“You’re the only one with a reason to kill Tiffany. Maybe you finally woke up and realized she was a lying slut,” Michael said with a sneer.
“Don’t speak about her like that,” Jason snapped. He suddenly lunged for Michael, hands outstretched, revealing a righteous fury Carrie had never seen before.
Patrick stepped between them, yelling at them to stop. Michael poked a finger right into Patrick’s chest. Patrick shoved him back, which led to Jason roaring and pulling Patrick away from Michael. Patrick looked stricken for a second, and then his hands balled into fists.
Carrie’s therapist had said confrontation was healthy. But what the boys were doing was mere sniping. Wasting their energy trading blame while there was an axe murderer running loose. She’d have to listen to them bicker in this cellar forever if she didn’t do something.
Dragging Tiffany’s mutilated body out of the water had exhausted her, and all the shouting was hurting her head. She just wanted this all to be over. To finally leave this darned cabin and find safety. The cellar unsettled her. The cool temperature, the musty scent, and the garish red of the Slasher’s plaid jackets all made her relive the staggering shame and humiliation that had followed her greatest mistake.
No, she had to reframe those feelings. It hadn’t been a mistake. She’d done nothing wrong. She’d only been a schoolgirl with a crush, as innocent as Jordan Knox inSlasher,and her peers had punished her for it. Jason’s apology only madehimfeel better about sharing The Photo, while she’d had to live with the fallout.
She’d discussed this with her therapist and they’d come to the conclusion that her trauma stemmed from the fact that the others would never face any consequences from their actions. They would never realize how much they’d crushed her spirit.And how will they ever learn, then?her therapist had said. How would they ever recognize the magnitude of their careless behavior if they neverpaid for it? How would people know how wrong they were for turning her into a pariah?
You couldn’t sit around doing nothing and hope others would see the light. Wishful thinking was exactly that—useless thoughts. You had to be the change you wanted to see in the world. Talking about trauma was very helpful, but at the end of the day, real progress was made out in the field.
Or in the woods.
I am a strong woman who can’t be hurt anymore.
“What did you say, Carrie?” Jason said.
Carrie hadn’t realized she’d been speaking out loud. She turned her head to face him, and the tickle in her nose finally reached the tipping point.
She sneezed.
This darned cabin always made her sneeze.
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, the boys looking at her expectantly. “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” She took the thin leather gloves her therapist had recommended out from her jeans pockets and pulled them on.The hands might be a giveaway,he’d said. “I’ve had enough of this. This is why you’re such bad friends.”
She sighed, shoulders rising and falling like she was a tired mother disappointed in her children, and drew the axe out from where she’d hidden it.
25
Patrick
Carrie drew the axe out from the shadows. It had been leaning against a shelving unit, obscured by the limp end of a partially unrolled Slasher Summer banner. Patrick startled at first, then relaxed. In hindsight, one of them should have taken the axe from the top of the stairs to defend themselves from Mikey, and Carrie was the best choice, since Mikey had been throwing shade on both Patrick and Jason. Patrick didn’t want to believe Jason was capable of killing Tiffany. He’d loved her, despite their tumultuous history. Sure, it was possible for love to tip over into hate, or into a near-obsession, like Mikey’s feelings for Carrie. But this wasJason.Patrick knew in his gut—and his heart—that Jason would never do such a thing.
So he was relieved that Carrie had rescued the axe from where Mikey had left it.
It was odd she was wearing gloves, though. Dark brown leathergloves, like the man who’d chased him to the fire tower with the axe. They looked out of place on her pale bare arms.
She sniffled and said, as calmly as if she were discussing the weather, “I knew I should’ve taken my allergy meds.” She laughed, her light, tinkling Jordan Knox laugh that belied carefree innocence. “But they always make me drowsy, and I needed to stay alert today. It’s too bad. The sneeze gave me away to Freddy and things got messy.”
She seemed to be talking more to herself than the others. Mikey regarded her with a frown, reflecting Patrick’s own puzzlement. Patrick had shown them all Russ’s dead body, and she was nattering on about her allergies.
“Be careful with the axe, Care Bear,” Jason said.
Carrie’s lips twitched, almost in a sneer. Even Patrick winced at how patronizing that had come out.Don’t hurt yourself, little lady.The muscles of Carrie’s bare arms flexed, although her grip on the axe never seemed to change. The stark light of Patrick’s flashlight cast her in dramatic shadow. Her upper arms were more toned than he remembered, the muscle definition betrayed by the weight of the axe. She’d always been slim, but gone was the softness of their high school days. How had Patrick missed that?
He took her in again,reallylooking at her, instead of taking for granted she was the same sweet and wistful schoolgirl of four years ago. He catalogued the narrowed eyes, the set of her jaw, the locked, ready stance of her body.
There wasn’t a trace of softness in her anywhere.
An impossible thought struck him with the incandescence of a hundred lightning bolts.
She knew how to use that axe.
No, that couldn’t be right, even as the back of Patrick’s head screamed at him to run.
