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“Come out.”
He doesn’t answer.
“This isn’t funny,” I snap, but he remains silent because he’s trying to prove a point.
I wrap my arms around my middle, wondering what the fuck I ever did to end up trying to coax a serial killer out from the depths of a catacomb? If someone hadn’t posted that video of me and sent the link to Mom, then I would be safe in my own home.
If Xero hadn’t chased me through a cemetery and fucked me over a grave, then there would be no video. If those men hadn’t stormed my house, then Xero would have continued tormenting me from the crawlspace. If I hadn’t gone viral on social media, then I wouldn’t have attracted X-Cite Media. If I hadn’t posted about Xero in the first place, then I never would have gone viral.
Woulda, shoulda, coulda.
It’s me.
It’s all my fault.
No one put the pen in my hand and forced me to write to a man on Death Row. That was all my doing. I felt dead after getting ghosted by every agent who received my query letter and Rapunzelita manuscript.
Getting acknowledged by Xero made me feel alive. Now I’m using him for protection. Even I can tell I’m being a mercenary bitch. My heart sinks. Am I going to spend the rest of my life relying on others? It’s no wonder Mom got tired of dealing with my BS.
“Xero, I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to dismiss your question,” I say.
Silence.
“But I don’t know if I want to get married to anyone.”
More silence.
A cold breeze blows through the deserted hallway, making me shiver. I hug myself tighter and take a step into the narrow space.
“What do we know about each other, really?” I ask into the void. “Marriage is such a huge commitment, especially since neither of us is under a death sentence.”
Except me. X-Cite Media wanted it to be me in that snuff movie, getting assaulted, abused, and executed. I only escaped their clutches because of Xero. And now I’ve made him run away.
Shit.
How on earth do you tell a man you don’t know him well enough for a lifelong commitment, yet still want him to risk his life to save yours? Putting it like that, I sound extremely entitled.
I take one step into the dark, followed by another and another, until I’m surrounded by the absence of light. Even the atmosphere changes from dry to moist, making me wonder if I’m inhaling the water clinging to the bones.
Every inch of my skin prickles into goosebumps, and every hair on my body stands on end. I have never, ever purposely stepped into the unknown, yet I could be following Xero into the pathway to hell.
Raising my palms a foot in front of my face, I continue through the dark. When my fingers reach another wall of bones, I grope around to find a bend.
“This isn’t funny,” I mutter into the abyss.
My voice no longer echoes because the walls are getting thinner. After rounding a sharp corner, I look over my shoulder. Part of me expects to crumble into salt or vanish in a puff of smoke, but all I see is more darkness.
Needle-thin spikes of terror prick my skin, making my insides thrum. What if this is the mouth of a labyrinth? What if the monster waiting within these walls of bone is someone other than Xero?
“Where are you?” I scream.
The tunnels absorb the sound. I imagine them also stealing my breath because it’s turning shallow. Until this moment, I hadn’t considered I might be claustrophobic. Maybe it’s just a fear of mazes or a fear of being buried alive, but if Xero doesn’t come out in the next few seconds, something inside me will crack.
“Alright,” I say through ragged breaths. “This has gone on for long enough. I’m turning back.”
It’s a bluff. I know it, Xero knows it, and so do all the spirits trapped in the bones. Even my limbs know I’m bullshitting because I keep moving forward.
What happened to Lizzie’s body after we turned off the video? Did the actor defile her corpse? From what Jynxson said, it sounded like the video wasn’t even finished.
