Or I could abandon it all—for happiness.
Why did both ideas make me uneasy?
I went to bed, shutting off lights and checking locks as I moved through the house. I drifted to my mother’s old bedroom, my current room. I paused, staring at the spot where Glenn had thrown up and died.
What a shame. We could have saved him and my carpet if he hadn’t been such a pig.
As I lay in bed, preparing to fall asleep, my phone chimed. I knew who it was before checking, but still, I reached over and read the message.
Psycho Killer: Whatever happens tomorrow, just know... I was watchingThe Exorcist.
I set my phone down, wishing I could respond. I closed my eyes. The reply I couldn’t type danced on my lips in a heavenly sigh. One day, in person, I’d finish the quote and truly tell him how I felt.
Oh, Sebastian, it got me thinking of you.
Chapter 64
Evie
The Sequel
“Groovy.”
I stood with Sebastian as we sipped Red Bulls and waited patiently to step onto the set. We’d just gotten the fire safety speech and were watching as the professionals went around, lighting various props on fire. We chatted and pretended as if it were just another day.
“Tropical?” Sebastian tilted his blue can my way, and I lifted my yellow one.
“They’ve grown on me.”
“Yeah, I use it to manage my ADHD.” He shrugged.
“You have ADHD?”
“Who doesn’t?” He smirked. “I tried the meds when I was younger. Wasn’t a fan. I found ingesting a fuck-ton of caffeine does the trick.”
I wondered if that was why my brain felt so clear lately. My thoughts weren’t as jumbled. I’d grown fond of the caffeinated drinks.
“By the way, I learned something interesting. Dexter didn’t use a chainsaw. In the show, it was a reciprocating saw. No wonder there was so much...”
“Vomit?”
My stomach turned as the image of Sebastian waffle-stomping intestines into the drain while splashing both of our bile with each lift of his boot flashed in my memory.
“I guess we know for next time.” He cackled, and I looked up to see the edge of his lips twitching. He finished his drink and pushed off the wall, going over to Dante to chat. “I’ll see you later, Final Girl.”
I stared after him, my heart longing for words I couldn’t say.
Two figures pushing through a door just out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I turned. Fear slid down my spine as my eyes settled on two men in suits striding through, laughing and chatting excitedly.
Arthur Englund and Elliott Bradley.
What were they doing here?
Arthur saw me and nudged his friend. They stopped abruptly and turned my way. I stiffened and shoved down the nerves in my stomach.
“Well, there’s the Final Girl.” Arthur beamed.
Don’t call me that.
