The Dead Girls Club - Damien Angelica Walters Page 0,48

on the carpet with a soft rasp. I knew it was only my imagination; there was no such thing as the Red Lady. But I saw her in my mind. Fierce and terrifying with her black, black eyes; her mouth, open and bloody; her arms and the empty places below her wrists. Her rage burned me with its heat.

“Red Lady, Red Lady, show us your face.”

Rachel moaned softly around her words. Sweat stuck my hair to my scalp. Gia’s voice was husky, Becca’s excited and higher-pitched than normal. I wanted to stop, to run away, but I couldn’t pull free. It was as if our skin was glued together.

This wasn’t real. She was a story, nothing more. But I couldn’t move anything except my mouth, my voice a thousand miles away. Like the rest of me, I had no control. My ears went stuffy and my tongue stilled, clogged by something felt and not felt at the same time. Behind the blindfold, the world grew darker. A weight pushed against my chest, my belly ached, and my mouth, wrists, and side hurt. Someone laughed, sharp and cruel. The carpet beneath me felt wrong. It was cold and damp and rough, and from far away, there was a soft thumping sound. Something moved in front of me again, rustling slow and soft, and I heard my name whispered—not with my ears, but in my head.

Then, in the space of a heartbeat, the sound was gone and the carpet was carpet again. I yanked off my blindfold. The others were doing the same. I blinked, confused by the darkness.

“Why are the candles out?” Rachel said, her voice quivering. “Who blew them out?”

“Hold on, I have a flashlight,” Becca said.

There was a click and a beam of light appeared. Rachel had her knees tucked up to her chin, Gia was crouched in front of her.

“Can we put the light on?” Rachel said. “Please?”

The darkness returned as Becca crept up the stairs, flashlight sweeping from side to side. When the overhead light came on, I shielded my eyes. Rachel burst into weird hiccup-like tears. Gia giggled. Something, maybe a sob, built in my throat, but I gulped it down. Becca wasn’t angry, which surprised me. As she gathered the candles and blindfolds, she said, “It worked this time. The Red Lady was here. I felt her.”

Rachel said, “I felt her, too.”

“Me too,” Gia said.

“What about you?” Becca said to me.

The weight of their gazes was crushing. All I had to do was say yes, but I couldn’t. No matter what I’d thought I heard or felt, it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. The Red Lady wasn’t real. It was Becca, tricking me somehow. Tricking us all. “I didn’t feel anything.”

Gia frowned. “You didn’t?”

I shook my head. Inside, I was numb.

“How do you explain the candles all going out, then?” Gia said.

“I don’t know. A breeze?” I said.

“Inside the house?” Gia said.

“But the rest of us felt her,” Rachel said. “And you were the first one to let go.”

“I was afraid I was going to puke from the candle smell. That’s all,” I said.

Becca narrowed her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. Maybe the Red Lady didn’t want Heather to know she was here for some reason, but the rest of us felt her. Help me clean up, okay?”

While we put the rest of the stuff in the backpack, they didn’t talk to me, only to each other.

“I felt her right in front of me,” Gia said. “She touched my arm.”

“She touched my face. What about you, Becca?” Rachel asked.

Becca said, “I smelled her, too. She smelled like blood.”

“Me too,” Gia said.

“Me three,” Rachel said. “It was gross. But sad, too.”

They had to be lying. There was no way anything had happened for real. It was only our imaginations. And the pain I’d felt in my belly was probably just a cramp.

They were still talking after we crossed the field. We passed Gia’s house first, then Rachel’s. On the way to mine, Becca stayed quiet. I did, too. I had one foot on the sidewalk leading to my front porch when she said, “Tell me the truth. What did you see?”

“Nothing. We had blindfolds on, remember?”

She blew hair out of her face. “You know what I mean.”

“I told you,” I said, crossing my arms. “I didn’t feel anything, and all I heard was the chant.”

“I don’t believe you. You let go first.”

“Because I thought I was going to get sick.” I scraped the heel of my shoe