witnesses if this creep tries to kill me.
The man wearing the pumpkin mask chuckles. His laugh is deep, haunting me to my core as he releases it. Waves of chills roll down my spine, and I break out into a cold sweat.
His voice comes smooth and firm, perhaps even sexy in the most wrong of ways. “Run, little nightmare.”
