Cursed Read online

  “Thank you.”

  Abby:

  1. Smiles.

  2. Cries.

  I set down my hammer, and say, “I’m gonna try to open the door.”

  Everyone turns to look at me, except Gordon.

  “Pete said you’d pass out,” Abby says.

  “Pete’s a liar,” I say. “And even if he’s telling the truth about the barrier, maybe I can run and push open the door before I pass out. Maybe I only have to open it a little.”

  “You can’t,” Ruth says. “The pain’s too much.”

  I stand. “I need to try.”

  “Wait, hon,” Cicely says. “What if the barrier’s more dangerous than Pete implied?”

  “If anything, I think he’s more likely to exaggerate the threat.”

  “Please, Nicholas,” Cicely says, crackles. “What if it kills you?”

  “It won’t.”

  Of course, there’s no way I can possibly know that.

  But at this point, I don’t care.

  I run.

  By the time I regain consciousness, I feel:

  1. Naked.

  2. Empty.

  3. Alone.

  I want to:

  1. Turn myself invisible.

  2. Bury myself alive.

  3. Remove myself from existence.

  But this is the same old story about a person’s past, and how there’s nowhere else to hide.

  The barrier ripped me open like a stuffed animal.

  And now my friends are my enemies, because they can see:

  1. The things I’ve done.

  2. The secrets I’ve kept.

  3. The real me.

  “Don’t hurt me,” I say.

  “No one’s going to hurt you, hon,” Cicely says. She’s wearing a mask of compassion, but I can see the grim fury underneath.

  “Don’t do this. Please.”

  Then she:

  1. Puts her hand on my cheek, soft.

  2. Burns me with the fury emanating from her skin.

  3. Says, “You’re safe, Nicholas.”

  Suddenly, I understand why Cicely never slapped me. This phenomenon had:

  1. Nothing to do with some special bond between us.

  2. Everything to do with conserving all her hatred for the end.

  All I can do now is:

  1. Cry.

  2. Beg.

  3. Wait.

  So I do.

  Obviously, I know my pleading won’t stop the inevitable.

  This is what I deserve.

  “Nothing will help him,” Ruth says. “Except time.”

  And Gordon says, “I think it’s safe to assume the barrier makes us each feel vulnerable in some way.”

  “I want to go home,” I say. I’m not speaking about:

  1. My apartment.

  2. Sol’s house.

  3. Anywhere I can remember.

  “You’ll feel better soon, Nick,” Gordon says.

  He’s right.

  In a few minutes, I:

  1. Sit up.

  2. Wipe my eyes.

  3. Say, “What happened?”

  “You collapsed in the barrier,” Cicely says. “I pulled you out.”

  “Thank you.” I smile at her, but she doesn’t smile back. “How long was I unconscious?”

  “Hours.”

  “Did I touch the door?”

  “No.”

  “Was I close?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, meaning I’m:

  1. Not only sorry for failing.

  2. Apologizing for entering the barrier when I knew how much this would hurt her.

  Then Cicely says, “Maybe we should do what Pete wants.”

  The words claw into my chest, breaking my heart.

  “We can’t,” I say.

  “Fighting back’s only going to make things worse,” Cicely says. “That’s all it’s ever done.”

  “We’ll find another way out.”

  “I think Cis is right,” Abby says. “Where’s that list?”

  And I:

  1. Remove the lump of paper from my sock.

  2. Squeeze the list, tight.

  “What does he want us to do?” Cicely says.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “The door’ll only open if we all participate. And I won’t.”

  “I understand your feelings, hon. But if we don’t get out of here, we’re going to run out of water and die.”

  “We’ll escape before that happens.”

  Cicely sighs. “We’ve never broken one of Pete’s curses. What makes you think we can free ourselves from his barrier?”

  “I don’t know.”

  My grip loosens.

  “Oh fuck,” Gordon says. “I may have an idea.”

  “An escape idea?” I say.

  “Yeah. But it’s probably not gonna work, so don’t get your hopes up.”

  I don’t say, “Too late.”

  Gordon:

  1. Rubs his forehead.

  2. Says, “Pete said the barrier will break when the door opens, right?”

  “Right,” I say.

  “So what if we get someone to open the door from the outside? According to Pete, the barrier exists inside the cabin, so there’s a chance the person outside wouldn’t be affected.”

  “That’s possible, but I’m sure Pete planned for that. For one, we’re probably in the middle of nowhere. And even if there are people around, the windows are boarded up so nobody can see us. The barrier might even block out sound.”

  “Don’t worry, Nick. My plan isn’t to scream for help. I know Pete would’ve anticipated that. But maybe he didn’t plan for everything.” He scratches his eyebrow. “You haven’t been slapped yet today, have you?”

  “I don’t think so. Unless I was slapped in bed, or when I was being moved here. But I doubt the curse works on me when I’m asleep or unconscious. I wouldn’t suffer enough that way.”

  “Good. So we just need your curse to bring in somebody from outside.”

  “I wish it worked like that, Gordon, but it’s more likely one of you will slap me. Especially with the way my curse and Abby’s curse hone in on each other.”

