by Laura Burton
“If a dystopian novel and fashion magazine had a baby, this is what it would look like.”
As my eyes scan the busy changing area I see all of us are wearing identical outfits. Ruth does not even smile at my remark. clearly, she does not appreciate my humour.
“I know this is all a game, but I have feelings for Tyrone,” Jody says to the other ladies.
“Really? You are so cute together. I can’t stand Luke. He’s a heavy breather. And it’s the most irritating noise I’ve ever heard.” The short girl from couple number five––I don’t even know her name–makes pig snort impressions, prompting a babble of laughter from the other women.
“You could say that me and Rob have been getting to know each other, very well.” The ginger says with a nod and a wink. One woman wolf whistles at her.
“Ladies, when you’re ready please make your way to the green room.” Julian is back. Well, I guess it’s Julian by the sound of his voice. All I can see is his clipboard poking out from one of the modesty screens.
I turn to Ruth.
“Am I ready?” I ask. My breath catches in my chest as a bubble of nerves rises to the surface. Something about wearing this outfit has my imagination running wild. What will we encounter in the maze? Could we die? If we don’t succeed at this, Ronan’s mum will die. As the reality sinks in, panic takes hold. Ruth takes a black bangle and forces it onto my wrist before she gives me a nod.
“Go get ‘em tiger,” she says, clapping me on the arm. I turn and walk as if on autopilot, trying to ignore the hushed women who stare at me with disgust. Their glares burning into my back as I leave.
“You can do this,” I whisper to myself. Forcing one foot in front of the other. As I reach the door to the green room, I’m certain my complexion matches the name. I hope I don’t throw up all over my dress.
“Hey beautiful––oh wow.” Ronan’s voice loosens the knots in my stomach enough to allow me to enter the room more fully. My eyes scan the busy room, filled with men and settle on Ronan, standing by the coffee machine. My jaw drops.
He’s wearing the tightest pair of black jeans I’ve ever seen. With black cowboy boots. Every muscle and sinew is on show, as his silver top sits like a second layer of skin. It has a black shine to it, and a silver band sits on his right bicep. All he needs is an axe or a crossbow and he would look like the hero in an action movie. My eyes meet his, and I notice he’s been taking in my appearance as well. His mouth hangs open and his eyes are so dark, he stands like a predator checking out its prey.
I’m not entirely sure if I’m safe to approach him.
“I know,” I say through a laugh to cut the tension in the room. “I look ridiculous, right?” I twirl on the spot and turn back to see all eyes are now on me. No one speaks.
After an awkward amount of time passes, where I stand like a fool in the doorway and Ronan––along with the rest of the males in the room––gawps at me in silence, I fix a drink.
“Wow,” Ronan says again as I approach him. “You just took my breath away.”
It’s cheesy. And a perfect thing to say if the cameras were rolling. It’s moments like these that made me tune into the Love Trials. Sitting on the living room carpet, shouting at the TV as the couples battle it out on the show feels like a lifetime ago. I realise that even if all of this is fake, and nothing like past seasons, the viewers will love it.
I smile at Ronan and I’m just about to offer him a drink when the door bangs open and Julian’s voice catches my attention.
“We’ve got to get started. Tyrone, where is Jody?”
“She’s not ready yet.”
I turn back to see Julian standing in the doorway, his earpiece in and his face the shade of beetroot. Our eyes meet and his scowl settles into a look of resolve.
“You two come with me.”
Ronan takes my hand and for a moment I imagine us looking like the ultimate power couple in our crazy outfits. Standing in front of the men in the room.
“Ready?” he mutters to me quietly as we cross the room. I cannot speak but give a slight nod. Julian leads us down the corridor and out of the main entrance. He picks up his pace and I have to jog to keep up. Ronan’s long strides are bold and sure, while my heartbeat flutters faster than the wings of a hummingbird. We pass my car, and the thornbush where Ronan and I met for the first time. Ronan’s hand gives me a squeeze, he’s thinking about it too.
Julian does not strike up a friendly conversation. I’m grateful, because if I open my mouth and try to speak I’m sure my breakfast will make a spectacular reappearance all over his white shirt.
