The Psychopath Maker

It's All Fun and Games Until...

Author's Note

In celebration of Amazon Prime Video's newest series Panic, I am thrilled to be teaming up with Amazon Prime Video and Wattpad to write this exclusive chapter that puts my characters from this story into the world of Panic!

I hope this chapter intrigues and inspires you to learn more about Panic. Visit the #PanicWritingContest on Wattpad for the chance to put your creative writing chops to the test and learn more about the show!

To find out more about the contest, prizes, and how to enter, check out the #PanicWritingContest here: wattpad.com/AmazonPrimeVideo

Don't forget to watch the series premiere on May 28th, only on Amazon Prime Video, here: http://primevideo.com/

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Sweat and whiskey cloaked the atmosphere of the cluttered threadbare shack, refusing Isabeth from receiving life's most essential substances. Oxygen. Her lips were sealed so tightly they lost their plumpness as her eyes were glued to Benny with his pointer finger against his mouth doing the same. As they crouched behind the raggedy couch, she cursed her bad life choice.

It was one thing to play a game. But to play a mysterious game, the locals called Panic; that was ludicrous. Then again, it was Faith's idea. One last hoorah before hopping on their private planes, flying out of Texas, and leaving that night at the asylum behind them.

It all started fun; Isabeth wasn't going to deny that. The first two challenges were thrilling, with just enough danger to make her adrenaline rush but tonight was different. Tonight the dark sky and air were heavy with fear and uncertainty. She wasn't sure if they'd be able to escape the house let alone get off The Spurlock Farm and her biggest worry was the location of her best friend. She got separated from Faith in the cornfield that was littered with traps and dead ends. She wanted to go look for her but Benny was dead set on not letting her hand go.

She began to silently say another prayer for Faith when the cry of bedsprings erased all dialects from her mind. Her hand fell from her mouth but it wasn't because of the man's big feet slapping the dusty floor. Although the living room was shrouded in darkness, she didn't need the moonlight to decipher what object Benny slipped out of his pocket. He'd been carrying it since they did what they did at the asylum that night during the storm. She didn't fault him for carrying a knife but now wasn't the time to use it. This man, whose house they were in to steal something as proof of their entry to show to the games judges, wasn't one of their psychopaths.

Isabeth vigorously shook her head but the look in his brown eyes and the decisiveness of his face told her he'd do whatever it took to ensure her safety.

Their gazes left one another as the man drug his foot across the drab wood floor grumbling as he entered the room.

"Every damn year. It's the same shit." He hissed making a racket as he looked for something that was out of their line of sight due to the lumpy couch keeping them hidden. "But not this year. This year someone's ass is getting some fire."

Twin clacks bounced off the walls and there was no more wondering what the man was looking for. His shotgun was locked and loaded and they were breaking and entering with a dash of trespassing. Her hand instinctively sought out Benny's and he gripped it tightly as she made peace with the fact that someone was going to greet the Grim Reaper tonight; she just hoped it wasn't going to be them. Their palms kissed as she shut her eyes and hoped for the best. There were hundreds of better places she could be; Jamaica, Belize, Maldives, The Philippines. Instead, she was here in another small Texas town about to face death, yet again.

Isabeth's mind went through all the four-letter words until a hard thud shook the floor.

"Ya'll can stand up now." The familiar, raspy voice cut through the pregnant silence.

Isabeth and Benny both sprung upright like two perfectly toasted Pop-Tarts. Her jaw dropped after she made her way from behind the couch taking in the sight of the limp man on the floor.

"Did you kill him?" She asked darting her eyes to Faith as Benny joined them on the tattered rug.

"He looks dead." Benny chirped, sliding his knife back in his pocket.

"Oh my gosh." Faith voiced with slight agitation. "He is not. I'm not you or you." She looked at Benny then to Isabeth then held up her stun-gun. "He's unconscious. Now, grab something so we can get off this treacherous farm before he wakes up."

Benny slyly grinned as Isabeth took a relieved breath and for the first time during their senior year they did just as Faith told without debating it. They grabbed evidence and scurried out the house, off the farm, and back to safety; well until the next round that is.