20. Like In A Horror Movie
Like In A Horror Movie
Bex
T he lights go out the second the bathroom door closes behind me.
Shit. They must be getting ready to close down the arena, which means that everyone will have left.
I know the guys wouldn’t leave without me, though. They must be waiting outside if the staff are closing down.
The long hallway that connects the rink and spectator sections to the concession and service area is pitch black.
I’m at the very end of it, and if memory serves, I need to walk all the way to a fork in the hallway. Turning left would get me to the exit by the merchandise store; a right turn would lead me to the locker rooms area.
Using the flashlight on my phone to be able to see where I’m going, I retrace my steps and get in view of the fork in the hallway.
In the semi-darkness, everything looks different, scary even, compared to when these hallways are swarming with hockey fans and staff.
There are a lot of horror movies that are set in abandoned hospitals or schools.
I’ve also seen a few set in abandoned amusement parks.
Abandoned hockey arenas should be a thing too, because all of a sudden the small hairs on my arm stand to attention.
I look to my left and to my right, pointing my phone in front of me to make sure that nothing is hiding in the dark.
“Fuck.” I mutter. “If this were a horror movie, I would have just made the biggest mistake ever. Any character who gets separated from their friends usually ends up face to face with the monster.”
On a rational level, I know there’s no one lurking in the dark. But my body didn’t get the memo, and my heart is beating literally in my throat, and it feels like I’m being watched.
The feeling is so intense that I’m about to shout “hello,” but I bite my tongue, just in case someone did answer me.
“Come on, Bex,” I say under my breath. “Let’s get out of here; this isn’t fun.”
I barely take two steps forward that I sense movement somewhere behind me, and I freeze.
My fight-or-flight instinct is screaming at me that this is the stupidest thing I could do. That what I should do if I were even remotely smart would be to run as fast as my feet will carry me.
I take two hesitant steps, and I spot the movement I sensed a second ago. I’m not alone here.
“Fuck this shit.” I choke out.
If there’s someone here, chances are it is a cleaning crew, not a psycho serial killer, right?
Ok. I can do this. One step in front of the other as fast as I can and, before I know it, I’m going to be out of here.
I focus on the fork a few feet ahead of me, but all I manage to take is one step before a tall, hulking figure appears in front of me, blocking my way out.
Maybe one of the guys got worried and came looking for me. Judging by how tall the man is, well over six feet two, it can only be Connor or Keene.
“Connor? Keene?” I call out.
When there’s no answer and the figure doesn’t move a muscle, I let out a nervous laugh.
“Come on, this isn’t funny. Keene, if that’s you, I swear to God?—”
I point the flashlight upward to see their face.
My blood curdles and I freeze when I see the hockey mask covering their face. The same hockey mask the man who attacked me at the art center was wearing.
The man blocking my path moves suddenly and so quickly that I don’t have time to react.
He’s on me, using his weight to push me against the wall.
I scream.
Or at least I think I do. I can feel that my mouth is open, but my ears are ringing so loudly that I’m not sure if any sound is coming out of me.
In my head, however, I am screaming.
As his huge, gloved hands close around my throat, there’s a clattering sound.
It’s my phone hitting the ground, I’m aware of it in some recess of my mind but that’s not important right now.
What’s important is that I have to fight. I have to get him to loosen his hold on me enough to get away.
My fingers grab onto his gloved wrists, and I struggle to pry his hands away from my neck. I have to hurry because as his hold gets tighter, breathing is becoming increasingly harder.
“Let. Me. Go.” I manage to choke out, my voice raspy as my windpipe is crushed.
“I’ll let you go when you’re no longer breathing, slut.”
I can’t see his face, but I would know that voice anywhere.
Kurt.
“No one gets away from me.” He grunts, tightening his hands around my neck. “No slut gets to leave me at the altar, making me look like a fool in front of the entire world.”
They say that when you’re about to die, your whole life flashes in front of your eyes. It’s bullshit.
As black splotches begin to appear in my peripheral vision and my lungs burn with the need for air, I see nothing.
Maybe it’s because my eyes are shut, but the thing that consumes my every thought, aside from the need to breathe, is the need to argue with him.
The entire world? Get real, Kurt. You might have twenty million followers, but that’s hardly the entire world. The size of your ego must be the direct opposite to the size of your dick.