We round the corner and walk across a large field. Goosebumps rise on my arms as the highland winds sweep across our path. All of my senses are buzzing now and I’m drowning in adrenaline. We finally meet Jewel and the camera crew, all set up and ready for us. She stands outside a large green hedge maze. It looks innocent enough. Nothing spectacular. Just a normal maze, like the ones I used to play in as a kid. But my stomach continues to do backflips.
“Welcome back Melissa and Ronan,” Jewel says officially as we approach. Now I know she’s Ronan’s aunt, I survey her more closely. Not able to detect any family resemblance. And her eyes give nothing away. She barely glances at him but looks keenly in my direction.
“We’ll begin filming shortly. Now, I’ll ask about your trip. Keep it short and sweet. Then I’ll tell you about the challenge. Questions?”
Before I can open my mouth, Julian barges forward and wipes his sweaty brow with his forearm.
“Now listen, there’s camera equipment in there worth more than a house. Do not damage it.”
He steps aside and holds his fingers up to the crew as he does the all-too-familiar count down.
“Three-two––”
Here we go. Show time.
“Ronan. Melissa. It’s great to have you back at the castle. Tell us about your trip,” Jewel says, perfectly on cue.
“It was a dream,” I gush, resting my hand on Ronan’s pectorals, they stiffen under my touch.
“We had an amazing time, thank you,” Ronan says, resting his hand on mine. Jewel inclines her head at us before smiling at the main camera.
“Before we begin the challenge, here’s what Ronan and Melissa got up to during their romantic getaway.”
Click. Jewel takes a breath and pulls out a white handkerchief. She dabs her upper lip and brow and carefully places the handkerchief back in a hidden pocket of her black dress. Julian counts down again.
“Now it’s time for your second challenge. This is the Garden Maze.” Jewel pauses for the dramatic music they’ll inevitably add in post-production. “This one will test your love to the very limit and if you are unsuccessful, you will be evicted from the castle and out of the contest.” Another pause and my stomach lurches. We can’t rely on votes now. If Ronan and I fail, we’re out. And it’s all over.
“All you have to do is reach the center of the maze within thirty minutes.”
That’s not so bad. I’m good with puzzles and mazes. After the nail-biting room escape challenge, this will be a walk in a park. Or maze, rather.
“That is not all,” Jewel adds, raising her finger. “The maze is full of booby traps at every corner. So be careful where you step. Work together and show the world why you two should be King and Queen of the Love Trials.”
Booby traps? I hope they’re things like buckets of goo being thrown on your head and not acid.
Just how serious are these traps?
“So, please get into position. Your time will begin as soon as you enter the maze.” Jewel coaxes us to stand on markers in front of the entrance. I hold on to Ronan’s hand as we stand strong and powerful. Shoulders squared, and heads held high.
“Do Ronan and Melissa have what it takes to prove true love? Or will masks come off and heads go rolling?”
What did she just say?
There’s no time to think as Ronan tugs on my hand and we stumble forward.
Walking
into the maze with a swirl of sickness in my stomach is a very surreal experience. I’m sure I did not sign up for this. Whatever happened to the beach trials? Where Ronan sits on a trap door and if I answer a question incorrectly, he falls into the pool? Why do we have to battle it out to prove our love? Is this what the millennial viewers demand?
“Right or left. What do you think?” Ronan’s question pulls me out of my thoughts and I realise we’ve walked to a fork without stepping into a trap. I glance back and can no longer see the entrance of the maze. The path to the left looks innocent enough, but the right path looks equally ordinary.
“Toss a coin?” I ask with a shrug. Ronan’s brushy brows raise so high they disappear into his hair.
“Really? You want to leave it up to luck?”
“Luck has got us pretty far don’t you think?”
My instincts tell me to turn right, but there’s no logical reason for it and if something happens to Ronan on my account, I don’t know if I can deal with it.
“I want to take this one,” Ronan points to the right path. Okay, we’re both on the same page. I nod and we tentatively walk forward. The gravel path twists and turns as it snakes around a bend and the two of us find overgrown hedges covering the path ahead.
