“It’s cold here,” I complain, whispering low as staff members roam throughout the house, finishing setting up. The big stuff is easy, it’s all the small props that become tedious. Picture frames lining the walls, putting fresh linen on the beds. The dozens of mannequins and the rest of the props. I imagine it’s tiring.
Good thing Satan’s Affair hires a crew in every location to help set up the houses. We’re only given a small window of time to settle in the new location and start building before the fair opens. It’s fast-paced and can be a little overwhelming with the amount of people that come through.
I always hated waiting for them to put up the walls before I could sneak inside them. I have to wait outside until they’re done, keeping away from wandering eyes.
Jackal sits beside me, observing me while I observe the small world outside my walls. Sometimes, I wish I could join them. But it’s safer that I stay behind the walls. The less they know about me, the easier my job.
Something tells me they wouldn’t be so accepting of me if they knew I’d prefer to lurk behind the walls. That makes people uncomfortable—knowing someone can see you when you can’t see them. Personally, I wouldn’t mind.
A rush of heat slides through my body when I think about one of my henchmen behind the walls, watching me execute a demon. Watching me paint myself in their blood and then touch myself. Maybe next time, we’ll try that.
I love my henchmen. But I get lonely, still. I see friendships like Jennifer’s and Sarah’s—fake as it was—and feel a bit of jealousy. What would my life be like if I had someone to spend time with? Do girl things with when I want to get away from men.
Would they be accepting of my mission? Possibly even lure them in? It wouldn’t hurt to have another woman on the outside, to lure all the evil men in. Not that all evil people are men, but the majority that come through my house happen to be.
I sigh. Jennifer and Sarah are gone now. With Satan’s Affair travelling all around the country, they hire a set of people in each location. Cheaper, they say. A lot of the employees return every year, though, providing me with familiar faces. They get paid good money, I’ve heard, and working at Satan’s Affair is an honorable position.
I shiver again, a draft wafting in from the open front door. My costume doesn’t provide much warmth, and they’re going in and out so often that I can’t warm up.
“Want me to warm you up?” Jackal asks. I glance over, seeing him rub his hard dick beneath his trousers. I bite my lip, contemplating.
My men are hard to resist. How could I say no? But… I really should keep an eye on things…
“Guests won’t arrive for another twenty minutes,” Jackal reminds, seeming to sense that I need convincing. He knows I’m a control freak.
“It’s so hard to be quiet though,” I argue lightly.
Nothing’s happening out there. Nothing important, anyway.
“Get over here, Sibby. Right now.”
I squeeze my thighs, my pussy throbbing in response to his sharp command. With a resigned sigh, I pull away from the wall and walk over to Jackal. He stands before I can sit on his lap and signals me to sit on the chair instead.
Just last night, Gary was sitting on this chair, petrified and knowing his life was precariously close to ending. The reminder causes the juncture between my thighs to grow slick.
Ugly as he was, the fear on his face was just so… cute.
“Spread your legs,” he commands softly, bringing me back to the present.
Tentatively, I open my legs wide for him, baring my pussy. My breath is short, and my cunt throbs beneath his ravenous stare, already anticipating what he’s going to do to me. How good he’s going to make me feel.
“You have to be quiet,” Jackal reminds, dropping to his knees. His swipes his nose through my slit, inhaling as he goes. Fake blood drips from his wide mouth, and the sight reminds me of when I was covered in Gary’s blood while he fucked me from behind.
“You smell so good,” he groans. I feel a blush creep into my cheeks. A nervous giggle escapes as I shift beneath him. Jackal has always been the most intimidating out of the bunch, even more so than Cronus. Something about the way he walks and talks, the way he carries himself, makes people feel like he’s a walking weapon. Quick to strike and capable of killing you in a matter of seconds. I can’t lie and say he doesn’t intimidate me a little, too.
Hot breath fans across my sensitive flesh, causing goosebumps to rise on my flesh.
“Jackal,” I whisper harshly, growing impatient. Yellow eyes peek up at me, a devious smile on his handsome face. Blood spreads across my pussy, but he pays it no mind. We both love it when I’m soaked with blood.
