I Dare You

It wasn’t easy for Mark to talk about the night that his brother, Edward, went missing. He still felt responsible, in a lot of ways, and he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. They never said it. They didn’t have to. The weight of blame was heavy upon his shoulders, heaped on by the secret thoughts of his parents, teachers, and friends . . . he just knew it. He sensed their scorn. Even though he wasn’t the only one there, the only one baiting Eddy, he took the blame because he was his older brother. He was supposed to have protected him. Instead, he had put him in harm’s way.

Little more than 2 months had passed since Mark and a small group of friends had invited Eddy to play a game of Truth or Dare with them. It was the first week of summer break and, as embers glowed in the fire pit on the back patio of Tyler Brown’s house, the friends sat in a circle, drinking contraband wine coolers and trying way too hard to impress each other.

“Alright, Eddy, you’re up,” Tyler said, taking an unnecessarily long drag off of his Swisher Sweet cigar. “Truth . . . or dare?”

“Dare.”

The group fell silent and looked at him like he’d just signed his own death warrant. Who would choose dare? Dare was an option that only people who desperately didn’t want to tell their secrets would take. It was a last resort, a no-other-choice move. No one chose dare. Dare was universally used as a penance for being a wiener.

“Dare it is,” Tyler said.

“Wait, wait, wait. I got this one,” Mark said, smiling.

Eddy knew it was going to be something bad when his older brother had volunteered to be the one to hand out the dare. He could tell by the smirk on his face. What Mark wasn’t counting on was that he had hoped it was bad. He had something to prove. The next year would be his first year of high school and if he didn’t want to be pushed around all year, he had to show these guys that he had nerves of steel.

“I dare you,” Mark said, with a dramatic pause. “I dare you to . . . run to Penelope Skaggs’ house, in your underwear, ring the doorbell, do the Cha-Cha on her front porch, and run back.”

The group roared with laughter. Penelope Skaggs was the hottest, most popular cheerleader at Cottonwood High School. It would be social suicide.

Pete Wilkins shouted, “Dude, I will pay you, if you do that!” They were all doubled over, trying to catch their breath, as Eddy disrobed.

“He’s gonna’ do it?!” Tyler couldn’t believe his eyes. Most people patently refused to do whatever horribly embarrassing dare was thrown at them, either quitting the game in frustration or simply leaving.  “He’s actually gonna do it!!”

“Eddy, wait,” Mark started, but it was too late. He had broken into a run, towards the Skaggs home, a mile and a half from town. It was the last time anyone had seen or heard from him.

Mark hated telling that story. The fact that he was repeating it to his therapist agitated him. He hoped it would be the last time, but he knew that it wouldn’t. They were always looking for more. The therapists, the detectives, the reporters – they all thought that he was withholding some critical piece of information that would break the case wide open.

According to all accounts, Eddy had never made it to the Skaggs’ house, that night. After an hour had passed, Mark and his friends had gotten in their cars and gone out looking for him. By dawn, the entire small town had formed one large search party. Not a trace was found.

It never would be.

Eddy’s entire body screamed out in agony from the cutting of piano wire into his tender flesh. He had been hanging by it, from the ceiling, for days. The wire was wrapped tightly around his wrists and chest. He could no longer feel his hands. He wasn’t entirely sure that he even had hands, anymore. The acid that had been injected into his eyes weeks ago had done its job of eating away his vision. It was impossible for him to tell what was what in this mad hell house.

He heard a familiar sound, making its way down the hallway of his prison - the foreign shack that he’d awoken in, out of a drug-induced stupor. The last thing that he remembered was being seduced by Penelope Skaggs.

Thump, thump, thump.

His heart began to race. The footfalls were getting closer and that meant another round of unimaginable torture. God, please. No.

The door squeaked open.

“Give me an E! Give me Double D’s! Give me a Y God is this happening to me? What’s that spell? EDDY!” Penelope broke into a high-pitched titter.

“Morning! What’s the matter, Eduardo? Cat got your tongue?”

After his eye treatment, she had poured a small amount of some corrosive material - he wasn’t sure, but he’d thought that it was drain cleaner – down his throat. He could no longer speak and his screams came out only as whispers.

“Aww,” she condescended. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

He could hear metal clinking together, like someone rifling through a toolbox.

“Brady was cute, too. Do you remember Brady? From Edgemore? Well, maybe you two didn’t hang out in the same circles,” she casually conversed.  “Anyway,  I made the most adorable little earrings out of his pinky bones. Everyone wanted to know where they could get a pair.” She laughed, impressed with her own ingenuity.

“Now, hold still. This will only hurt for a few days.”

A soft whisper escaped Eddy’s lips as the bones in his finger, still very much attached to his body, crunched between the cold, steel teeth of pliers.



Word Count: 993