Page 2 of Enter if you Dare: Part One

“Fucking stupid bitch,” a male voice grumbles as I tackle him to the ground, but quickly spring back up onto my feet. I run as fast as I can, even though I have no idea where I am. All I know is that I can’t let him catch me or it’s all over red rover.

Heavy footsteps sound from behind me, but I don’t look back or it will become too real. I can’t help but wonder if this is Rowan’s doing, as it wouldn’t be the first time someone has come for us. I shove my emotions down to think about later; I can’t be pissed about it right now, I just need to run.

The road curves, and a bridge comes into view. There are distant lights on the other side, so they’re my best hope of help. I push forward, hitting the bridge at a dead sprint, and the planks rattle under my feet. The gate on the other side is closed, but I have nowhere else to go, so I scale the fence and drop to the ground on the other side. As if it senses my intrusion, the path lights up, taking me by surprise and causing me to stumble over my own feet.

Righting myself, I race around the side of the building, trying to escape the light. Thankfully, it’s dark on this side, and I cut down a path, walking easily until the trees close in. I decide to hide myself within them and move as fast as I can.

I vault over a fallen tree but land wrong on the rough ground. My ankle turns, and I stumble. The asshole must have been closer than I realized because he catches me and slams me to the ground, the impact knocking the wind from my lungs.

As I try to push him away, he swings and punches me in the jaw. My vision goes white as my head snaps sideways, the taste of copper flooding my mouth. Driving my fist forward, it connects hard enough to his side that I hear him grunt, but then he grabs me and doesn’t let go. When he fists his hand in my hair, I scratch his face, hoping to get his eyes as I dig my nails in. I try to push my knee up, but he lands a second fist to my cheek and then another to my eye before lifting me and dropping me hard onto the ground. Though stunned, I will myself to get up—if I stay down, I know I’m as good as dead.

Get up, get up, get up.

My vision blurs and I blink frantically, trying not to pass out. But my attacker hasn’t touched me again, and I glance around and see a scarecrow standing behind him.

Maybe I’m already dead.

My brain can’t comprehend what I’m seeing right now; surely this is not a real person.

The figure is dressed in old, torn fabric, straw is pushed through the collar and cuffs of his sleeves, and a rope is tied around his throat. His floppy hat is pushed back enough that I can see his dark hair. His feet are bare, and he is holding a sword made from corn. As he looks at me, the moonlight catches his gorgeous amber eyes.

I’m definitely dead—there is no way this is real.

The figure turns his attention to the man standing over me, who does not know someone is now behind him. The scarecrow moves so fast I barely see it—in one clean motion—then my attacker hits the ground and does not move.

The scarecrow moves forward and looks down at me. “I have no color, yet I stop you in your tracks. I have no voice, yet every eye finds me first. I am broken in places no one can see, and still they call me the most striking in the room. What am I?”

My eyelids flutter closed, and my entire world goes black.

Cave

What is given freely, but once broken can never be mended? What is the foundation of everything, yet the easiest thing to destroy?

The island is loud. But it shouldn’t be loud, not with everyone inside. Nixie told everyone to stay indoors tonight, yet I can hear movement. It shouldn’t be here. And those footsteps . . . they’re not ones I have heard before.

I’m not supposed to leave my cornfield, but the need to know what the noise is burns inside me. The closer I get to the edge of the cemetery, the more I sense something is wrong.

Small feet are running, and heavy ones are following behind.

I move on the edge of darkness, keeping well hidden. The dark and I have an understanding, and I move through it with ease.

The man is large, and the girl beneath him is diminutive in comparison. She is so small and helpless on the ground, shaking as she tries to push herself up.

I stare at her, knowing I shouldn’t be thinking about the things I am.

When I was small, someone told me that, but not with their words. Those people never used words, but they did other things, and now I see things slightly wrong. Apparently something was broken in me. Now I’ve had years to think about it, and I’ve decided they were right about the broken part, but I’m not sure about the rest. This is the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.

It’s not the blood or what he has done to her that makes something hot sear through my chest. It’s the way she still fights, refusing to surrender. The tears on her face as her body won’t go down without a fight.

I’ve seen nothing like this, and though I want to keep looking, I need to stop him.

I stare for a moment longer, memorizing every part of her, but when he reaches for her again, I move. He doesn’t hear me—no one ever does.

Except for her.

She sees me, and her doe eyes run over the length of my body, following my sword as I raise it into the air and bring it down, hitting the back of his head with the handle.

He grunts and goes down, landing heavily on his side. I gaze down at him for a moment to make sure he doesn’t get back up. He is still breathing, which poses a conundrum—I can either drag him away and fix that problem, or help her.