The other thing that nobody tells you about dying? If my air supply wasn’t being cut, I would snort because that’s funny, and I know that Kurt wouldn’t appreciate the irony.
Keene
I’m so fucking tired.
And my right knuckle is pulsing and hurts like a bitch. It was bleeding earlier, but the satisfaction of socking Priestly in the face was worth a little discomfort.
I might not be Bex’s biggest fan, but that doesn’t mean I tolerate any form of violence against my roommate or any woman in general.
“Are you sure she was just going to the bathroom?” Hart asks Candace for the fifth time in just as many minutes.
The Zeta president rolls her eyes. “Unless I wasn’t speaking English, yes, Jamie. Bex had to go to the bathroom. She had to pee, which isn’t surprising since she finished a forty-ounce cup of diet soda.”
“Yeah, but she’s been gone for a long time.” Connor looks at the smartwatch on his wrist. “If she just had to pee, she should be here by now. It doesn’t take twenty minutes to pee and wash your hands.”
Candace shakes her head. “Who are you, the bathroom police? Maybe she just wanted to freshen her makeup so she would look pretty for Jamie. Or she had to go number two, or got her period. I didn’t think you guys would want a detailed report of which bodily functions she was planning to perform in there. ”
“She can’t have gotten her period.” Jamie argues clearly frustrated. “She had it last week.”
“God, who needs one of those apps to track their period when they have you?” Candace bites back. “That’s slightly creepy that you keep track of your girlfriend’s periods, by the way.”
In typical Jamie fashion, my roommate isn’t phased by that comment.
“On the contrary, she’s my girlfriend, and I pay attention.
I saw a tampon wrapper in the trash can last week, so I came home with some extra supplies in case she was running low, a box of Bex’s favorite chocolate and I rented a couple of rom-coms we could watch together. ”
Luke looks at Jamie as if he had sprouted a second head. “Who are you, and what did you do with my roommate, Jamie Hart? The guy I used to know changed girls more often than I changed my underwear. Not that I’m complaining that you’re so good to my sister, but I’m a little surprised.”
Hart flips him off. “Shut the fuck up. Nothing says I love you more than keeping a heating pad handy if she has cramps.”
I’ve managed to stay out of the debate so far, but that makes me chuckle. “Love, huh?” I tease. “And here I thought you were just pussy whipped.”
“Fuck off, Sarge.” He laughs.
A strange feeling invades me at the thought.
Love is something I gave up on after my ex crushed me by cheating while I was deployed.
But that doesn’t mean that deep down I don’t crave it.
That awareness makes me clasp Jamie’s shoulder in solidarity.
“You know what, Hart? I respect that you treat your girl right. And there’s no shame in going to buy her tampons.
I did it all the time for my ex. It isn’t my fault if the duplicitous bitch didn’t appreciate it. ”
“Thanks, man.” Jamie nods. “But seriously, where is Bex? There’s no way she could have gotten out of the bathroom without walking through here.”
“Unless she left from an emergency exit or from the back door on the other side of the ice rink where all the laundry facilities and maintenance rooms are,” Luke muses.
Connor chimes in. “Why would she? It doesn’t make sense. Besides, you need to scan your athletic department ID to open that door. And she knew we’d be waiting for her here.”
Before getting to know Bex, I would have thought she’d make us wait as a way to get some extra attention. But she isn’t one of those women who take forever to get ready. I’ve seen Jamie and Connor ask her to go out to eat on a whim, and they were out of the door within minutes.
Maybe Jamie is right to be concerned. “You should go check on her.” I say to Candace. “I’m surprised you didn’t go with her. Don’t you girls always go to the bathroom in pairs?”
I didn’t mean that as an accusation, but the Zeta president takes offense.
“She said she would be quick, and I was looking forward to seeing Corey.” She wraps her arms around her new boyfriend’s waist.
“Hey man,” Collins frowns. “Leave Candace alone, ok? Rather than arguing about why she didn’t go to the bathroom, why don’t you guys go to see what’s the hold up?”
I clasp him on the shoulder. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it; it was just an observation that women seem to love to go to the restroom in pairs or groups, even. You’re right, we probably should go look for her. What if she isn’t feeling well or something?”
The sound of footsteps coming from the hallway that leads into the restroom and concession stands area makes us turn around to look. I’m surprised by the relief I feel at the thought that Bex is ok.
That feeling is short-lived, however, when another woman comes toward us.