Quickly sitting upright, I rush to my feet. Fastening the buttons of my bodysuit, an eerie silence takes over the room. When I turn to face them, they’re gaping at me.
“It’s not polite to stare,” I tell them.
Ghost approaches me, taking my shoulders in his hands. “In the bathroom, earlier,” he hesitates, and my stomach sinks. “At the party. You were upset. Who was that girl?”
“She was nobody,” I reply, brushing it off. “It’s really not a big deal.”
“I can see right through you, little Quinn.”
“Why are you asking?”
“Because you’re hurting. And I don’t ever want to see you hurt.”
Holding up my wrists, I gaze down at the scars, memories flooding back to me. I’ve never had anyone to talk to about this. Not ever. As strange as it may be, it’s consoling that they want me to share my darkest secrets.
Staring into his eyes, I release a small breath. “My childhood sucked, and school was even worse. I was bullied.” I force a laugh. “Really, really bad.”
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, bringing me into his warm, bare chest. “I’ll kill them.”
“It’s been a few years,” I say dryly. “But the trauma it caused. The second-guessing. Wondering if maybe, the whole time, they were right.”
He pulls back, taking my face between his hands. “Right about what?”
“They told me it was my fault that my dad killed himself,” I softly say, tears springing to my eyes.
His body tenses. Face hardens. And those eyes.
They’re terrifying.
Anger consumes every ounce of his being.
Turning to Jason, he glares at him. It’s evident that they’re silently exchanging words before Ghost releases me and storms out of the room.
“These bullies,” Jason says, now dressed, as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Do they live around here?”
“I’m not sure,” I reply quietly. “But they all work at the haunted house every year.”
“The one here in Salem?”
I nod.
“You know it’s not true,” he urges, brushing my face with his fingertips. “Right?”
My body stiffens, as I draw in a shaky breath.
“Quinn,” Jason presses, frowning. “You know that was bullshit, right?”
“Mhm,” I whisper.
“It was a bullshit fucking lie. There is no truth in that,” he tells me. “Have you ever talked to anyone about this?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to cause my mom any more stress,” I admit, my lips quivering. “She’s been through enough. I didn’t want to be another burden in her life—”
“Stop,” Jason stops me, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “You’re not a burden.”
“Don’t you fret, little Quinn,” Ghost says as he enters the room. “They’re going to pay for what they did to you.” He steps between Jason and me, pressing a lingering kiss on my forehead. “They’re going to pay with their life.”
The motorcycle engines roar as we speed down the street. The brisk, night air sends goosebumps all over my body. Wrapping my arms tighter around Ghost’s waist, he grips just above my knee with his hand, comforting me.
And I melt against him.
It must look so crazy seeing men on bikes in costume, wearing Halloween masks as we drive past. We pull onto a dark, quiet road, the only light coming from the headlights of their motorcycles. It’s an eerie scene as we turn into an empty lot, surrounded by woods.
The engines go silent, and suddenly I’m able to hear the faint sounds of Halloween-themed music in the distance. The tune of Michael Myers theme song.
“Just for you, Mike,” Ghost says to Michael, before helping me off his bike and removing my helmet for me, draping it over a handlebar.
“Where are we?” I ask, over the sound of the buzzing insects and leaves rustling on the ground from the wind.
“Back entrance,” Jason smugly answers, reminding me of earlier.
“We’re at the haunt?”
“Don’t you want to have some real fun?” Ghost asks, adjusting his mask. “Let’s pay your bullies a visit. It’s time for revenge.”
“I don’t want them to see me,” I stutter, uneasily, following behind them as we enter the dark, wooded area.
“You don’t have to, baby,” Ghost coos, linking his gloved fingers through mine. “Leave that part to us.”
Michael leads the way with his flashlight. The music grows louder with each passing minute. The atmosphere is frightening, exhilarating, as the screams from guests echo through the night air. Entering a cornfield, my three protectors march toward the side entrance to the haunted house in the distance.
Coming across a group of four, we stand silently behind the trees, watching the glow sticks grow brighter and brighter as they approach us.
Michael steps out, getting a bloodcurdling shriek out of them as they run up the path. Jason laughs at the encounter, yet Ghost remains silent.
Completely on edge. Boiling with rage.
“What are you going to do?” I ask him, staring into the dark eyes of his mask.
“I’m going to scare them,” he responds coldly. “I want to see the fear in their eyes.”
Jason slows his pace, facing us as he walks backward. “How many?” he questions, his business-like tone sending a shiver down my spine.
“They all work in the haunted house,” I anxiously reply. “Every single one of them.”
“That’s a lot of people,” Jason mutters.
“It’s fine,” Ghost dismisses, as we come to a halt, and he gazes down at me. “I need names.”
“Names?” I ask.
“Name the ones who were the worst,” he orders. “The ones who really hurt you.”
Memories come flashing back to me, as I take a moment to ponder my response. This one isn’t hard. It’s easy.
“The guys were the worst,” I carefully answer. “Derek. John. And Alex.”
“Good girl,” he breathes, caressing my face. “Do you want to watch, little Quinn?”
My heart pounds as I slowly shake my head.
“Okay,” he whispers. “Then you stay right here. Don’t move. No matter what you hear, or see, do not move from this spot.”
“Okay,” I whisper back.
And they stalk toward the house.