My heart races and I shiver beneath his stare.
I can’t help it when he’s looking up at me like that—like a God coming home from a bloody, brutal war and finding his wife waiting for him in bed. All my men are handsome, despite the grotesque make up, and Mortis’s and Baine’s lanky statures. But it’s one of the reasons the fair lets them travel along. They draw people in as much as they chase them away.
Like a snake, his tongue slithers out, licking me once before the delicious muscle disappears back into his mouth. I shudder, nearly jumping when his tongue snakes back out again. Right as I open my mouth to berate him again, he closes his mouth over my clit.
My eyes roll, and my mouth opens. It takes strength I didn’t know I possessed to keep my moan from bursting out of me. Sensing my turmoil, Jackal narrows his eyes.
“I’ll stop if you make a noise,” he threatens, the words hummed around my sensitive nerves. I jerk beneath his touch when he flicks out his tongue once more.
Choppily, I nod my head. My straight teeth sink into my bottom lip, trapping it in my mouth and sucking in harshly.
Jackal laps at my cunt slowly, languidly. Happily. As if he’s eating an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Every stroke has my eyes fluttering and my thighs shaking.
When he hits a particularly pleasurable point, a soft moan escapes. His big eyes snap to me, freezing me in place. Again, I bite my lip, hoping he won’t stop because of my slipup.
As if conjured out of thin air, Timothy walks in the alcove. When he sees what we’re doing, a wide smile stretches across his clown face, showing off his sharp teeth.
“Sibby isn’t being quiet,” Jackal says, tattling on me. I open my mouth to protest, but Timothy stalks over to me and I’m distracted by the way his muscles move beneath his skin.
“I’ll keep her quiet,” Timothy answers, his voice low and his smile ominous. My wide eyes watch him prowl towards me, but I lose sight of him when he disappears behind me. When I start to turn, Jackal’s mouth latches onto my pussy, sucking in deeply.
I gasp, my head whipping back towards him as a turmoil of pleasure rolls through me. My lids fall, and Timothy is almost forgotten. Until I feel the heat of his presence press in close behind me. His thick cock is hard and pressing between my shoulder blades. He rolls his hips once, enough to show me what I do to him.
Just as another soft moan starts to escape, Timothy’s hand snaps to my neck and brings my head flush to his hard stomach. In this position, I can see the entirety of Timothy’s clown face as he stares down at me, an excited gleam in his bright blue eyes. Most would find a clown looking down at them scary, but not Timothy. He’s too fucking beautiful to look at.
His hand flexes around my throat, constricting my airways until just a morsel of oxygen is able to leak through.
And with a vengeance, Jackal eats me alive. Biting and licking every inch of my pussy. My chest heaves, and I want to scream from the onslaught, but I can’t breathe. I feel my face reddening and my eyes rolling from the mixture of Jackal’s sharp tongue and Timothy’s unyielding hand.
My stomach tightens as pleasure builds. Stars explode in the back of my eyes as he focuses on my clit—right where I need him. His tongue roves over the bundle of nerves, ecstasy building from the little point his tongue is probing. His hands grab the underside of my thighs and lift, pushing my knees to my chest.
A strangled noise escapes through the vise-like grip on my throat, the new angle wringing out more pleasure. He continues to lick and suck, as his long, textured fingers trail over my opening. The burns on his flesh feel so real, and I love the way it feels inside of me.
I suck in the little breath I can, my legs shaking. Before I can prepare, his fingers are plunging inside me. My mouth opens on a silent scream and my back arches.
I can hardly keep my eyes from rolling, but I do glimpse Timothy’s face. He’s licking his lips, his gaze hungry and desperate. His other hand trails over my shoulder and down to cup my breast in his large hand. My nipples are nearly cutting holes through my nightgown. He plucks one between his fingers, strumming my nipple and sending shockwaves straight to my pussy.
Another flex of Timothy’s hand, warning me to keep quiet. He could sense the groan building in my throat, beneath his hand. Timothy continues to tweak my nipple, squeezing hard until the pain is blinding, and then releasing and allowing Jackal’s tongue to steal away the pain.
