Chapter 10 #3
A figure stands behind her. Tall and covered from head to toe in black clothing, except for the face that’s covered by a mask.
It looks porcelain, resembling a statue, or perhaps a cherub—it’s Cupid.
They’re wearing a Cupid’s mask. And then, as if motivated by the attention around him, Cupid pulls out the knife from Elodie’s back and plunges it directly in her chest, causing a mouthful of blood to projectile out of her. Spraying the people closest to her.
My body feels as if it is made of stone, limbs too heavy to move as Cupid kills Elodie.
Tears sting behind my eyelids, but I can’t stop watching as her body spasms and she bleeds out in front of us, life abandoning her.
Someone killed Elodie and we’re all just staring, unable to do anything to help her.
A trapped breath collides with the sob erupting from my chest, choking me. Shock washes over me like a cold wave.
Everything I thought today, when I was theorizing that the letters promised mayhem and a bloody valentine, has come true. I wasn’t being crazy or paranoid or too caught up in the possibility of a horror movie plot, because every suspicion has become a reality.
Loud shrieks buzz in my ears, and it’s only by the vibrations in my chest that I realize I’ve joined them too.
Cupid tilts their head and withdraws the knife, throwing Elodie’s dead body to the ground.
The thud of her weight hitting the floor booms in my body.
Cupid is getting rid of the victim to find a new one.
I can’t allow it to be my sister or best friend.
I grab their hands and pull them with me.
I’m not sure where we’re headed, I just know it has to be far from Cupid’s reach.
We almost bump into the people around us as everyone scatters, running from the killer in the room.
The rush of steps has slowed down, and it seems like the killer has decided to follow targets closer to them before chasing after us.
I slow the pace as we slide into a dark room.
My eyes are adjusting to the darkness, my senses heightened by the adrenaline, and I can make out the outline of a table.
This must be the main dining hall. Gesturing at the girls to follow me, we run to the other side of the room, lowering to the ground in case Cupid decides to check if there’s someone here.
That way, at least it looks like the space is empty.
“Wait, wait,” Carmen says once we’re successfully hidden and can have a moment to think. “We need to defend ourselves.”
“How?” Cerys asks, baffled at Carmen’s suggestion. “That guy has a fucking knife!”
“Would you rather we scream and hide?”
“Yes!” Cerys exclaims. “You’re literally five-foot-two and a theater kid. We stand no fucking chance, are you insane?” Slouching against a wall, she gasps for air as she starts sobbing. “Oh my God. This is my fault,” she laments. “My letter—”
“We have no time for this!” Carmen cuts her off. “Let’s hurry to the kitchen, see if we can find a knife or something.”
I close my eyes, holding the bridge of my nose as I think.
Carmen is right. We can’t run around the house completely defenseless when there’s a killer chasing us, especially when said killer has trapped us inside this stupid house. God, I can’t believe I’m in a near-death experience in a stupid frat house of all places.
This has to be one of the most pathetic horror scenarios I’ve ever witnessed. Cinematically speaking, it would make a horrible film. The entire thing would be poorly lit. Not even a dark theater would help the viewer see what’s happening or who’s dying.
“What do you think?” Cerys turns to me, expecting guidance.
I arch my brows. “Why are you asking me?”
“You’re kind of an expert at this.”
“An expert?” I echo, aghast.
“You work on horror movies!” she reminds me.
“Movies, not real-life psychos!” I snap back.
But as much as I hate to admit it, she is right.
My experience might not be related to handling cold-blooded killers, but I’ve studied them for horror. When it comes to writing, I know the formula around a good slasher film, and I’m well aware of the rules on how to survive them.
No matter what, don’t run up the stairs when you can escape through the front door.
A bit difficult to achieve considering we’re trapped inside this house, but we can switch it to not put ourselves at unnecessary risk when we know we can’t fight the killer. In the best-case scenario, we manage to hide until we’re rescued.
No usage of alcohol or drugs.
It’s a good thing I foresaw this night turning skewed because I’ve remained sober the entire time. However, this can’t be said for my sister. When I hugged her back in her room, I smelled the alcohol oozing from her body.
Don’t go anywhere alone, or volunteer to go anywhere; you’ll be the first one to die.
Volunteer . . .
A lump forms in my throat and my heart falls to the pit of my stomach when a memory sparks in my brain. I had been so caught up in the panic of escaping the killer that I completely forgot about the fact that Danny volunteered to go find the flashlights.
He doesn’t know Elodie has been murdered, let alone that there’s a killer in the house.
But there’s another fact clogging my airways.
We were all screaming, and yet he didn’t return.
He didn’t make it back.