The Shatter Point

7

Chapter 1

Everyone has a breaking point. For some it takes a lot. For others, just a little. When Phil and Donna Woods built Horror Place, an extreme haunt in an unremarkable neighborhood, they could not have foreseen the terrible consequences that would come to pass. No one could have predicted what happened. But all the same, each step in the path was being laid down brick by brick, stone by stone, and would lead inexorably to the disturbing outcome. The past haunts each one of us. The ghosts watch silently, helpless to prevent the past from shattering the present when that breaking point is reached.

Jada Mercer picked up a chicken drumstick and eyed her boyfriend Asher as they sat at the table in his apartment. For the past two weeks, as late summer began its restless transition to autumn, she had started feeling a restlessness of her own. It was not just that she bored easily, but Asher’s gentle demeanor differed so much from the guys she usually dated. The contrast had offered a refreshing change during the first three months of their relationship. She had found it rather sexy at first. Now she craved excitement again. And she had discovered something that might provide the spark. As she bit into the drumstick, a blotch of barbecue sauce splattered with a soft thud into the take-out carton.

Asher studied his food, preoccupied. Should he start with the chicken nuggets or the fries? He peeled back the foil lid on the container of honey mustard. A pungently sweet aroma rose from the mixture colored an unnatural shade of yellow. He sensed a sneeze building but stifled it, then reached for a chicken nugget and swirled it in the dip.

So, began Jada, wiping some barbecue sauce from her lower lip, I heard about this cool extreme haunt—it’s unbelievable—like you’ve been kidnapped, or something. When Jada talked, her sentences erupted in staccato bursts, the words practically stumbling over themselves. Men were drawn into her brisk orbit like shooting stars that flamed briefly before burning out. Her proudest feature—even if she treated every feature of her beauty as her proudest—was the luxuriant black hair that draped down below her shoulder blades. The lustrous hair shined with the same silkiness featured in the photographs on a hair care product box. And because few people possess such silkiness in real life, she loved nothing more than to conspicuously shake it back with a toss of her head, which she presently did for Asher’s benefit. All kinds of scary things happen—it’s like being tortured.

Asher said Hmm, chewing his nugget. He looked around the spread of containers for a napkin.

There are videos online—Megan showed them to me. Jada waited for Asher to say something, but he offered no comment. I’ll show you one later—you won’t believe it.

So you think you might want to do it?

I don’t know—I just think it’s wild. I mean, you should see what these people go through—unbelievable stuff.

Asher picked up a couple of fries. Like?

Like having blood poured on them—being blindfolded and tied up—getting locked in a coffin.

Asher grimaced. Seriously? Are you sure it’s real?

Yeah, yeah, it’s totally real—Megan knows someone who actually went through it—Brianna. I don’t know if you remember her—She was with me and Megan when I met you.

Asher tried to recall a face, but that had been three months ago, and he had only seen her from across the room. Why did she do it?

Jada reached her left hand across her body and flicked back the lock of hair that had fallen across her right shoulder. It’s a challenge thing—to see how tough you are. She reached down for a chicken thigh, then looked at Asher without lifting her head. He dipped another chicken nugget in the yellow sauce, swirling it slowly with concentration. His thoughts drifted to the class paper he had not yet started, and the fact that he still did not have a clue what major to choose, even though he had recently started his sophomore year of college. Being with Jada was exhilarating, but at the same time exhausting. She demanded a great deal of attention—was used to getting a lot of attention—and Asher felt pulled in multiple directions at once: college, his band, working as a shuttle bus driver… and Jada. He found it difficult to say no, however, having learned to get approval by pleasing others.

Jada’s cell phone chimed, announcing a text message. She removed the phone from her purse. He watched her finger swipe the screen and press the same corner like a bird pecking at seed. She evidently found something interesting, because she shook her hair back and started texting. He wished she would put away the phone, but instead of saying something he picked up another chicken nugget.

After a couple of minutes, she put down the phone, then slipped one foot out of her sandal and began running the foot along Asher’s calf. She arched her eyebrows suggestively, then resumed eating the chicken thigh. I found a new restaurant to check out, she said between bites. It got, like, amazing reviews.

Asher looked away. Yeah, sure. Expensive meals with Jada had become a burden on his budget, thus the evening’s attempt at cheap take-out. He felt so fortunate to have a girl as pretty as Jada. Whatever it took to keep her pleased, well, then, that’s what he had to do. Maybe he could apply for a student loan this semester. He pushed away the box of nuggets.

You okay? asked Jada, then started gnawing again on the thigh.

Yeah, I’m cool. Just full.

Jada put down the half-eaten thigh and took out her phone. Then let’s watch the video. While the video loaded, she pulled her chair around to Asher’s side of the table. Her enthusiasm surprised him. The concept did not sound like something that would interest her. Dressing up, yes. Fancy dinners, yes. Fashionable activities like skiing, yes. But extreme horror? Ominous music played while lightning flashed behind a series of titles:

HORROR PLACE

The Most Shocking Extreme Haunt in the World

Prepare to Be Scared to Death

Enter Only If You Dare

HORROR PLACE Presents Brianna K.