I can’t take it anymore. The coil snaps and my world detonates. Timothy times it perfectly, releasing my throat so the blood releases from my head, causing delirium as I ride the waves. He slaps a hand over my mouth before I can make a peep, though I’m nearly screaming beneath his hand.
I’m breathless as wave after wave of my orgasm rolls through me. I can no longer see, but I can feel my body grinding against Jackal’s wide tongue with choppy, desperate movements.
This is the closest I’ll ever get to heaven while my soul is trapped in this body.
Slowly, the pleasure fades and when I look down, Jackal is staring up at me with a satisfied smile, my juices covering his burnt face and dripping from his chin.
“Fair is opening soon. Get ready,” he orders, his voice strained with hunger.
He stands, prepared to let my juices dry on his face, and walks away, disappearing into the darkness of the hallways.
Following his lead, Timothy walks away, too. But not before turning and winking at me, a victorious smile on his face. I smile in response. Timothy’s excitement is always the cutest. He loves seeing me happy and satisfied.
When they’re gone, I feel a tad empty again. But I understand. They have to go outside and scare all the guests, chasing them around as they desperately clutch onto their corndogs and cotton candy.
I frown, remembering my muddy cotton candy from yesterday.
That’s okay, I’ll just steal some more.
Chest still tight, I close my shaky legs and just breathe for a moment. Thinking back, I don’t think I made much noise beneath Timothy’s hand. Nothing that would’ve overpowered the banging and loud talking going on outside the walls as the staff finishes setting up.
My house is beginning to quieten, and replacing the loud orders being shouted, is the spooky music that plays on repeat. I’ve started hearing this music in my sleep now. I’ve long grown irritated by the sounds, but it’s a small price to pay.
Over the next couple hours, loud screeching from outside fills the air. Greasy food begins to waft in, past the smell of plastic and expensive costume makeup.
My stomach growls, and it’s as good as time as any to go outside, eat, and scope out the area.
There’s no way to be certain that anyone running a pedophile ring would come here. But I understand why Baine thinks they might.
A haunted fair with thousands of children running amuck. Thousands of young girls in revealing clothing, away from their parents and getting into mischief. It’s a prime location for someone to snatch up their next victim. With how crowded this fair becomes, it would be nearly impossible to find them once they go missing.
Especially at night, when the monsters come out to play, and groups of friends are scattering like ants and away from each other as they run from their pursuers.
I wait until the coast is clear before crawling out of my hole and hurrying out of the house. An onslaught of shivers consume my body, the chill air harsh against my skin. But when I look up, the shivers fade and my feet slow, my body coming to a stop as I take in the scene before me.
Hordes of people everywhere, laughing and giggling. Eating their weight in food. Screams of laughter as the thrill rides take people hundreds of feet in the air before plunging them back down again. Over and over, in dizzying circles and at a breakneck speed.
When I first started here, I made it a point to steal some tickets and get on every single ride. It was the first and only time I ever rode on roller coasters. It was freeing and exciting, being so high up in the air. Suspended hundreds of feet in the sky, in that small moment in time, was the only time in my life where I felt like Daddy couldn’t get me.
I reveled in that feeling the entire night. Especially because I knew it was the last time I’d allow myself that pleasure again.
Like a true believer, I’m devoted to my mission. My time spent on the fairgrounds are restricted to luring demons to my dollhouse and eating—though I’d give that up if my body would allow it.
So, I just watch the guests enjoy the rides. The sound of their thrilled screams and happy laughter always brings me such joy.
Even though it’s really cold here in Washington.
Satan’s Affair is absolutely incredible. Despite the sun not having completely sunk in the horizon, mosaics of blues, pinks, reds, purples and greens flash in big bulbs alongside every single ride and building in sight. Clouds of colorful smoke drift throughout the night sky from the smoke machines placed throughout the grounds, the colors morphing into new shades from the multicolored lights.
It’s just so pretty.