“That looks dark,” Ronan says with a frown, rubbing his jaw. I peer into the black tunnel and cannot see even a glimmer of light.
“Shall we turn back?”
Ronan does not answer but bends down and pokes his head between my legs.
“What are you––” I blurt out as Ronan grasps my thighs and thrusts me into the air, with me sitting on his shoulders. I scramble to hold his arms and bite my lip as I look around.
“What do you see? Is there a path on the other side?” Ronan asks gruffly, staggering under my weight. I sit up and see the centre of the maze. It’s so close, if I only I could jump across the hedges, we’d be there in seconds.
“It’s clear ahead.” I rest my hands-on Ronan’s head as I crane my neck to check out the rest of the maze. “Once we’re out, we must take a left.” I do my best to take a mental picture of the layout.
Ronan carefully lowers me down and I brush my hands on my legs, catching my breath.
“Right, so I guess we just walk through the dark tunnel and hope for the best.” Ronan’s words do not fill me with hope. There could be anything in there. Giant spiders. Bear traps. Quicksand. And without the aid of sight to help us, we’ll be walking blindly into our doom.
“Take my hand and close your eyes.” Ronan holds out his hand and I give him a reproachful look.
“Close my eyes?” I repeat, unimpressed.
“Yes. Your other senses will be sharper if you close your eyes.”
I don’t argue, but I’m unconvinced. With only thirty minutes to complete the challenge, there’s no time to argue. As we walk forward, Ronan holds my hand gently and I take a deep steadying breath as I close my eyes.
Ronan is right. My ears prick up at the sound of crunching gravel beneath our feet. The rustling leaves in the wind. A bird sings in the distance. It’s… beautiful.
Suddenly, there’s rustle to my side and something slinks along my arm. It has me twist and jump away with a yelp.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Ronan whispers as we come to a stop.
“There’s something in the hedges,” I whisper back, rubbing my arm. We continue walking forward for a couple of minutes when Ronan grasps my waist and moves behind me. He lets out a short of air through his nostrils like a horse that has been spooked.
“What was that?” I ask. Ronan shushes me and hurries our pace.
“Stay in the middle of the path,” he urges as he presses his palms against my back.
Then I hear it.
A spine-tingling hiss.
I’m thrown back to my childhood and my brief stay with the Mortons—a foster family who bred snakes and reptiles. One night their teenage son snuck into my room while I was taking a shower. As I climbed into bed, a wriggle of movement by my feet sent me into a panic. Then a hiss followed, and I jumped out of that bed faster than you can say “bite me.” Apparently, Stephan’s idea of a fun pastime was terrorising the new foster kid. But I soon learned to throw a pillowcase over the snake’s head, and it calms right down.
“Don’t make any sudden moves,” I whisper to Ronan as we walk single file. He doesn’t respond but continues to move forward. A hiss from above sends us to our knees.
“I can see the light.” We shuffle forwards, spurred on by the daylight growing in the distance. The hedges seem to be closer together now, and claustrophobia is setting in. As my heart rate quickens, I take deep breaths to steady my nerves. Ronan is deathly quiet as he follows me and the two of us focus on the task at hand.
I reason that we’ll probably freak out about the snakes once we reach safety. What kind of freaky show is this? Who decides it would be a good idea to make a couple walk through a snake-infested tunnel? I only hope their bites are not deadly.
The path widens, and daylight blinds my eyes. Beautiful, glorious daylight. I rise to my feet and pat myself down, laughing to myself. Then I turn and look at Ronan, whose face is entirely free from colour. He stares at me looking ashen grey and his eyes flit to his shoulder at the black snake sitting there.
I raise my finger to my lips at him and stare at the inky black snake sweeping around Ronan’s neck, twisting and slinking around him like a scarf rippling in the wind. I act on pure instinct and pick up the skirt of my dress. It’s sewn into the bodice, and I pick at the stitching. It comes loose and without hesitation I rip the skirt away from the seam. Ronan’s eyes bulge as he watches me tie the ends to make a bag.
