One Up

Chapter 15

I feel the pinch as soon as the headset is mounted. Sharp needles from the electrodes enter my temples, forcing a yelp of pain out of my throat. I feel a cold sensation as the serum enters my mind, and as soon as it started, it stops.

I take a deep breath, hoping that my first fear will be easier to deal with. The screen in the headset comes to life before me, and when the world materializes before me, a hitch develops in my throat.

I'm home.

Standing by the front door, I notice that the house is dark; deathly silent. I cross over the threshold to the light switches, but when I flip them, they refuse to create light. Panick starts rising in my chest.

"Mom?" I yell into the darkness. Silence ensues. "Mom?!" I shout, more forceful, but nothing. Then I hear it: footfalls echoing upstairs. They near the top and that is when I gasp. Standing at the top of the steps is Jordan. He doesn't smile though. Instead, his once-gentle face contorts with rage at the sight of me.

"Didn't you know?" he says, venom rising in his voice. "Mom left you here." At his words, my heart aches. "W-why, Jordan? Why isn't she here?" I say up to him. His demeanor barely changes as he takes a step down. More steps follow and I instinctively back away. I try the front door but find it locked, and when I turn back around, he is already there. He pushes me against the door, hard. Wrapping his fingers around my neck, he squeezes ever so slightly, causing me to gasp with the lack of oxygen.

"You really want to know why?" he says as he whispers venomously in my ear. "Because the only kid who didn't disappoint her died. Want to know who that kid is?" he asks, squeezing my throat tighter. I start choking as my trachea starts to constrict. Digging my nails into his skin, I try to pry him away, try to get an ounce of oxygen back, but he is so strong.

"Me, Samara," he spits. "And the reason I'm dead is because of you."

His words stop me in my tracks, like a slap to the face. I didn't kill my brother. He was murdered. Does part of me feel responsible? Yes, because I didn't convince him to stay that night. I couldn't stop him from going to that party, getting drunk... but he didn't drive home. He walked, and that is how he died. Walking alone, he got robbed, and he died.

Looking into his eyes, a piece of this puzzle falls into place. With unknown strength that I didn't realize I had, I use my foot to smack the back of Jordan's knee, the way he taught me long ago. Instantly, this Jordan falls back, and then I land knife-jab right into his neck. He holds his throat, and that is when I see it. A knife on the table beside our front door.

I quickly grab it, before rushing down and holding it against his neck. He stiffens, so I dig the knife closer into the first layer of his skin. The real Jordan would be proud of me right now, and I use that momentum to let the words fall.

"Now, Jordan, listen to me," I start. "I am not responsible for your death. If you would have listened to me that night, you would have lived. You wouldn't have left us alone. That is your choice and your fault alone!" I scream at him as tears fall from my eyes.

I take in his dirty blonde hair, his blue eyes... everything that I remember about him. My heart hurts with how much this Jordan reminds me of the one I lost.

"God Jordan, I miss you so much," I whimper, still holding the knife to his neck. I watch him, watch as his face flits from anger, to sadness, and that is when the screen turns to black.

I feel the sharp pinch as the elecrodes are removed from my temples, and then I am able to remove the headset altogether. Tossing it off my head, I sink to the floor and let it all loose. Hot tears stream down my face and land on the cold, glass below. His image remains tattooed into my mind, causing me to cry even more.

It is moments later that I remember where I am. Glancing up, I see that I am the first one out of my Fearscape. Beside me, I watch through the glass as Sage bats at things, his chest heaving heavily. Turning around, I see the other captives through the glass. Some fight at their fears, while others hunker down in the fetal position.

To my dismay, over in pod number seven, I watch as the winner-Corbin Matador from Spain-rips off his headset, and based off of the blood coming from his temples, he was not ready to leave his Fearscape. An alarm sounds and fear grips my chest as a gas flows into the pod. Corbin starts kicking the glass, holding his throat as the gas seems to eat away at the oxygen. Within moments, he is lying motionless on the floor. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that he is no longer with us.

I watch as the guards open his pod door, before they heave his limp body out of the cell. Corbin's dark, fear-filled eyes remain open and all I hope for is that I don't meet the same fate, but that would be too easy. In my heart, I know, that once my usefulness has ended here...

...I would meet my end too.