Monsters are painted on the food trucks, the scary beings holding up platters of burgers and fries or holding a lemonade. Some of the monsters are depicted as eating the food—elephant ears, hot dogs and deep-fried Oreos posed at their mouths, sharp teeth poking beneath their lips.
My stomach grumbles and I remember myself.
The haunted houses won’t open until night falls. So not for another couple hours. The fair doesn’t let people in until about five o’clock, allowing them enough time to ride rides and eat before they’re drawn into the scary houses.
I skip down the steps and follow my nose to the first food truck I see. They’re offering hot fries and philly cheesesteaks. My mouth waters at the smell of salty fried goodness, sizzling meat and a surplus of spices.
The problem with hiding in the walls—I don’t get paid for my work. Another small price to pay, but it does force my hand when I need to eat.
A woman walks by with her rowdy young teenagers, pushing a stroller with a sleeping baby inside. I smile, the little cherub’s cheeks pink from the chill. The baby is nestled deeply into blankets and a fuzzy jumper. Her long lashes span across her cheeks as she sleeps peacefully, despite the loud screams and chatter surrounding her.
Oh, how I wish to be that innocent and unaware of the depraved world around me again.
“See this little girl, Sibby? She’s devoted to God and wants to drink the nectar for herself.”
I shake my head harshly, squeezing my eyes shut against the unwanted memories. That twelve-year-old girl birthed some more of Daddy’s babies within the next year. She died from complications in childbirth at fifteen years old, her third child—my sibling—a stillborn that dragged its mother’s life away with it.
I think that was the nicest thing anyone could have ever done for her. That baby offered her escape, and she took it gladly.
Gritting my teeth, I force myself to focus back on the innocent babe. I would love to go say hi, but babies don’t like my face. It’s not my fault though, this isn’t the type of place for a baby, but I understand some mothers don’t have a choice.
I let her walk by, noting the wallet sticking out of her stroller.
I won’t steal from a single mother. She looks exhausted already, though a small smile is on her face as she follows her teenagers around, happy because her kids are happy.
A middle-aged man walks by with an angry kid stomping through the grass next to him. The father is yelling at the kid, calling him names as he berates him for running off with his friends. He’s a strict father, by the sounds of it. And this kid just wanted to have fun with his friends.
His wallet sticks out of his back pocket as he trudges along, heading towards the exit. His hand is wrapped firmly around the kid’s bicep, keeping the kid from running off again. So many times, I remember Daddy holding me the same way. Usually when I ate without praying first and he’d have to force me into the bedroom, keeping me from eating the food.
My siblings would watch on, misery shining in their deadened eyes. They never fought Daddy like I did. They didn’t disobey him when his punishment always resulted in scars.
Before my eyes, I see the angry father morph into Daddy, and the kid turns into a younger version of myself. I prance up behind Daddy, light on my feet.
It’s too easy. The wallet slips from his back pocket, too focused on embarrassing his poor child. I scamper away, but not before the child spots me. It takes a moment to stop seeing myself—until my red face turns into the little boy’s again, brown eyes wide with tears of anger and embarrassment. When he sees my hand, a small smile lifts on his face and he deliberately turns away.
It’s entirely possible he might be punished for his father’s missing wallet. I can picture it now. A meaty finger pointed in the child’s face as he yells with rage, If you didn’t go to that stupid fair, my wallet wouldn’t be lost!
Momentarily, I feel awful. The father’s soul isn’t rotten and evil, though. He’s a strict father, but he loves his kid. That I can tell by the worry etched into the corners of his eyes as he walks away. His soul smells of a bonfire. Smoky, but not rotten.
He just doesn’t know how to love the right way. But he’ll learn one day, when he pushes his son too far away and learns to regret his actions.
Turning away, I order and pay for my philly cheesesteak with the man’s credit card, along with a massive lemonade that my tiny hands have trouble holding onto. I’ll toss the card when I’m finished and pocket the cash. There are no cameras in a place like this—no one will be able to trace who exactly used the card. By the time they try, Satan’s Affair will be gone.