  “That’s where the rope comes in.”

  “Oh.”

  After everyone agrees to try out Gordon’s plan, I:

  1. Start on Gordon.

  2. Feel sick.

  3. Say, “Is this too tight?”

  “It’s not tight enough,” Gordon says. “Also, I don’t think tying our hands is enough. Our fingers are still free. And if we’re able to untie each other’s ropes, the curse will probably manipulate the situation so that we have to free someone.”

  “Why would you have to free someone?”

  “I don’t know. To keep that person from dying, maybe. In any case, you need to make it as impossible as possible for us to slap you, so your curse will give up on us and target someone else.”

  I want to disagree, but of course Gordon’s right. “I’ll duct tape your hands.”

  “You’d better tape up our feet too. Just in case.”

  “Alright.”

  “There’s also our teeth to worry about.”

  “You want me to duct tape your mouths too?”

  “Want probably isn’t the best word, but yeah. That should help.”

  “Is everyone alright with this?”

  They are.

  So I carry on.

  And with every knot, my heart sinks a little farther.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, binding Cicely’s hands behind her. “This isn’t nearly as horrible as what Pete wanted us to do, but it’s still horrible. I wish there was a better way.”

  “It’s alright, hon,” Cicely says, so soft I can barely hear her. “I’m fine.”

  Doom and gloomy tears flee from my eyes.

  “Jesus fuck,” Gordon says. “I was so focused on making us harmless, I forgot about you. Nick, if you’re not tied up, the curse will probably create a scena
rio where you’ll be compelled to free one of us.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “Maybe you can pinion yourself somehow.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Countless tears later, I:

  1. Finish taping up Cicely’s mouth.

  2. Toss the tape back into the box. Not out of courtesy, but habit.

  3. Take the to-do list out of my sock, because I don’t want Pete’s message touching me anymore.

  4. Read #3 again, which is, “Line up, crotch to ass. Then tie yourselves together and walk around the room like a giant maggot. This one’s for you, Abby. I know how much you love creepy crawlers.”

  5. Glance at #8.

  6. Feel nauseous.

  7. Throw the paper on the floor.

  8. Step on it.

  9. Look at my friends.

  10. Say, “I don’t think I can secure myself on my own. Anyway, there isn’t much tape left. I’m sorry, Cicely.”

  With her eyes, she begs me not to go.

  But I do.

  And the fear and the pain swirl around inside me.

  And for an instant I wonder which one will end up killing me.

  Then I scream.

  My heart thumps, hard.

  I try to restrain myself, but hope for a fairy tale ending swells inside me.

  I imagine my mother stepping through the doorway.

  Then she hugs me tight.

  She’s beaming, crying, saving me, finally.

  But it’s:

  1. Not my mother.

  2. Svetlana.

  She:

  1. Smiles.

  2. Says, “Uncle Nicky, were you sleeping on the floor?”

  And I:

  1. Smile back.

  2. Say, “Sort of. I’m glad you’re here, Svetlana.”

  She hands me a doorstop.

  Then Greg and Nadia burst into the cabin, breathing hard.

  “I don’t know why you’re here,” I say. “But thank you.”

  “Nicky?” Nadia says.

  I approach them, and Greg:

  1. Slaps me.

  2. Pushes me onto the floor.

  3. Lifts his flashlight like a club.

  4. Says, “Stay down.”

  Nadia:

  1. Limps over to Svetlana.

  2. Squeezes her arms.

  3. Says, “What are you doing to these people, Nicky?”

  “Nothing,” I say.

  “Right,” Greg says. “So they all bound and gagged themselves?”

  “I was trapped here with them. Let me free them, and they’ll tell you.”

  “You do it, Nadia. I’ll make sure he doesn’t move.”

  “Stand behind Daddy,” Nadia says. “Then close your eyes and cover your ears.”

  “Why?” Svetlana says.

  “Now.”

  Svetlana obeys.

  Then Nadia:

  1. Stares at me for a few moments.

  2. Walks over to Ruth.

  3. Uncovers her mouth.

  4. Says, “Did he hurt you?”

  “Nicholas helped save us,” Ruth says.

  “Oh.”

  “You can lower your weapon now,” I say.

  After a few seconds of glaring, Greg complies.

  And I rush over to Cicely.

  “Why is Uncle Nicky’s friends all tied up?” Svetlana says.

  “Your mother told you to cover your eyes,” Greg says.

  “Are you OK, hon?” Cicely says, the moment her mouth’s free.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “You were in there so long. You kept convulsing. Are you sure you’re OK?”

  “I’m fine. Really. I didn’t even feel paranoid when I woke up this time. The breaking of the barrier must’ve undone its effects on me.”

  Cicely sighs with what must be relief, because her brow relaxes a little afterward.

  “I tied these too tight,” I say, when I see the state of Cicely’s wrists. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Cicely says. “I was struggling.”

  I almost ask her why, but then I:

  1. Realize the obvious.

  2. Feel dizzy with guilt.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash.

  “I’m sorry,” Greg says.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Abby says.

