Teen Hyde (High School Horror Story #2)(69)

A system of cables and pulleys with steel hooks hung from floor to ceiling. Puppet master on a string. I ran my fingers up the length of one of the taut cables as I glided past. I picked up another pebble from the floor and chucked it at another silo, enjoying how he jumped at the clang.

I remembered how he’d laughed, how he’d encouraged the other ones, told them what to do. I remembered how he wore a smug look on his face like he was untouchable. I remembered it and I hated him.

Slowly, I reached into the front pocket of my hoodie until my hand closed around a thick, solid object. I pulled the Taser gun out and flipped it over. Can you believe you don’t need a license for one of these? I mused.

I would hang Tate high until the last breath was squeezed from his neck and his eyes bulged and his tongue fell out of his mouth.

Tate turned just in time. We were both bathed in the glow of the lantern. I shot the Taser at him. The lantern banged against the cement floor. He hit his knees, muscles convulsing. It was a good look for him.

I wasted no time, though. I stuffed the Taser back into my pocket. Then I wrapped the rope twice around his throat, twisted the ends together, and hooked it onto one of the iron claws hanging on a cable cord. He squirmed like a worm on a hook. I wrapped my hands around the cable and pulled with all my might.

There was a crank and the hook moved up. The rope tightened around Tate’s neck. His feet dragged on the ground. He wriggled to try to get them underneath his weight for support. His time was short and the flashes in his eyes told me that he knew it.

“Pop quiz,” I said, keeping my hands gripped around the metal pulley system.

“Go…” He struggled. “… Screw … yourself.”

“Wrong answer,” I said, and pulled the cable again. He lost his balance and struggled against the rope to right himself. “Let’s try this again. First question. What was the date on which you assaulted a high school girl named Cassidy Hyde?”

The pupils of Tate’s eyes flitted from one side to the other. I tapped my toe on the floor.

“Aw, come on, Tate. You can do it. Here, I’ll offer a reminder. She was about this tall.” I held my hand even with my scalp. “She had brown hair.” I slipped my hood off and flipped my hair over my shoulders. “Pretty. Very pretty, if I do say so myself.”

Tate’s Adam’s apple bobbed against the rope.

I frowned. “No? Well, that’s a shame.” I tugged on the pulley cable and the rope tightened again.

He worked his fingers into the rope at his neck and tried to loosen it. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

“Are you ready for the next question?”

He twisted and fought against the rope. It began to creak. He had his fingers in between his skin and the rope. “You’re not giving me much of a choice here, Tate.” His eyes bugged. I reached into my pocket for the Taser gun again.

But out of the corner of my eye, I saw a scrap fall from my pocket and land on the toe of my boot. I blinked and glanced down. I bent and picked it up. For a second, I was lost in the satin texture. It felt familiar. Instinctively, I brought it to my cheek and rubbed it against my skin. Soft.

I took a deep breath and touched it to my nose. “Mmmmm…” I closed my eyes for just a moment.

Strawberry shampoo. Laundry detergent. Maybe a hint of something else …





TWENTY-THREE

Cassidy

I came to like a person breaking the ocean surface having held her breath for too long. My lungs welled up and I gasped. My first thought was of Honor. I looked down at the scrap of blanket clutched between my fingers and clasped it to my chest. I was back. But where was I back to?

“What…” I startled at the anger in a voice so close by. “… question?”

And then I saw him. Him. The boy from the dining hall. The boy from Dearborn. Tate.

Or at least it was a version of him.

I took two steps back.

He was dangling from a noose. Sweat bubbled at his brow line. Fury raged in his eyes.

“W-W-What question…?” I stuttered. My fingers worked in the swatch of blanket.

My gaze skirted the strange factorylike place in which I found myself. I whimpered at the sound of soft moaning coming from a distance.

The contents of my stomach surged up my windpipe, choking me before I vomited.

“What’s going on?” I pointed to Tate.

He gurgled. Tears were leaking from his eyes. “You … are … insane.” His cheeks puffed out and sucked back in. “You know that?”

I felt my lower lip begin to tremble. I covered my mouth. “I—I tried to warn you.”

Tate struggled to keep his feet underneath him. “Warn me? What kind … of warning was … that? You said nothing.” His words were a growl. “Nothing!”

“I—I—I—you didn’t even see me!” I shrieked. Hair flew in my eyes. I peeled it off. “You didn’t know who I was!”

He sees you now.

I felt feverish. “Please…” I pushed my palm against my forehead. “I didn’t want this.”

You wanted all of it.

“I just need to think.” Coward. I shook my head.

Kill them. End it.

“No!” I shouted.

“You will pay for this. You hear me? My father is a congressman.”