I park my butt on a bench and watch people pass by as I eat. It’s not until I’m sucking down the last of my lemonade that I smell a hint of rot.
Closing my eyes, I lift my chin in the air and try to pinpoint where exactly the smell is coming from. Minutes tick by, and the smell increasingly becomes stronger. Whoever they are, they’re coming closer to me.
I open my eyes and focus on each individual. The ones that pass me by, and the ones far off in the background unaware of me. No one escapes my judgment.
A few more minutes go by before the smell of rot is so overwhelming, I nearly upchuck the delicious phillysteak I just ate. The food settles like rocks in my stomach as my gaze desperately seeks out the source of corruption.
There.
An older man, with white hair on the sides of his head and an ugly combover. He’s wearing a suit that’s tailored to his body perfectly. I would bet fresh cotton candy that his cufflinks are more expensive than his life is worth. Wrapped around his wrist is a gold Rolex. And on that Rolex, barely noticeable, is a small drop of blood.
My eyes narrow into thin slits. He sits down on the bench one over from me. Next to him must be his wife. She looks frail and timid. With freshly dyed red hair, and lipstick to match. Her face is covered in powder, but she didn’t bother to extend that make up to hide the bruise on her collarbone.
Maybe she wants others to see. A subtle cry for help.
I turn to blatantly stare at him. My face is blank as I watch the abusive prick sit next to his wife, pointing at random things to attempt to bring a smile to her face. She acquiesces, but the smile is brittle and cracking at the seams. She’s dead in the eyes.
Just like her husband will be if I manage to get him inside my house.
Feeling my stare burning into him, he twists his head until his gaze clashes with mine. I suck in a sharp breath, taken aback by the utter emptiness staring back at me. I’ve come across a lot of evil, rotten souls in my time. Souls I’m certain are burning in the depths of Hell.
But this man… this man’s soul was forged in Hell. This… thing was never human. Not in this lifetime.
A smile cocks on his saggy cheeks. He likes my attention. I may look like a demented, broken little doll, but underneath the makeup is a young girl. I think I’m in my twenties, but with the amount of makeup layered on my face, I could easily pass for sixteen.
Sick, sick man.
I smile at him, showing him my pretty smile. Mortis always says I have the smile of an angel. Demons love angels. They always want what they can never have. They love to taint what’s pure. Like picking up a white bunny with hands covered in blood. Angels are used and discarded to the side when they’ve served their purpose.
Just like Lucifer with Eve. She didn’t eat an apple. Lucifer fucked her and ruined her for all men. And then tossed her aside because she could never be Lilith.
The evil man responds in kind, his smile widening so big—even his wife takes notice. She glances at me, her gaze drifting away before snapping back to me, now wide with fear. Her rounded eyes bounce between me and her husband. She’s watching her husband prey on another woman, and instead of her burning up with jealously, she fears for me instead.
My dollhouse is only about a hundred feet away—well within sight. I stand up from the bench, offer him a wink and then walk back towards my house. His eyes never waver, I can feel them. Watching me walk into my dollhouse, where he thinks he will find me, drag me off into a dark corner and fuck my innocent little pussy.
How wrong he’ll be.
I will be the one to find him. And I will make sure to fuck him just as brutally as the woman he’s abused.
Just as I sneak behind the walls, the overhead lights shut off, and the strobe lights turn on. Thick smoke filters out of the machines and slowly builds up in the rooms, filling the room with every color in the rainbow. Phantom fingers curl in the open spaces, masking the monsters hiding within.
It takes another twenty minutes for the doors to open to the public. In that time, as the monsters creep into their hiding spots and wait, there’s always a tangy anticipation that settles in the air. The calm before the storm. The silence before the screams.
A group of girls scuttles in first. Hunched together and clasping each other’s hands tightly. I inhale deeply and cast my judgement. A garden of flowers greets my nose. I smile, my eyes rolling from the mix of petunias, tulips, and daises.
On cue, the monsters jump out and give chase, forcing them onto the path they’re supposed to take.
