Chapter 3

Three days later, my right hand was still swollen.

This time the manager hadn't gotten his payoff, and he didn't give me any time off either.

He just stuck me in the darkest of the abandoned classrooms and put me on line-reading duty.

The first session hadn't even started when the iron door was shoved open from the outside.

Desiree walked in with a few thuggish-looking boys.

In her hand was the spare key that should have been in the manager's.

"Desiree, what do you want?"

She didn't answer. She only glanced at my injured right hand.

"Hold her down."

The boys closed in at once.

I spun toward the door, but the iron door slammed shut in my face.

Someone behind me grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me back.

Before I could steady myself, the loose NPC jacket was ripped open from behind.

"Let go of me!"

I fought as hard as I could, but the pain in my right fingers left me weak all over.

Two of the others held up their phones, cameras aimed at the state I was in.

"Don't move. Get it clear."

Desiree came closer, slowly.

Her eyes weren't on my face. They were fixed on my left shoulder.

My collar was yanked down hard.

That faint red crescent scar lay fully exposed under the lights.

The summer I was five, Mom stood on a stool to hang up the star lamp for me.

The nail suddenly gave way, and the whole glass frame slid down toward her face.

I lunged in terror to push her out of the way, and the frame struck my left shoulder, the shards cutting a curved moon into my flesh.

She carried me and rushed downstairs, and while the doctor stitched me up she cried and said she wished it had been her instead.

After that, she never let me touch anything up high again.

She said the scar was proof of what she owed me.

Now it had become the scythe coming for my life.

I knew Desiree had recognized who I was.

Her breath caught, something vicious flashed in her eyes, and she pulled a utility knife out of her pocket.

"Pin her down tight."

A cold went through me.

"What are you doing?"

"It's just an ugly scar. Why keep it around."

She crouched in front of me and set the blade against the crescent.

"Slice it up and no one will ever recognize you."

Pain be damned, I wrenched my splinted right hand free, tore loose, and kicked out at her.

The blade grazed my shoulder, and blood ran down my collarbone.

Humiliated and furious, Desiree raised the utility knife again.

The instant the blade came down, I threw myself at the sprinkler button in the corner.

Click. Mist burst out, and the lights flashed wildly.

Everyone let go on reflex.

I seized the chance to smash the medicine cabinet on the west wall and shove open the abandoned maintenance passage behind it.

I was the only one who knew there was another way out back there.

"Grab her!"

I squeezed through the narrow door. Someone caught the hem of my clothes.

I twisted out of the jacket and clawed my way into the dark.

At the end of the passage was the abandoned storeroom on the second basement level.

The door behind me couldn't be opened from this side, and the storeroom's iron door had long since been locked.

I still had nowhere to run.

At least there was a single bar of signal near the vent.

I curled into the corner and, with my trembling left hand, dialed 911.

"Someone's attacking me with a knife. The escape room venue at 17 Longview Road, second basement level."