“Please!” Her wide blue eyes skimmed the area behind me before settling back on my face. “Kinsey…please.What the fuck is wrong with you? You can still stop this!”
“Pick it up,” the voice whispered to me again. “Go on. You know what to do with it.”
I looked down to see a glinting silver blade. At the sight of it, something wild unleashed inside me. The seething tidal wave of anger and resentment I’d bottled up for months rose up my throat, burning me from the inside out.
“Come on. Do it. You know you want to,” the voice told me. “It’ll feel so good to give her what she deserves.”
Everything around me was whirling and tipping now, like I was stuck on a carnival ride. Vivid spots burst across my vision and music played all around me, loud and rhythmic. It felt like I was being sucked into a swirling vortex, and then I was back at the Sweetheart dance, swaying to a slow song as Jax held me tightly in his arms. My best friend Erin stood nearby, eyeing the enormous cake on the table at the edge of the room.
“Did they say when they’re going to cut that?” I asked, directing Jax’s attention to the table. “I really want some.”
“There’s a knife right there,” he said, patting my arm as he dipped his chin in the direction of the table. “Why don’t you go and cut yourself a piece? I doubt anyone will stop you.”
I nodded, strode toward the table, and picked up the little silver knife. When I pressed it into the top tier of the cake, I let out a little sigh of satisfaction, watching it glide through the layers of red velvet goodness.
Delicious.
The people around me wanted a piece of cake too, so I sliced into it over and over, cutting through the thick pink and white icing and tearing through the dark red layers inside until everyone had their share.
When I finally set the knife down and took a bite of my piece, Jax smirked and jokingly smushed some of his own onto my chin like we were a bride and groom enjoying our first taste of wedding cake. I laughed and returned the gesture, leaving a trail of crimson crumbs across his stubble-lined jaw; a trail I wanted to lick off before moving my lips up to his mouth. I was deliriously happy, brimming with light and joy, and then…
The spinning started again. Goosebumps spread across my arms and shivers raced through my system.
“More,” a series of faceless voices chanted. “Cut some more!”
“The cake is half gone already,” I muttered, blinking rapidly as I picked up the knife.
“Yes, but we deserve it, don’t we?” came the chorused response.
“Yes.” I nodded vehemently. “You deserve it.”
I kept cutting and cutting, serving up slice after slice to the endless line of takers. I tried to ignore the mess we were making, but it wasn’t easy. Red crumbs were spilling all over the floor and stiff chunks of icing were flying up in the air like confetti. A moment later, someone dropped a fork with a loud clatter, leading another person to freak out and drop their piece of cake, splattering the floor with even more crimson and cream.
I sighed and rubbed my left temple. It was so damn chaotic in here. I worried I was going to get in trouble with one of the teachers or parents who were chaperoning the event, but no one around me chastised me or tried to stop me.
“That’s enough.” The strange voice from earlier filtered into my head again, along with a clicking sound. “It’s done.”
I blinked. “No more cake?”
“No more.”
There was that strange sensation again, the one that made me feel as if I were being sucked into a vortex. Then I was back in the dark place with the whistling wind, shivering as my fuzzy vision cleared to reveal something pink, white, and red in front of me. Part of me expected it to be the red velvet cake from the ballroom, sitting there waiting for me to cut another slice.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for what was really there.
My body knew it first, limbs going stiff and stomach dropping like a stone. Slowly, the knowing seeped into my brain.
It wasn’t a cake in front of me. It was Cerina.
She lay supine on the floor of the gazebo in the main campus quad, wide blue eyes staring up at the white latticed roof. Crimson was splattered over her pale skin and light pink dress like ink on a Rorschach test. Upon closer inspection, several violent slash marks were visible.
The giddy happiness from the Sweetheart dance dreamscape instantly fell away, replaced with a fear so toxic and consuming that I felt like screaming and tearing my hair out. This wasn’t a dream I’d wake up from anytime soon. It was real.
I looked down at my hands, both of which were violently shaking and covered in blood. The knife was different now. Not a delicate cake knife with a floral motif on the handle. A butcher’s knife with a thick black handle and a slightly-curved blade at least seven inches long. I let out a strangled gasp and dropped it, flinching as it clattered loudly on the floor.
Why did I have that knife? Why was everything so foggy and fragmented in my brain?
“What… what’s happening?” I said, words slurring. “Cerina… is this a joke?”