Familiar screams decorate the poignant air. I shift on my feet, eagerly watching the door. The monsters—a clown with peeling skin and a woman with her chest torn open—get back into their spots and await the next guests.
The front door creaks open, but instead of the sinister older man, it’s two beautiful girls. My smile drops and I feel disappointment for a moment before their smell fills the air. Immediately, I’m hit by the smell of jasmine and roses.
My eyes nearly roll, but I keep them focused on the women. Both are beautiful, and stark contrasts to each other. One has long, beautiful cinnamon colored hair, with light freckles dotting her creamy skin. The other has smooth dark brown skin, light green eyes that steal your breath away and a golden hoop in her nose. Both have beautiful bodies, the cinnamon haired girl curvier in the hips, but no less rounded in the right areas than her friend.
I’m not sure what it is about the pair that draws me in. They’re magnetic, and I can’t help but be pulled into their orbit.
My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach as an odd feeling settles in.
These women are no doubt attracting unwanted attention. It could be from the evil man with the wife, but they could be attracting others, too. What if too many evil souls find themselves in my house, and I can’t catch them all?
While my henchmen could overpower several, it would attract attention to me. Others wouldn’t understand my mission. If I’m caught—I’m done for.
I take a deep breath, watching the pair squeal as the monsters jump out from their hiding spots. They run through the living room, laughing and giggling as they fight to get away.
My stomach churns. I don’t know what this feeling is, but I don’t like it. It’s a foreboding feeling.
Like something bad is going to happen. It’s the same feeling I got when I’d say the wrong thing to Daddy or messed up my prayers. His tense silence before he exploded and dragged me off to my punishment.
The monsters go back into position, while my face aches from how hard I’m pressing it into the wall.
The door creaks open, and a shadow casts over the white wooden floors before a large man steps through, a hood pulled over his head. I suck in a sharp breath, my eyes widening at the stature of the man. He’s not as big as Cronus, but he’s the largest man I’ve ever seen.
No, it’s not his size. It’s the way he carries himself.
This isn’t just any man.
This is a dangerous man.
I inhale, and nearly choke on the scent of him. He doesn’t smell rotten, but he smells of fire and brimstone and something… sweet. Like… like burnt roses.
He’s definitely not pure. But I can’t say he’s evil, either. At least not the same type of evil I smelled on the old man earlier.
The man looks left and right, seemingly trying to decide where to go. As he steps in further, the monsters jump out, and he doesn’t even flinch. It seems like he doesn’t even spare them a glance at all.
He walks into the living room, the monsters still attempting to scare the man. Eventually, they give up, rolling their eyes and frowning from the odd experience.
Anxiety builds in my chest. He’s here for the girls. I just know it.
The door opens again, and rotten egg permeates the air. I choke on the smell and watch as the evil man and his wife step through. Oddly, the demon’s eyes snap to the former man’s retreating back. His eyes narrow and he licks his lips, heading in that direction as well. The wife yelps when the monsters jump out.
“Quit screaming in my ear,” the evil man reprimands sharply. His wife whimpers, but otherwise keeps quiet.
Behind him enters three more men. My eyes widen into saucers, their rotten smells becoming overpowering. The stench makes me gag, along with the now overwhelming anxiety.
Just like I predicted, several evil men are in my house. And I won’t be able to kill them all.
And they know each other! I gasp when the old man pauses, his wife stopping alongside him and staring up at him in confusion. He turns to the three demons behind him and inconspicuously nods his head towards the direction that he was walking towards. Is he pointing them towards the large hooded man, or the two girls?
Oh, they are here on a mission. I growl, deep in my chest. No one comes into my house with evil motives and gets away with it.
“There’s a doll in here too,” the evil man says, talking to the three men trailing behind him. Which means they might be just what Baine warned me of.
These men aren’t here to leer and maybe even touch women inappropriately. They’re here to take them. Steal them away from their homes, never to be seen again.
I bolt, running through the walls and up the stairs. The girls will have to be in my playroom by now, probably about to get chased out by a demented doll hiding under the bed.