  “What happened?” Nadia says.

  And Greg says, “My flashlight slipped out of my hands and landed on her foot.”

  “Be more careful, Greg.”

  “I’m always careful.”

  At this point, Svetlana:

  1. Walks up beside me.

  2. Says, “Do you want to see my tent? I have a purple sleeping bag.”

  “I’d love to see everything,” I say. “But I’m feeling really sleepy. I need to go home soon.”

  “Oh.”

  “Can I have a hug, Svetlana?”

  “OK.”

  We hug.

  “Thank you for saving me,” I say.

  “You’re welcome,” she says.

  As soon as everyone’s free, we rush out of the cabin. And my whole body feels lighter the instant I pass through the doorway.

  “Good plan, Gordon,” I say.

  “Good guts, Nick,” Gordon says, squeezing my arm.

  Greg:

  1. Points his flashlight at my chest.

  2. Says, “Do you need us to stay and talk with the police?”

  “You can go,” I say. “We’ll handle it.”

  Then Nadia:

  1. Holds Svetlana’s shoulders.

  2. Says, “Don’t you ever run away from Mommy and Daddy again. We need to stay very close when we’re camping.”

  “But I had a bad dream,” Svetlana says. “Uncle Nicky was stuck in the Jell-O.”

  “Nightmares are no reason to run away. If I didn’t wake up when you were leaving the tent, you could’ve got lost in the woods.”

  “Like Hansel?”

  “This isn’t a story, Svetlana. Mommy hurt her ankle running after you. Did you know that?”

  Svetlana:

  1. Shakes her head.

  2. Cries.

  And Nadia:

  1. Says, “Let’s go, Greg.”

  2. Turns to me.

  3. Says, “Goodbye, Nicky.”

  “Bye,” I say.

  Greg picks up Svetlana, and the three of them fade into the dark forest.

  As for the rest of us, we:

  1. Enter Ruth’s car.

  2. Buckle up.

  3. Head for home.

  “I hope Meta’s alright,” Gordon says.

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” I say. But of course I’m not sure at all.

  “If Pete hurt her, I’m gonna kill him.”

  Then Abby says, “Do you think Pete’s mad about us getting out?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “What do you think he’s gonna do?”

  “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. We’re gonna find a way to stop him.”

  Somehow, I expect Cicely to:

  1. Break the silence that follows my words.

  2. Support my conviction.

  In other words, I expect her to be her old self again.

  But when I face her, she seems:

  1. Distant.

  2. Drained.

  “Are you alright?” I say.

  “No,” she says, staring at the tennis ball in her hands.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She laughs a little. “Everything’s wrong, hon. Like you said, what we did to ourselves wasn’t as horrible as Pete’s list, but it was still horrible. Even when we win, we lose. Pete’s going to keep putting us in cages, and eventually he’ll find one we can’t get out of.”

  Her words sink deep inside me.

  And I try to believe:

  1. Cicely’s wrong.

  2. We can escape this nightmare.

  But part of me knows we’re more than cursed.

  We’re doomed.

&nb
sp; #30

  Cicely hands me a letter, so out loud I read:

  Dear comrades,

  Congratulations on your brilliant break out yesterday. Not only did you outplay me in my own game, you taught me a very valuable life lesson. I learned that despite your extreme imperfections, you humans deserve a little respect after all. In light of this realization, I’ve decided to undo your curses and grant each of you everlasting autonomy.

  No, but seriously, I bet my buddy Steve that you’d figure out the alternate method of opening the door. He was positive you didn’t have the brainpower, so I ended up winning 200 new minions. Thanks for that.

  And you all deserve a big bravo for putting on such a delightful show. I haven’t laughed so hard in weeks.

  Best wishes,

  Pete.

  P.S. Nicky, I must commend you on delivering what was, to me, the stand out performance of the night. I especially enjoyed the scene where you so nobly surrendered yourself to suffering in order save your friends. Quite the Hallmark moment.

  P.P.S. Also, Nicky, you should know that by remaining in the barrier so long, you allowed my awareness to seep deep inside you. Naturally, I took this opportunity to thoroughly explore your being, and truth be told, you’re even more like me than I imagined. Your power is nothing compared to mine, of course, but your true nature is certainly impressive. Anyway, see you in the funny pages.

  “He’s just trying to fuck with your head, Nick,” Gordon says.

  “Yeah,” Abby says. “You’re nothing like Pete at all.”

  I can’t think of anything to say, so I don’t.

  And Gordon says, “I doubt he ever expected us to escape the way we did. He wrote this letter to save face and make us feel helpless.”

  I don’t say, “Maybe we are helpless.”

  What I do say is, “I’m gonna get some water.”

  Inside the kitchen, I:

  1. Refill my glass.

  2. Stare at the monsters on the fridge door.

  3. Fight back the memories flooding my mind.

  Obviously, I know my friends can’t see my past just by looking at me.

  But still, I feel like hiding.

  As soon as I hear footsteps on the tile:

  1. My heart hammers against my chest.

  2. Cicely’s face flashes behind my eyes.