Half of her body is hanging out of it when matching screams echo from outside.The muffledRun!that follows them freezes me in place on top of the counter, my hands gripping the bottom of her thighs as my heart leaps up into my throat.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“Jamie?”
Her head is so far into the vent she probably didn’t hear the sounds, but from the way her body tenses, she definitely heard me.I know her so well that even though her ass is in my face I can visualize the panic on hers.It’s only when I hear a dull thud, a pained grunt, that squelching sound that is starting to sound too familiar, that I push with renewed vigor.What if Heart Eyes comes in here and sees her escaping?What if I can’t stop him from getting to her?
“Laurie, don’t stop.”
She starts to shimmy the top half of her body farther into the vent, picking up on my urgency.As expected, her upper-body strength works in her favor, as does the slippery silk of her jumpsuit, and she slides easily across the metal with very little assistance from me.Her feet are in my face when I stick my head into the vent after her.It’s dusty, dank, and I can see it isn’t completely smooth like I thought.There are jagged edges jutting out from where the sections of the vent are welded together, and while I can hear her hiss in pain, she doesn’t stop.She can’t.
“You’re going to get out of here and get help, okay?”
I don’t know whose benefit I’m saying that for, but I pull my shaking fingers from the painted plastic that leaves blood-like stains on my hands and reach down to the counter for something to use as self-defense against whatever—whoeveris outside.Bypassing the abandoned corkscrews and grabbing Laurie’s shoes, I pull them toward me, almost toppling off the counter for my efforts.I wait until she’s moving more easily through the vent before I push the cover back in place, wincing at the high-pitched squeal of the hinges.Laurie’s feet disappear into the darkness as I peer through the thin slats of the cover, needing to make sure that whatever happens next, at least she has a chance.
“Jamie, please…Please!Jamie!Jamie!”
Her cries of my name turn into nonsensical pleas, echoing backout and sounding deafening to my ears, but then the desperate calls move farther away.
She’s getting away.
The realization draws a choked sob of relief from my throat that gets drowned out by the long groan of the bathroom door swinging open.
My entire body goes rigid against the wall as the room falls into a heavy, deadly silence.
Look behind you, Jamie.
For the first time tonight, there’s no screaming, no pounding pulse in my head, no sound of metal slicing through flesh.It feels almost like if Idon’tturn around—if I keep my eyes locked on the blood-red wall in front of me, then whoever is standing in the entrance of the bathroom doesn’t exist.If I don’t look, they can’t hurt me.
That’s not true, though.
Jamie, turn around.
I know what happens when you turn your back or close your eyes or curl up in a ball and wish you were somewhere else.
You don’t make it to the credits.
So that’s why I turn and face him.
Heart Eyes stands in the doorway, using a gloved hand to keep the door from swinging closed, but that still leaves the other free to hold the second meat cleaver I’ve seen tonight.This one, at least for now, is still an unmarked steel rectangle.And I can’t help but wonder what was used to make that sound before.Did he leave another weapon outside?
Did he leave itinsomeone outside?
That pink mask, bathed in the glow of the neon light, is just as terrifying up close.I still can’t see his eyes, but I don’t miss the way his head tilts up to see one of my hands still pressed against the vent.It must look like I’m trying to take the cover off for myself.At leastI hope that’s what it looks like, and he has no idea Laurie is army-crawling her way farther and farther from this lovesick asshole.Farther and farther away from being another one of his victims.
I need to draw his attention away from her escape route.Away from the scratches around the edges of the vent that look like claw marks cutting through the red paint and revealing the brushed metal underneath.So I jump down from the sink counter, a dull ache throbbing in my feet as I straighten, keeping my eyes on him the whole time.
He doesn’t move.He just stands there, Michael Myers still, and watches me.
I can’t say I have the same composure, my chest heaving, eyes darting across to the two corkscrews left on the countertop that couldn’t do shit anyway.I’m armed with nothing but an encyclopedic knowledge of this exact situation ending in bloodshed and a pair offuckingshoes, and—
The shoes.
I look down at them just as he takes a step forward, off the carpet and onto the tiles, his hand smoothing down the surface of the door when I glance back up at him again.
It’s a long shot.Something that would only be used for a moment of comic relief within an actual slasher.An absolute fluke completely reliant on my pitching skills, which haven’t been required since my high school softball days.Batting was always my strong suit anyway.Regardless, as he takes another step forward and the door swings closed behind him, I wrench my arm back and hurl Laurie’s shoes at his head.
The shoes fly across the space between us, the heels aimed straight for those heart-shaped holes.They almost meet their mark, smacking against his chin and eliciting a sound of pain that’s muffled by the closed zipper across his mouth and—Holy shit, itactuallyworked.
