HAVE YOU EVER seen something so horrific that you just froze? Become so totally stunned to the point of mind blankness?

That's what just happened to me when I stared into my dead mother's face. Everything around me became slow moving as her fingers let the curtain fall behind her, and she walked forward.

Her thick ringlet hair draped her shoulder, and her dark eyes never left mine. I stared at her, seeing a slight reflection of myself that made my stomach jump, and my fingers clench.

The wrongest thing about this wasn't that she was here, but that it wasn't her.

Pulling on my happy memories, an image of my mother filtered through, reminding me of her beauty and grace, something that couldn't be manufactured.

This in front of me was a realistic mask, something out of Pretty Little Liars. A great likeness with  intricate details, but a crack in the cheek revealed the artificial materials.

The masked figure sauntered forward, wearing the same clothing my mother wore the last time I saw her — a dark blue nightgown and a rose-colored robe with fluffy slippers.

The height was off, too tall for my mother who was short like me. But everything else? Spot on. The rich, exotic aroma of her eau de toilette perfume glazed the minimalistic atmosphere, tickling my nostrils until a savage remembrance encased my mind.

"Come here, hunny-bun." My mother smiled, pulling me into her lap on the bench. She turned my head until I stared at my six-year-old self in the vanity oval mirror. "You're so beautiful, hunny."

"Like you, mommy?"

She grinned. "Just like me." Her hand picked up a golden comb, and she started to work it through my curls before she started to braid. Her dainty voice sang a low-pitched tune as she worked.

I closed my eyes, loving the sound of her voice.

A raspy breath scratched my throat as the memory ended, and I stared into the eyes of that creepy mask again.

They were fucking with me. Jookie and whoever was running this shit show was just trying to mind fuck me. I was the stupid one to believe I'd get real answers when they just murdered people in front of me. These people were vicious and out for high ratings, and my pain and past were the keys to that.

The masked figure glided toward me. "Betinia," the voice whispered through the mask, lips never moving because it was nothing but paint.

"Stay away from me," I said, moving backward.

"I'm your mother," the masked figure whispered.

"No. You're not," I said.

"Yes," the masked figure whispered.

"My mother is dead," I said.

"Am I?" The masked figure whispered.

The masked figure slid their hand inside the robe pocket and presented something to me in their palm. An old soda cap wallet rested there. It took me a second to realize what I was staring at, and then it hit me.

I made that for my mother on her birthday one year. She carried it everywhere, totally in love with it.

How the hell did they get it? How did they even know? My mind started to tick, searching for a conclusion or an answer, but I came back with nothing except one conclusion. Was it really my mother? Was she back?

No. It couldn't fucking be her. She was dead. Dead. It was all over the media and news outlets. I went to the funeral and saw the coffin. I watched them put her in the ground.

She was dead. She had to be.

The masked figure tossed the wallet at me, and I let it hit me in the shoulder. It stung. My heart ordered me to run from the room and never look back, but my mind and my curiosity ate at me like flies on a corpse.

Eyes never leaving the non-moving figure, I dropped the brain stem on the floor and leaned down, picking up the wallet. Rust eroded away the bottle caps, leaving it weak and almost falling apart.

Inside the wallet was my mother's withered license, old credit cards and a wallet-size family portrait, similar to the one I saw earlier in the dark room. It was wilted with age and bent.

This couldn't be happening. How did they get all this? Nothing made sense.

The walls of my brain began to cave in, and I couldn't breathe.

"Panic is the enemy," Tim said in my head. "Stay focused."

How could I? None of this made sense. I searched my brain for an answer. No. It did make sense. The reality show  forged all of this and was trying to fuck with my mind and make me lose it.

"Daughter," the masked figure whispered, walking toward me. "Come."

My back shot against the wall, looking for some stability because everything went numb. "Stay back."

"Mommy's back," the masked figure whispered.

"Shut up," I screeched, clutching the wallet. My mind didn't want to hear anything else. I just wanted her to go away. The numbness was getting worse.

"Hunny-bun," the masked figure whispered, gliding closer to me. Too close. The intense perfume smacked me in the face, creating a nauseous feeling within me.

"It's me," the masked figure whispered. "I've come to take you home."

No. This wasn't her. This was all for television.

"Stay back," I said, grinding my teeth. "Now."

The masked figure didn't listen and just chuckled before coming closer. Only feet away.

Clenching my fists, my body arched into an offensive stance, a pose Tim instilled in me for years. I wouldn't let them get a rise out of me. Not again.

"Come closer, and I will fucking hurt you," I snapped, feeling a shift in myself. "I mean it."

The masked figure cackled at me and tilted their head to the side. The dark painted eyes leered, challenging me to cower at their presence.

I didn't. So the figure took a step closer.

My arm swung up, ready.

Still facing me, the masked figure laughed in response and backpedaled. Pushing aside the curtain to reveal a metal doorway, the masked figure caressed the metal before smacking it.

I flinched at the noise.

The masked figure cackled, coming out like a hiss. Then the figure lunged at me.

I jerked back, smashing into the wall.

The masked figure belted out a long, condescending laugh. And then, with a sudden jerk, the figure banged their head into the wall. Three times before cracking the mask, and one more before it crumbled.

Thick pieces of plaster tumbled to the ground, mixing with a powdery smoke. My mother's face was gone.

The figure turned toward the curtains, walking through them, never showing me their true face. A curly wig shot through the curtains next, flopping onto the floor into a hairy puddle.

The door burst open, and Jookie waltzed through with a giant grin. He knew this whole time that they were going to fuck with me. That's why he was so darn happy earlier.

He clapped his hands together. "How's my little, Princess Peach?"

Silent, I stormed past him, wanting to escape the room and never see it again. The fresh air of the hallway hit me, letting me breathe again.

The other contestants lounged around in the hallway with varied expressions, but I didn't read too much into them. I knew they saw what happened. A television hung on the side wall, displaying a live feed of the room I just left.

Embarrassment and shame filtered through my senses, but those feelings didn't last long because Jookie snatched me up.

He flung me against the wall with ease, sharp pain skirting up my spine. I winced and released a puff of air. His body pressed against mine, keeping it in place on the wall. My boots dangled off the floor.

Jookie pouted his lips. "You're being rude, my sweet delicious peach."

Tini shifted to the surface. "Fuck you."

Pure ecstasy teetered over his features before he sighed. "Ooh, there's, my little spicy peach."

"You lied," I said, ignoring his stupid nickname.

His fingers brushed at my curls before sliding down my cheek. "You didn't enjoy meeting with mommy?"

"That wasn't her," I said, anger still in my tone.

He zoomed in close, inches away from my face. The intensity of his eyes made me shiver for a second, causing Betinia to slip through alone. "It wasn't?" he asked.

"She's dead," I whispered, feeling my adrenaline plummet. She had to be dead. No. She was dead.

His tongue lashed out, tasting the blood on my cheek. "Is she?"

"Yes," I answered, but a part of my soul wasn't sure.

He suddenly dropped me to my feet and giggled. "Probably. Maybe. Who knows?" He shrugged. "The game's just starting, my spicy peach. You're going to see that family ties run deep here — in many people." Twirling around to face everyone else, he smiled. "Let's go, kiddos. Time to see your new home."

♟♙♟