Page 1 of Make Her Scream

PROLOGUE

Feminine laughter drifts on the still night air, and I catch my breath.

Oh, no. Please. Not again.

I do my best to stay hidden from my brothers, knowing if they catch me here they’ll beat me, or worse. But I can’t do nothing. I have to try.

I slip from my hiding spot and run at a crouch toward the laughter, the soles of my shoes tacky against the discarded cotton candy on the ground. The skeletal structures of rides, the Ferris wheel and the chained swings, climb high into the night sky, silhouetted against the moon and stars. When the carnival is open, they’re a kaleidoscope of movement and noise, but now they are silent guardians watching over this place.

The funfair is closed to the public at this time of night, but that doesn’t always mean it’s empty.

Strangers find their way here, whether it’s because they’ve been invited, or because they’ve accepted a dare to enter by friends.

I spot the source of the laughter. Two girls scurry across the fairground. One is a tall, busty brunette, and her friend is a short blonde. They cling to each other’s arms, leaning into one another as though for support. They glance around, perhaps looking out for the men who invited them here, or even watching out for men who didn’t. They seem nervous but excited.

The girls don’t scare me, but I don’t want to be seen by the others who stalk this place at night. If they know my plans, they’ll punish me, and the thought of their punishments terrify me. But I can’t sit back and do nothing, not knowing what the girls’ fate will be.

As I’d expected, they’re heading toward the funhouse, and I follow.

Like the rest of the carnival, the funhouse is in darkness, but it’s clear from the way the two girls are heading directly there that it’s the place they’ve been instructed to meet.

Frozen clown faces leer down as I hurry past, their white teeth catching in the moonlight in a way that makes me think they want to eat me.

The girls reach the front of the funhouse, and they pause, clearly unsure what to do next. Go inside? They glance over their shoulders, looking for someone, and I duck behind the ride I am standing by, not wanting to be seen. It’s too exposed out here, and I guarantee eyes are watching, and not only the cold, dead eyes of the clowns.

The funhouse suddenly comes to life, lights and music blaring into the night. The girls shriek and giggle, clutching each other at the jump scare.

Don’t go in there, I want to scream at them.

There’s no point. They won’t hear me, and I can’t risk being caught.

Movements come from all around, shifting in the shadows cast by the moonlight and the illumination of the funhouse.

I don’t want to watch, but somehow, I can’t tear my gaze away.

They emerge from the surrounding structures like a pack of wolves stalking their prey. They roll their shoulders, crack their necks, flex their muscles. Five men, naked from the waist up, displaying muscular torsos, already slick with sweat. They deliberately stay strong and fit so they can overpower whoever they come across. It wouldn’t do for someone to get away. They keep their faces hidden with Halloween masks, each one more terrifying than the next.

The girls exchange an excited smile, and I know these two were invited here for this. They understand at least part of their reason for being here, and they’re down with it.

The tallest and eldest of the men jerks his chin toward the entrance of the funhouse, where the gaping maw of another clown widens to create the doorway.

The place falls silent just as he says, “Run.”

The girls shriek with more laughter, except now it’s tinged with nerves. They’re riding high on adrenaline. They want to be scared, excited, turned on. Except they should be nothing but terrified.

Still clinging to one another’s arms, they set off into the funhouse. The men will separate them, of that I have no doubt. They’re easier to overpower that way. Not that the two of them would stand any chance against those five.

The men wait for a couple of beats, giving the girls the illusion that they might have actually gotten ahead, then they give chase.

Now I know they’re inside, I can move more freely. I round the structure of the funhouse and sneak in via the back. At this time of year, during operating hours, we make the funhouse more like a haunted house, and even have actors use the back walkways to sneak up on unsuspecting visitors, leaping out at them with fake machetes or holding severed heads. I use these same walkways now to cut ahead of the girls. I have an idea which way they’ll go… across the tilting floor, through the rotating barrels, and into the tunnel.

The music and lights are going on and off intermittently, adding to the confusion and disorientation of this place. One minute it’s chaos, the next utter silence descends.

Sure enough, both girls come stumbling through the tunnel.

From my hiding spot, I lunge for the nearest girl’s arm—the brunette—and grab her. She screams, but the power comes on again and it’s lost in the mechanical shrieks and laughter of the funhouse. I press my finger to my lips to tell her to be quiet. Her friend hasn’t noticed I’ve stopped her and keeps going.

The brunette shoots me a confused glance. I’m not who she’d been expecting.