I nearly smash my nose into the wall in my haste to find the girls. I release a breath of relief when I see the girls entering the room. They haven’t been caught yet. And I need to make sure that doesn’t happen.
All five men must be together. They came in one after the other, all following after the girls. For the life of me, I can’t fathom why five men preying on two girls would be necessary.
Doesn’t matter. They’re all sick, sick people. And even if I can catch one of them, that’ll be better than nothing.
The doll crawls out from under the bed, chasing after the girls. She took over Jennifer’s job, but she’s not nearly as skilled at it.
I bite my lip, and growl with frustration. I’m not crazy, there’s no way I’ll be able to trap five men and take them down all at once! Not during operation hours. Who do I choose?
I grab my hair and pull as indecision claws at me. The hooded man scares me most. He’s lacking the rotten smell but he’s definitely the most dangerous. And he’ll look the cutest tied up in my chair, bleeding beneath my pretty pink blade. Maybe if I’m lucky, I can catch the old man with the wife, too—if only it means freeing that poor woman from her abuser’s clutches.
I need to catch the hooded man before he enters this room. I won’t be able to trap him with another person in the room to witness it. The doll shuts the doors again and crawls back under the bed, awaiting the next guest. I run towards the hallway outside of the playroom, where Jackal stands at the end.
The hooded man comes into view, and immediately I start singing from inside the walls. The man freezes, his body completely immobile as I continue to sing my haunting lullaby.
At the end of the hallway, Jackal comes to life. His head turns towards the man. I can’t see the man’s eyes, but it seems as if he spots Jackal. To my surprise, he heads straight towards my henchman. My singing ceases, surprised by the nerve. Most stay away from Jackal. He’s stationed at the end of the hallway to deter people from going down that direction. Their path is supposed to go through my playroom first.
The man brushes past Jackal and enters into another bedroom. Seeing my opportunity, I take a risk and scramble out of the small door and into the hallway.
I run towards Jackal, whose head is now turned back towards me with a quizzical expression. He’s surprised too.
“We need to get him now,” I rush out. Jackal follows me into the room. I stop short when I see the large man standing in the middle of the room, his back facing me as he looks around. We’re in another playroom filled with mechanical monsters. One bursts from the pink armoire in the far corner of the room. Another bursts from a closet filled with baby girl clothing.
Slowly, the man turns towards me. His face is still hidden. The flashing strobe lights do little to provide me with enough light to see his face. I just make out his lips and chin.
“Where are they?” he asks. I shiver from the sound. His voice is deep, but what makes my spine tremble is the smokiness to his tenor.
His voice emulates his scent. Fire and brimstone.
“Safe from you,” I say, as Jackal walks around me and comes to stand beside me. The man doesn’t pay my henchman any attention. I frown. That angers me. He doesn’t appear the least bit intimidated and I don’t like it.
I look at Jackal. “Let the others know two women are being followed and make sure they get away safely. I have this handled.”
Jackal nods, trusting me to handle this man and leaves.
I managed to capture one, but the other four men will still be stalking the girls. They’re not safe yet.
A small smirk is on the man’s face.
“So you’re crazy, huh?” he asks quietly.
I rear back, shocked by his assumption. I am not crazy.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap. “You’re the one preying on women.”
He cocks a brow. “That just makes me disturbed. Not crazy.”
Anger fills my lungs, like a flood bursting through a dam. I clench my fists, my nails biting into my skin. Red crescent moons imprint in the flesh of my hand. This man is… I can’t wait to kill him.
I slide my pretty knife out from under my nightgown. I always have it strapped to my thigh for quick access. I can’t see them, but I know he’s eyeing the blade, the dull metal glinting under the strobe lights. I kick my foot back, catching the door and shutting it firmly behind me.
I’m not entirely sure he’ll fit in the walls. But maybe if I can chop his arms off really quick, he’ll fit.
“What are you going to do with that, dolly?” he mocks, a sinister smile widening his lips. My eyes thin, and I nearly choke on the rage.
How dare he! This is my dollhouse, and he has the audacity to disrespect me like this.
“I’m going to kill you, monster.
