How trite. But … yes. A game. Of course! Well, this will be much easier than it should be. Usually it takes time, you see. To separate them. You know, one uses a bathroom. One wants to explore a place the others don’t dare. Two will sneak off for a fuck. One time? Three boys locked a fourth boy in the cellar. As a joke. When they let him out, I was already working him from the inside. The revenge was so sweet that the boy I’d taken over wasn’t even upset. He was cheering me on, the rascal.
But this? This is a much more civil way to go about it. Yes, this will be a very pleasant way of doing things.
“I know what to play,” I say, doing my best to look eager, to sway them. “Let’s play Hide and Seek.”
As soon as I say it, I’m prepared for the pervert boy’s predictable argument. His need for male dominance.
“That’s a kid’s game,” he says, probably hoping someone mentions Spin the Bottle. Not unheard of … but no, not tonight. Not while I’m playing.
“You scared?” I say, turning toward him. When he meets my eyes, I show him just a glimpse of the real me. Just enough to give him a goosebump or two. Enough to let him know who’s in fucking charge here.
“No,” he says, and I relish the weakness in his voice. The defeat. You’ll never play with your hand again, little one. And isn’t that just the saddest thing of all?
“ONE! TWO! THREE!”
The game is afoot now ….
“Four! Five! Six!”
Even encased in this flesh I still feel little feet tramping inside me, tickling my innards of stairs and hallways, touching my walls with dirty fingers, making me tingle with shameful anticipation.
“Seven! Eight! Nine!”
I feel your feet especially well, my luscious gumdrop. My love. Oh, I’m sorry. You want so badly to go into those rooms, but they’re all locked. Sealed tight. Trickery, on my part, leading you like this. Steering you.
The other boy, up the stairs you go. I’ll be with you shortly.
And finally, my poor, abused young lady. I’m sorry, but it’s down into the cellar with you. The only path I’ve left open.
But you, my angel, you just keep going down that hallway. Yes… keep going and you’ll find the closet at the end.
My special closet.
Inside now, inside! Lovely.
“Ten!”
I open my eyes. The eyes of the boy they call Brad, who is weeping, weeping deep inside me; sobbing for his mother, wanting out, wanting to go home! Every now and then he’ll begin to shriek deliriously.
Ah, it’s music.
Worry not, boy. It will soon be over.
For all of you.
“Ready or not!” I yell, unable to contain my glee. “Here I come!”
AS PROMISED, I START WITH the lustful boy. Frankly, I don’t appreciate the way he thinks about you. It’s not respectful. Not decent.
You’re worth so much more than your skin.
I reach the top of the stairs, enter the upper hallway. I feel his heart pumping, pumping above my head.
The attic.
I sense his breathing, feel it mixing with my own stale air. To give you a comparison, for you it might feel as if a small mouse were scurrying about inside your chest, tickling your ribs, nibbling at your heart. Sucking your oxygen.
I’d let the attic ladder drop, of course. I knew the enticement of that mysterious black square in the ceiling would hook him. That one craves isolation. He enjoys the dark. I knew he wouldn’t fear spiders or their webs, worry about drooling ghouls hunched in shadowed corners.
And so … up, up, up he went ….
Damn the distraction! The boy’s mind—that of our new friend Brad—is growing distant. This isn’t a good thing. It will be much harder to keep myself hidden within the flesh once he’s gone, his working consciousness a necessary ingredient to keep up the charade. To help keep things … cohesive.
Still, there’s time enough.
But we mustn’t dilly-dally.
I take a step toward the ladder, look up toward the opening with Brad’s eyes. With a thought, the ladder folds upward, the door to which it’s bolted swings up into the ceiling, neatly. Silently. It won’t move again, not unless I want it to.
“Hey!”
“Where are yooouuu?” I yell loudly in a playful singsong, mostly to cover his protestations. Not that the others could hear him. Not that they could do anything about it if they did. But still. Decorum.
“Hey! Let me out!”
