Prank Gone Wrong Chapter 04

Prank Gone Wrong Chapter 04

The first blow. My collarbone.

Crack.

I heard the bone snap. A clean, bright sound. Pain exploded through my body. Lightning down my spine. Like a red-hot iron rod rammed into my shoulder.

My body convulsed. Black spots swallowed my vision.

The second blow. My right arm. The arm I threw up to shield my head.

This sound was worse. A dull crunch. Ulna shattering.

The pain short-circuited my brain. But some dying neuron kept screaming danger danger danger.

The third blow. The steel frame hit my face dead-on.

The world went quiet. Just a high-pitched ringing in my ears.

Warm liquid poured down my forehead. It glued my eyes shut.

Blood.

Arterial blood. Real blood.

Not cheap corn syrup.

“Die! Just die, you disgusting freak!”

Harper screamed like a feral animal. Swinging. Over and over. Her voice wasn’t that rich-girl vocal fry anymore. It was raw. Brutal. Insane.

The steel chair landed blow after blow after blow.

Ribs snapped. I felt the splintered ends stab my lungs with every breath.

Fingers broke. Twisted into grotesque angles.

Tibia shattered. My leg went dead. Useless meat.

I wanted to scream. Beg for help. But the duct tape sealed my mouth. All that came out was a wet gurgle. An animal dying in a trap.

I wanted to run. But the zip ties welded me to the chair. I took the beating like a sandbag. No escape. No mercy.

I wanted to tell her who I was. The girl who always sat in the front row. Maya. Not a monster.

I couldn’t do anything.

Another blow.

Another.

A fatal one.

Warm blood splattered the movie posters on the wall. The strobe lights caught it. Deep black-red. Grotesque.

My consciousness frayed. The world became a blood-red kaleidoscope.

Harper didn’t stop.

She’d entered some kind of psychotic trance. Mechanical. Lift the chair. Swing. Lift. Swing.

Every strike carried lethal intent.

Finally. Finally, the boys realized something was wrong. They burst from behind the set pieces.

“Harper! What the fuck! Stop! It’s fake!” Tyler’s voice cracked. Pure terror.

“It’s a prank! Stop hitting her!” Jackson yelled.

But Harper was gone. Lost in some feral place. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her face twisted into something unrecognizable. Nothing left of the school’s golden girl.

Connor charged her like a bull. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Ripped the blood-soaked chair from her grip. Threw it across the room.

“Enough! It’s Maya! It’s Maya!”

His voice. That voice always dripping with superiority. Now it was soaked in fear. Real fear.

Harper stopped.

She was panting. Her chest heaving.

Sweat had ruined her expensive makeup. She looked like a witch.

Then she looked at me. Blood-soaked. Meat on a chair.

And she smiled.

That smile. It dropped me into a frozen lake.

“Oh. It’s Maya.”

Her voice snapped back to that airy socialite tone. Instantly. The smile made it monstrous.

“I thought it was some actual psycho killer.”

She reached up. Fixed her hair. Like she hadn’t just committed a violent felony.

“Oops. Sorry. Guess my fight-or-flight response is a little overactive.”

The color drained from Connor’s face. Bone white.

He collapsed to his knees in front of me. His hands fumbled at the duct tape. Ripping it off.

The tape tore away a layer of fragile skin.