That’s Megan’s friend, Jada said.

The video’s a little cheesy.

Jada ignored him, sweeping loose strands of hair behind her left ear.

WARNING

Horror Place is an extreme attraction with disturbing visuals.

Viewer discretion is advised.

The music faded, and a man appeared.

Hey, guys, this is Phil, bringing you another Horror Place video. In this video you’re going to see Brianna. Now, Brianna knows one of the guys who helps out here at Horror Place, so she pretty much knew exactly what to expect before signing up, but even still, she freaked out a little at one point—which you’ll see, ha ha—but then that’s not surprising. Despite that, she made it all the way through, and she’s proud of surviving without chickening out. You can watch her testimonial at the end of this video. So, yeah, enjoy the show. Here we go.

More ominous background music. Two men in black skeletal masks stooped on either side of Brianna, who sat on the ground blindfolded with her hands tied behind her back. One of the men began wrapping duct tape around the blindfold. Phil must have held the video camera, as his voice could be heard asking Brianna to say something about herself and what had happened so far.

Okay. I’m Brianna. I’m twenty-two years old and, uh, I signed up for Horror Place after a friend told me about it. I really wanted to, like, test myself. I was told to wait in a parking lot, and a van with two men in masks pulled up and forced me to get inside. Then they put a blindfold on me and took me here. And if I say I want you to stop, don’t listen to me.

One of the men began hitting her head with a plastic tube. The other continued taping her lower face, leaving just her nose and ears exposed. Phil asked her to nod if she could breathe okay, and she nodded. The man with the plastic tube beat her arms and legs—lightly at first, then growing more forceful, with only the slightest restraint. Brianna flinched, drawing her arms close to her sides. The other man brought a wood block close to her ear and struck it loudly. She jerked away from the sound and almost fell over. When he struck it next to her other ear, she ricocheted back.

Similar tortures followed, each one accompanied by a muffled cry. Then Tube Man ripped off the duct tape and blindfold.

Oh god oh god oh god.

How about a little pig’s blood? said Tube Man’s accomplice, who dumped a bucket of dark liquid over her head. She screamed. Now you look like Carrie. Too bad you don’t have any special powers to come to your rescue.

The men marched her into another room. In the middle sat a large basin filled with filthy water.

Kneel down!—and before she had time to comply—Do it now! The accomplice pushed Brianna to her knees. Tube Man forced her head into the water and held it there for a bit, then pulled her up by her hair. She gasped and started to sob.

Again!

No—

With her head pushed under a second time, she started to struggle to get up, but the accomplice held down her legs. Her hands chafed against the rope as she tried to free them. Tube Man lifted her head out of the water, and she coughed violently.

We’re going to kill you. After we slowly torture you.

No, please…

It’s time for the coffin.

No! I can’t take it! I can’t take it. Please.

In the next room an oblong box lay on the floor. Tube Man opened the lid, revealing a skeleton.

Just so you know, this is not a fake skeleton. It’s real. See, you can still see some pieces of flesh hanging from the rib cage.

The accomplice laughed. Tube Man ordered her to get inside, while she sobbed and pleaded.

Get in.

He pushed down on her shoulders.

Do it.

Brianna stepped into the box and slowly kneeled. Tube Man helped her lie back. The accomplice retrieved a jar and unscrewed the lid.

Here’s something else to keep you company.

The jar contained centipedes, which he poured onto her chest. Then Tube Man shut the lid and secured the latch. Brianna’s muted screams mixed with loud knocks as she kicked at the inside of the box.

At this point, the video jumped ahead to some time later. Phil explained that about twenty minutes had passed. Brianna could have been dead, so quiet was the box. Then a dampened cry erupted, undoubtedly prompted by a scurrying centipede. Tube Man opened the coffin, and Brianna wriggled to try to get up. Neither man helped her, instead unleashing more taunts. She managed to stand after some effort, however, jerking her limbs to shake off the lingering insects. The men untied her hands, then brought her into another room and shackled her to a wall beside a decaying cadaver. More torments followed.

Jada and Asher watched the entire video, transfixed. By the end, mud and other vile material covered a wild-eyed, teary Brianna. Phil asked her how she felt after the experience.

Thank God it’s over.

Phil chuckled.

I never want to do that again, for sure. That was the worst experience I’ve ever been through.

Cut to daylight on a different day, shadows swaying beneath a backyard pergola, Brianna standing before the camera smiling, composed.

So, Brianna, tell us what you thought about your experience now that you’ve had a day to recuperate.

Oh my God… It was intense. Unbelievably—just intense, you know? I can’t think of any other word.

Were you really scared? Did you think you might die?

Definitely. I was terrified. But I’m glad I did it. Now I know I can survive anything.

The video ended with information about how to apply to experience Horror Place.

Wow, said Asher.

