The Ritual

Prologue

PROLOGUE

She wasn’t so sure anymore.

                She had been so ready, so ready to finally prove herself, to prove to them that she was just as good as they were. Maybe even better. But then that adrenaline rush that had carried her high the whole way there—it was starting to fade, getting replaced with pure, unadulterated fear. She didn’t want to do this anymore. She wanted to go home.

                “You coming or what, new kid?” One of the students that was accompanying them, a sophomore, she was pretty sure, turned around and raised an eyebrow at her. That’s what they all called her, that “new kid”. She disliked it immediately, but she was smart enough to know not to complain.

                She had thought that college would be a fun experience, a new adventure. But now she knew that she had been wrong.

                As the lake came into view, she felt herself start to shiver. The students hurriedly made their way to the edge, where they already had everything set up. Half of the gadgets and pieces of machinery she didn’t even recognize, and her mind—the twisted, overactive imagination part of it—started to conjure up these things as instruments of torture.

                “Um, actually, I think I should be heading back,” she finally managed to squeak out, trying to back up. A girl appeared in front of her, her hair dyed cherry red and multiple piercings covering her pale face.

                “Oh, no you don’t.” The girl grinned, pushing her from behind. “You aren’t gonna back out now, are you? Not when the fun’s just beginning.”

                She swallowed, forcing her heart to stop beating ten times faster than usual. “Of course I—” Suddenly she felt her feet slide out from under her, and she gasped when she realized that they had come to the river, and everyone had stopped walking. Everyone but her.

                “Go ahead and go from a swim,” someone called out, and everyone laughed.

                She tried to scramble back up the slippery little hill, digging her fingers into the wet mud, feeling it get under her nails and between her fingers. But she looked up and saw a pair of scruffy black combat boots before her. Her gaze rose up until she looked into his face. The face that she had trusted. The face that she had cared about.

                “Hey, babe.” He grinned.

                She was too frightened to tell him what she actually wanted to say. “Help me, please!” She could feel her feet slipping.

                “Help?” He pretended to be thinking deeply about this. “Okay, yeah sure. I can do help.”

                He grabbed her by her hand and pulled her away from the edge of the hill, and she was just starting to feel the tiniest bit of relief, when she felt him begin to swing her.

                “What are you doing?” She screeched. “Let me go!” She realized too late her mistake, when she felt him let go of her arms. She felt herself fling through the air, and she didn’t even have any breath left to scream. She hit the cold, dirty water with a splash, and felt the breath get knocked out of her in a rush. She remembered from somewhere that you weren’t supposed to panic in drastic situations, but she began to fling her arms around and breathed in mouthful after mouthful of water. She felt herself begin to black out, and before she sank to the bottom, she could see his face, staring at her, no expression but cold, hard hatred.

                And then she saw nothing at all.