Linda’s stomach tensed as the cameras cut on Tristan’s final word.
“Shit,” Charity muttered, but this time Linda didn’t ache to comfort her, too preoccupied with thoughts of elimination. She didn’t love Tristan, but the thought of her new life formed a blank expanse ahead. She should be excited about the idea that he might draw that red X across her photo, that she might leave the manor and its awful smells and weird noises, but as the prospect hit her for the first time, her heart skipped a beat. If she went home now, Deja would have to give her what was promised: a clean slate. But she had never been without the skeletons in her closet. They had become like old friends, an excuse to remain rooted and refuse forward momentum. Going home meant a reckoning with herself. Her palms sweated.
Sabrina chewed her fingers, probably more nervous about the ceremony then the rappel, while Marion preened in preparation for the challenge.
As Tristan chatted with Jazz, Deja ushered each contestant into a makeshift confessional to record their impressions on the challenge ahead. Linda took her seat and tried not to let the goosebumps all over her arms give her away.
“Scared?” Deja said. She held out a shot and winked. “Need some liquid courage?”
“You know I don’t,” Linda said.
Deja pursed her lips. She knew both the power of silence and the benefit of a well-timed nudge.
“I’m a little scared,” Linda said, deciding to give her something. “I’m not an active person.”
Deja grinned. “Now I know that isn’t true. You went on a lot of camping trips as a kid.”
The color drained from Linda’s face. Here she was again: facing Deja’s attempts to make her spill, when Deja had promised not to go there. It made Linda mad, but she remembered the harm that anger could cause. Never again.
“That’s right, but it was so long ago.” Linda forced herself to shrug. “The muscles lose their memory.”
“Do they, though?” Deja said. “I’m not so sure.”
“I’m a different person now,” Linda said.
“Of course, you are.” Deja let her smile diminish. “You’ve been through so much. Your family. The depression that kept you from working for so many years, racking up all that bad credit. Your divorce.”
Linda tapped her finger on her hand, hoping the kinetic movement would keep her from lashing out. “I’ve been through a lot, which is why I know I can handle this challenge.” She cocked her head and smiled with only her lips. She wasn’t about to slip up. The show had stolen her divorce and made it their own, and she was willing to pay that price, but anything else negated Deja’s promise. A clean start. A new road.
“Do you expect to be the one sent home tonight?” Deja said, sighing as Linda refused to say more.
Linda swallowed once, then pushed the fear she’d let enter her back down where it belonged. “No,” Linda said. “He’ll pick me.”
“Good girl.” Deja looked out from behind the camera. “That’s the spirit.”
• • •
As Linda stood, waiting for the confessionals to wrap, the air changed beside her. Charity stepped into her range of recognition. Linda softened to see her there.
“Be glad not to do those anymore,” Charity said.
“The confessionals?” Linda said.
“Yeah.” Charity fluffed her hair, which had fallen flat from humidity. The air near the manor smelled of rain. “Deja can go fuck herself.”
“I wish she would. She might be more pleasant.”
“There’s something creepy about her, yeah?” Charity peered over to where Deja interrogated Sabrina.
“She’s from LA.” Linda shrugged.
“I’m from LA, remember?” Charity crossed her arms.
Linda laughed nervously. “Must be why you’re creepy, too.”
Charity playfully pushed her. Where Charity’s hand touched her, Linda’s skin, even beneath the clothes, blazed.
“Why are you talking to me all of a sudden?”
Now it was Charity who shrugged. “Guess I stopped caring.”
“I thought you were one of the contestants who aren’t here to make friends.”
“I’m not.” Charity smirked. “I’m not trying to make…friends.”
Linda flushed, then hurried to change the subject. “Are you really scared of heights?” She looked up at the top of the manor with its backdrop of gentle mountains.
“I am.”
Linda grinned at her. “Guess I’m beating you in the challenge today.”
As Charity frowned, Linda regretted her words. “Guess so.”
• • •
The stairwell was located on the west side of the manor. To get to it, Tristan led the contestants through a kitchen with uneven wood floors and a wet stench, then through a long hall of closed doors, to an archway with the stairs visible through it, anchored to concrete. The stairs were wrought iron, a spiral that reached above the contestants’ heads. Linda stared up at the winding steps and the endless darkness and shivered.
“I’ll go first,” Sabrina said, pressing her foot onto the first stair. “Feels sturdy to me.”