Jada scrolled down the page so they could read the chain of comments.

Little Lotus — 2 weeks ago

She says she wants out over and over yet they keep torturing her.

Onibaba — 2 weeks ago

You have to sign a waiver before you enter, Little Lotus.

Night Owl — 2 weeks ago

She told them at the start to ignore her if she said that.

Anna Hernandez — 2 weeks ago

She knew what she was getting into so I don’t have any sympathy for her.

CoolDude — 2 weeks ago

These places have a safe word you use to make them stop.

Onibaba — 2 weeks ago

Actually, Horror Place doesn’t use safe words.

SunshineGirl — 1 week ago

Who in their right mind would submit to this?

Night Owl — 1 week ago

It’s a challenge thing.

Little Lotus — 1 week ago

Where’s the haunt? I thought it was going to be more like a haunted house.

Night Owl — 1 week ago

It’s psychological, not the kind of place that goes boo and you laugh after.

Little Lotus — 1 week ago

What’s fun about that?

Night Owl — 1 week ago

Not meant to be fun. For endurance to test yourself.

Matt Hauser — 6 days ago

I heard that someone went crazy after going through it.

Onibaba — 6 days ago

That’s just a rumor.

SunshineGirl — 6 days ago

Is this even real?

Blade123 — 5 days ago

This is white people shit.

Night Owl — 5 days ago

Yes, the videos are real.

spaceboy — 5 days ago

sign me up

SunshineGirl — 4 days ago

You couldn’t pay me a million dollars to do that.

Night Owl — 4 days ago

But you watched it, didn’t you SunshineGirl?

SunshineGirl — 4 days ago

Not all the way thru. The first 2 minutes were enough for me.

Matt Hauser — 3 days ago

I heard they hire actors to pretend to be participants.

Onibaba — 3 days ago

Another rumor.

Anna Hernandez — 3 days ago

The police should shut it down.

spaceboy — 3 days ago

hey its a free country

Onibaba — 2 days ago

They’re not doing anything illegal.

Night Owl — 2 days ago

They’re just giving people what they want.

SunshineGirl — 2 days ago

But it doesn’t look safe. You wouldn’t let someone crowd people into a building that’s a fire trap, would you, just because they wanted to go in?

spaceboy — 2 days ago

dont be so anal

Night Owl — 2 days ago

If you don’t like it don’t go.

Little Lotus — Yesterday

It’s a bit much for me, but if that’s what floats your boat…

Jada put away her phone. Are you interested?

I don’t think so. Seems a little insane.

She helped herself to one of Asher’s uneaten fries. If a girl can do it, you should be able to—I mean, I’d be impressed—if you could make it through. She looked at him in that way she had honed through practice, lowering her head and tilting it to one side while she kept her eyes on him.

I don’t know.

She leaned forward to rub his thigh and lowered her voice. It would be so sexy if you did it. Her hand crept up toward his crotch.

I’ll think about it.

Jada pulled back her hand and straightened. As Asher watched, she gathered the meal’s trash and dumped it in the waste basket. She opened her compact and quickly applied a fresh coat of lip gloss. He had hoped for some intimacy after dinner—his roommate was out for the evening—but Jada announced, I should go, babe—I promised Megan I would stop by. The compact snapped shut with a sharp rap. She pulled the strap of her purse up over her shoulder and swung her hair back with a flick of her head. I’ll text you when I get home.

Oh. Okay.

She kissed him—a short kiss on the mouth that left the taste of strawberries—and walked out the door.

* * *

Ruth Littleton stood in the front yard watering her roses. Her perpetually pinched mouth betrayed a jaundiced, judgmental view of the world. The papery skin around her eyes suggested fragile wafers of drying phyllo. The sun would soon peek from above the houses to the east, but its rays had not yet touched the tranquil suburban street of modest one-story homes.

Ruth was proud of her garden, especially the roses: the lovely soft pink of the Bonica, the Cherry Parfait with its red blush hiding a creamy interior, the Julia Child with its confident yellow and sweet smell of licorice, the angelic white of the Pope John Paul II. She tended the roses with as much care as she would have her own children, if she had any. Oh, some people whispered how she might have once had a daughter, long ago, who died as an infant. But Ruth never discussed it, so no one knew for certain. She lived in the same three-bedroom Pasadena house that she and Barry Littleton had bought over three decades earlier with hopes of starting a family.

The street name, Acacia Lane, had instantly appealed to her, evoking an image of cheerful yellow flowers clustering in profusion on a thorny shrub. It seemed a respectable neighborhood, pleasant but unremarkable, only a few miles from the city center and the street where she had grown up. The ranch-style houses had been built at a time when open floor plans first grew in popularity. Living rooms flowed into dining rooms without the need for doorways. Kitchen half-walls provided views into dining rooms. The houses sat comfortably on their plots, neither diminutive like matchboxes nor overly dominant like a man trying to squeeze into pants two sizes too small. Front yards stayed well-tended. Sidewalks did