Party Games by Jon Athan

Author:Jon Athan [Athan, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-18T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Numb

Chase took Hazel's revolver. He stood in front of the television and aimed both of the handguns at the guests. Rory tucked his pistol into the front of his waistband as he approached the recliner. He placed his hands on Jackson's kneecaps to stop him from kicking. Backpack slung over her shoulder, Hazel approached Jackson slowly, moving with wide, frolicsome steps.

The crew acted as if they had been there before, nonchalant but prepared. They knew exactly what they were doing and when they were going to do it.

Hazel gently slapped Jackson's cheek and said, “Hey, big boy. How are you feeling?”

“Fuck you,” Jackson hissed.

“I wish you would.”

Vanessa leaned forward in her seat and cried, “Get away from him.” Knowing Vanessa wouldn't stand a chance against any of them, Harper held her back. Vanessa said, “Don't hurt us anymore. Please stop this. We just wanted to have a party. We didn't do anything to any of you. We tried to help you!”

Hazel ignored Vanessa. As a matter of fact, she didn't hear a single word. She knelt down in front of the recliner. One-by-one, she pulled Jackson's feet out of the buckets. Chunks of ice and cold water spilled out during the process, soaking her legs and skirt, but it didn't bother her. She pushed the buckets aside, then she placed Jackson's left foot on her lap.

Eyes glowing with wonder, she said, “Look at this.”

Jackson's feet, ankles, and shins turned bright red. His skin suffered from severe ice burns. Some of his toes looked yellow and purple, too.

Jackson's eyes filled with tears unexpectedly as he stared down at his toes. He couldn't feel his feet. He felt a slight tingling sensation inside of his feet, as if ants were scurrying through his veins, but he couldn't feel anything else. He tried to wiggle his toes and twist his ankles, but his efforts were fruitless. His foot just sat on Hazel's lap—dead.

Hazel pulled a chef's knife out of the backpack. She stabbed into the bottom of his foot, then she slowly dragged the blade across his rubbery flesh—from his sole to his heel. Blood dripped from the large horizontal gash, but it wasn't as much as expected. The ice restricted his blood flow, slowing his circulation.

As she watched the act in utter awe, Vanessa whispered, “Oh, God...”

Hazel snickered as she examined the cut. She saw white, red, and brown inside of the gash. Bones? Ligaments?–she wasn't sure, but she liked the colors. She allowed his left foot to hit the floor, then she repeated the process on his right foot.

As she cut him, she said, “Ice usually helps with certain injuries. It reduces pain and inflammation. It can make you numb to the world. You're not supposed to ice an injury for more than fifteen minutes, though. If you do, it'll cause ice burns or even frostbite. It's worse on your hands and feet because they're, you know, susceptible to frostbite.”

“I can't feel anything,” Jackson said, his voice breaking.

“I know, hun, I know.

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