I shoot her a heated glare and she smiles innocently at me.
"No thank you," I say to him as politely as possible, but he just keeps walking down the driveway, me in tow because I want my bag back.
"Olivia. Be real." He stops and turns his attention to me, forcing me to run into his body. He waves his hand in the direction of the car behind me. "That beat up little car isn't going to make it off this mountain before the snow hits. And even if it does, you won’t make it back. You know you're not going anywhere." He doesn't say it in a demanding or controlling way. His tone is sincere and he's only speaking matter-of-factly.
And he's right. I'm just too stubborn to care.
"Then I'll stay home." I throw up my hands in defeat only causing Jensen to smirk at me. Sure, I’m putting on a bit of a show, but I’m dangerously close to admitting that I’ve wanted to go to the Pines all along. And him forcing me might just be the very reason I give in.
“You have a few options,” he tells me as he reaches for my face once more, and I almost dodge it, but instead I let him cradle my cheek as I wait for him to speak.
“And what would those options be?” I ask, tilting my head.
“Either get in that car and risk getting stuck one way or the other,” he starts as he drops his hand. “Or you can stay in town and be forced to face all the old town drunks for the whole weekend while the rest of your friends are up in the Pines enjoying Halloween.” He pauses for a second to smile at me before continuing. “Or you can come with us. And don’t think that I’m above picking your ass up and dragging you over my shoulder all the way up that mountain, Liv, because I fucking will.” He quips and I have to hide my indifference at his playful words.
I inhale a deep, cold breath of air, allowing it to fill my lungs rather uncomfortably before letting it go. I know that if I really want to rid myself of this suffocating feeling of pain and grief and guilt and heartache, I’m going to have to face it. When I leave this town, I don't want to feel the burden of the past to haunt me along with the accompanying overpowering emptiness looming over my head. I want to try and remember. I want to move on. I want closure.
Besides, not only have I been trying to fool everyone that I don’t want to go, I’ve been trying—and failing—to even convince myself. But the truth is, I know I should go. I want to. And I can’t explain why, but I know this is my chance to let the inevitable take its course.
"Okay," I say. Plain and simple.
"Okay?" Jensen's comforting timbre reaches an excited tone.
"Okay,” I repeat and without another moment, another thought, or another chance for me to back out, he pulls me along to the SUV. He opens the back door for me to slide in and hands me my bag.
I was disrupting my family and this whole town simply because I refused to attend some silly town tradition. This year, I’m going to disrupt it by going.
Thriller Nights Weekend.
Here I come.
5
OLIVIA
“I got this feeling … a weird feeling.” — Alex Browning, Final Destination (2000)
My heart feels like it’s bleeding out with every minute we drive up the pass and into the Pines. Memories of the day it was my brother and I doing the very same thing four years ago fill my head, tormenting me in cruel ways. But halfway up, I decide that I have to leave most of my hollowness behind me. If I have any chance of wanting closure or maybe even just to try and experience a semblance of a normal weekend, I need to let go of the pain that shadows over me from that night. I need to believe that this weekend will mend what is broken inside me. Morbid realities or unnatural desires. Along with the pain and the suffering, maybe even filling the void of lost memories. But either way, I just need it all to vanish and disappear forever or simply make sense and patch me back up.
Luckily, Alli proves to be a great distraction. She’s jamming out and singingI Hate Everything About Youby Three Days Grace, not a care in the world, and I can’t help but to chuckle at her as I turn to face out my own window, watching as the sky darkens. Eventually, we reach a dirt road, causing the tires to bump alongthe path before us as we make our way up the final stretch; waking a sleepy Jensen in the process. I can see the plot of old wood cabins, some darker in color than others, along with a gathering of people who must have arrived not long ago.
"We're here, we're here!" Alli unclasps her seatbelt and turns around in her seat as the SUV hits every minor bump in the dirt road, her smile wide and her eyes beaming and I can’t help but to feel the sliver of excitement that she’s experiencing, just as if it were my own. Just like I did the day I first came up.
Her Grandpop forbade her to ever participate in the Halloween tradition—a man with a head on his shoulders if you ask me. Alli lived with him most of her life, and even though I’ve known her just as long, I’m ashamed to admit that I never really asked her about her parents. But then he passed away last year, so I suppose now she’s free to do as she wishes. I can understand her excitement and part of me wants to celebrate that with her, but I can only assume that she doesn’t have the sickening feelings embedded in her brain like I do, so any modicum of joy I feel for her doesn’t last very long.
Jensen reaches over and squeezes my thigh, probably assuming apprehension and attempting to calm my nerves. But despite what he or anyone else might think I'm going through right now, they have it all wrong.
I’m not thinking of the potential of the pain that can be brought on by an onslaught of forgotten memories pummeling me, or the nerves I feel as I realize that this is really happening.
No. Instead, I'm thinking ofhim.
I turn and aim a warm smile at Jensen, trying my best to be as accepting of his kindness and as convincing of my well-being as possible. But a chill runs down my spine when I feel that eerily familiar burn on my skin, almost likehe'swatching me right now.
Reminders of what I saw last night now take over my thoughts and I shiver. I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to see him. Or maybe he’ll want to avoid me like I want to avoid him.
My body has always reacted this way; whenever I feel like I’m on fire, it’s because he’s watching. But as I scan the surrounding area from inside of the car, I don’t see anyone particularly staring at me. Not yet anyway.
The car comes to a stop and I shake the thoughts as I step out. But I make the stupid mistake of looking for the infamous welcome sign.
