Chapter 4

The lake house was already a madhouse.

Music blared so loud the floor vibrated. Bodies writhed in the dim, flashing lights. The air was thick with sweat, cheap perfume, and something else... something acrid.

Brad' s goons, Duke and a smaller, wiry guy named Skip, shoved me through the throng.

"Have fun, nerd!" Duke yelled over the din, pushing me towards a table laden with red plastic cups and a massive punch bowl.

The punch. It was a lurid, unnatural pink.

Just like I remembered from the rumors of my first life.

Kids were already chugging it down, their eyes glazed, their laughter too loud.

"Drink up, Alex!" a voice slurred. It was Tiffany, already flushed, a cup in her hand. "It's amazing!"

She tried to shove a cup at me.

"No thanks, Tiff," I said, backing away.

Brad appeared, a king surveying his chaotic domain. He clapped me on the shoulder.

"See? Isn't this better than coding?" He gestured to the punch. "My special recipe. Guaranteed to make you forget all your troubles."

He winked.

I needed evidence.

I pulled out my phone, trying to discreetly start a video recording. I angled it towards Brad, hoping to catch him bragging about the spiked punch.

"What's that, Alex?" Tiffany' s voice, sharp and suspicious. "Taking pictures? Are you trying to get us all in trouble?"

Before I could answer, Brad' s eyes narrowed. "What are you doing with that phone?"

Duke and Skip were on me in an instant.

"Give it here!" Duke snarled, wrestling the phone from my grasp.

"Hey! That's my property!"

"Not anymore," Brad said smoothly. "We can't have you documenting our good time. Tiffany, you were right to be suspicious."

Tiffany preened under his approval. "He's always been a weirdo, Brad."

"Lock him in the boathouse," Brad ordered. "Let him cool off. He can join the party when he learns to relax."

They dragged me out the back door, towards the dark shape of the boathouse by the lake.

The air was cooler here, but the sounds of the party were still deafening.

"This is insane!" I yelled. "You can't do this!"

"Sure we can," Duke grunted, shoving me inside. The place smelled of mildew and gasoline.

The heavy wooden door slammed shut. A key turned in the lock.

Darkness.

I pounded on the door. "Let me out!"

Only the thumping bass of the party music answered.

I sank to the floor, defeated.

Trapped. Again.

But this time, I knew what was coming.

The raid.

I had to hope that somehow, some way, an anonymous tip had still gotten through. Maybe one I' d tried to send before they caught me.

The sounds from the house grew wilder. Shouts, breaking glass, manic laughter.

This was it. The spiral.

And I was locked away, a helpless observer, just like they wanted.

My phone was gone. My evidence, gone.

Or was it? Maybe the recording had saved to the cloud before they took it. A slim hope.

All I could do now was wait.

Wait for the sirens.

Wait for the inevitable crash.