“Don’t move,” I say barely above a whisper. Ronan blinks hard, a pool of sweat appears across his brow and I clamp my jaw together as I watch the snake coiling around his neck. Slowly, I reach out with my hands inside the makeshift bag and hold my breath as I drape it over the snake’s head. It recoils and wriggles slowly. Ronan remains impossibly still. The snake’s head is now in the bag, but the body and tail remain comfortably wrapped around Ronan’s neck. I take a shaking finger and prod the body to move further into the bag. It flinches. I hold the scream in my mouth, avoiding Ronan’s panicked stare.
“Stop poking it,” Ronan says in a breathy voice. I glare at him.
“Just trust me, I’m dealing with it.” I set about sliding the snake’s body further into the bag while Ronan’s whole body shakes.
“Stop moving.” I give him a stern look and he stares back at me like I’ve got a gun pointed at his face. Finally, the rest of the tail drops into the bag and I grasp the ends to stop it from launching an attack.
“See? It’s fine. Now we’ll just let this guy out…” I ease the bag onto the ground near a hedge and step back gingerly. I turn to find Ronan bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing deeply.
“Did it bite you?” I ask. I hold my hand up to his clammy forehead and look at his neck. No bite marks.
“I––hate––snakes,” he says between breaths. I pat him between the shoulder blades.
“You did very well,” I say, trying not to sound patronising.
A loud drumbeat breaks the silence and Ronan and I look up at the sky.
“Fifteen minutes remaining,” A voice booms from the distance. A jolt of energy hits me.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing Ronan’s hand. We turn left and follow the winding path at top speed. As we round the corner Ronan stops dead in his tracks and I bump into his back with a grunt.
“What’s going… what the heck?” Ronan steps aside and I notice a black straight path leading to an iron gate. Only, there’s something strange about it. There’s a silky sheen on the surface, gleaming in the sunshine.
“There’s got to be a key somewhere,” he says pointing at the lock on the gate.
“Check the branches, it’ll be here somewhere,” Ronan says as he takes a step. Then, his foot sinks and becomes buried in black fluid.
/> “Is that oil?” I stoop down and inspect as Ronan jumps back onto the gravel path. He dips his fingers in the fluid and holds it to his nose.
“Yes. But it smells like gasoline.” His face turns grim.
“How deep do you think it is?” I ask.
Ronan shrugs and walks back into the oil. It rises to his knees.
“It’s not too bad,” he shouts back to me as he wades through the oil. I take a moment to steal some courage and follow him in. My feet slowly sink to solid ground as the oil envelopes my legs. It’s thick and the fumes overpower my nose. I bite my tongue to stop squealing and try to focus on looking for the key. Long minutes pass and Ronan and I are no closer to finding the key.
I shuffle my feet as I move to the other side when my right boot collides with something on the floor.
“Wait,” I shout. Ronan stops looking through the hedge and stares at me.
“Did you find something?” he asks, hurrying to me, oil sloshing side to side with his movements.
“I’m not sure, but there’s something under my boot.” I twist my foot and something hard moves to the side. “I think it might be the key.”
Ronan and I look down with raised brows and take a moment to consider it. We glance at each other, not sure who wants to reach down and retrieve it. I am just about to offer a game of rock, paper, scissors when a drumbeat knocks me back.
“Five minutes remaining,” a voice booms.
Ronan lunges to my feet and collapses to his knees, scrabbling for the key. I sense his hands fumbling with my boot and move my foot aside to allow him access. He rises to his feet in a fountain of oil brandishing an iron key. I take it, charging past him. Walking through oil is much like wading through mud. It laps at my thighs and pulls me in. Each step takes effort and I collapse against the iron gate, clutching the bars for dear life.
“Quick,” Ronan shouts from behind me. I take the oily key and ram it into the lock.
“It’s so slimy,” I complain as my fingers struggle to get enough grip to turn the key.
“Melissa. Please.” Ronan’s voice is desperate now. I set my jaw and wipe the key on the only clean part of my bodice. Then I reinsert it and turn. The lock clicks and I push the gate forward. It squeaks as the door swings open and Ronan and I stumble out onto the gravel path.
