Chapter 1

The ultimate penalty of the escape room was a mystery box filled with live, crawling roaches.

Charlotte, my so-called best friend, shrieked and recoiled in disgust. But as she backed away, she instantly grabbed the hand of Brandon—my boyfriend of five years.

She looked at me. "Chloe, you do it. Come on, this is the perfect chance to cure your phobia."

Brandon chimed in, squeezing her hand. "Charlotte’s right, Chloe. You have a panic attack every time you touch something dirty. You need to get over this."

The coworkers around us started chanting. "We all did our parts! Your group is the last one!"

Brandon walked over and forced his hand over mine, locking my wrist. "Look at me. Just look at me."

The three of us had been friends for over a decade. They knew damn well this would nearly kill me.

I have severe OCD. Mysophobia, to be exact.

Since we were kids, Charlotte had been pulling these stunts under the guise of "curing me." She’d stuff dead bugs into my backpack, or mix spoiled food into my lunch.

And Brandon would always back her up, telling me she only had my best interests at heart.

But every time I forgave them, it only paved the way for their next, even more ruthless prank.

My stomach was churning, acid rising in my throat. But looking at them now, the roaches didn't even seem like the dirtiest things in this room anymore.

Brandon’s grip on my wrist was like iron. Even though my face was paper-white and cold sweat was pouring down my neck, he wouldn't let go.

The moment he finally loosened his grip, I yanked my hand back with everything I had.

"See? I told you it wasn't that hard," Charlotte clapped, giggling.

Brandon smiled, nodding. "Exactly. Overcoming a phobia only takes a second of bravery."

As they both reached out to pat me, I took a massive step back.

"Don't touch me. You're dirty."