Chapter 15
MY THROAT BURNS FROM THE SCREAM. MY HEARTBEAT rushes in my ears, drowning out the noise around me, and while I can’t hear her, I know Carmen is screaming too.
I feel the vibrations in her chest as her body slumps against my torso.
Blood spurts out of her wound, spraying the walls as Cupid retracts his weapon.
Before he can take another swing at us, my hands snap into action, punching him in the throat. The soft tissue bends under my knuckles, the attack catching him off guard. He makes a choked noise and drops the knife as his hands move up to clasp his throat.
I don’t waste the opportunity to kick the knife as hard as I can, as far from us as possible. I don’t know if he has another weapon hidden under his clothes, but it will definitely buy us more time.
Every second counts.
Carmen’s shoulders heave with every sob and groan coming from her lips.
“Come on,” I tell her. “We’ve got to keep moving.”
I’m in awe of my sister’s resilience as she takes a deep breath and straightens her back enough to turn and steady herself against my body. I wrap an arm around her waist, pushing her along with me. I take a right and then another, looking to put as much distance as I can between us and Cupid.
He’s not following us yet.
Either my distraction worked or he chose an easier prey. But that doesn’t matter, not now, when all I care about is getting Carmen to safety.
I find a room that opens on to a large set of stairs.
These must be the grand stairs at the back of the house that lead up to all the dorm floors.
There’s access to every wing. In the corner, I spot the elevator used mainly by the maintenance staff.
It’s not for general use, but every house in Greek Row must have one to comply with Westbrook’s accessibility policies.
I glance behind us, seeing the bloody trail left behind. This isn’t good. We’ll be easily tracked no matter which way we go.
Unless . . .
No, I shouldn’t consider it.
Electricity is patchy and I don’t want to end up being trapped in a dead end with no escape. I might have a death wish to be the sacrifice every time, but not enough to run directly into a trap where we can easily be killed if Cupid chooses to wait for the doors to open. It’s way too risky.
Right now, all I need is a place to hide with my sister so I can assess her wound and make sure she’s not going to die any time soon. Then, we can figure out our next steps.
Between staying on this floor, climbing up the stairs, and taking the elevator, I choose the middle option. I’ve been all round this house, unable to find a hiding place or a weapon, so maybe it’s time to deviate from what we had originally planned.
So, even though this breaks another rule from the how-to-survive-a-slasher handbook, I choose to take the stairs.
“Let’s go up,” I tell Carmen.
Her head snaps to me. “Up?”
I nod. “We need to hide.”
Carmen groans. “Isn’t that one of the big no-no’s of slashers? Don’t go upstairs?”
Choking back a bitter laugh, I hoist us to the stairs, climbing the steps as fast as we can. Carmen is breathless next to me, air coming out ragged through her cracked lips. A knot blocks my throat when I see the pain plastered over her face as she presses one of her hands to her bleeding shoulder.
“Well, I’ve done a lot of those tonight,” I say, imagining Danny’s reaction when he finds out about this one. I look at my sister, struggling with the pain. What was she doing roaming the halls alone? “Why were you on your own? Where’s Cerys?”
Carmen shakes her head. “I lost her,” she mumbles. “We went to the kitchen, found two knives, but we had to get out of there quickly. That fucker was after us. We had to split ways, and I lost my knife too. I dropped it when he was chasing us. What about you?”
I gulp.
“I found Danny for a little bit. We were going to follow your plan, but then we found Zelda.”
“Alive?” she asks.
My lips tremble as I try to come up with an answer.
How do I even put it together without immediately saying “Con un pie más allá que acá”?
It’s clear she was more dead than alive, but I can’t precisely tell her that.
While they were never friends, I don’t know what Carmen’s reaction will be to another death.
We’ve never had to deal with major losses in our lives. Death was something we only ever heard of rather than experienced. Perhaps that’s what drew me to the horror genre. I was attracted to something I’d never been near to.
Now? I want to get as far away from it as possible.
“She was hurt,” I say, skipping over the gruesome details. “Did you see anyone else?”
Another shake of her curls. “No. There was some blood around, but God knows who it belonged to.”
It’s harder to tell when you consider Cupid has been moving the bodies around. I share this detail with her and Carmen recoils but says nothing.
“I need a moment,” she pleads once we make it to the second floor.
We move a few meters away from the stairs, and Carmen rests her back against a wall.
She gasps for air, grimacing as her bloody fingers trace the two-inch stab wound on her shoulder.
I begin to worry that it’s not the innocent sort of injury that the movies would have us believe.
I hope to God it didn’t hit any major arteries, because I can’t watch my baby sister die.
I refuse to let her die.
Why the hell did she get in the way? She should’ve let Cupid stab me and get it over with. I would very much rather die than live in a world where Carmen isn’t with me. Even with all our fighting and bickering, I’d be nothing without her.
“Sit down for a minute,” I order.
For once, she doesn’t put up a fight and slides to the floor without saying a word. I kneel next to her and check her wound. She’s still bleeding, but not as heavily as before.
What can I do to help? I have no access to any emergency kits, nor do I know how to sew a wound.
Frankly, I think I would pass out if I had to put a needle through Carmen’s skin with no anesthetics.
There has to be another way to stop the bleeding.
I could check in the rooms to see if there’s anything we could use as a bandage.
Though I wouldn’t trust any Theta clothes. They don’t seem remotely hygienic.
I rub my hands on my pants, attempting to clean off the blood sticking to my fingers, when I remember the clothing in my back pocket.
She’ll hate me for this, but oh well.
I grab it and press it on her shoulder to help stop the bleeding.
“Is that your bra?” Carmen questions, her voice pitching in distress. “Ew, get it away from my wound! You’ll give me an infection!”
“It’s this or some guy’s dirty sheets—which one would you prefer?” I snap back, using a firm tone.
I press the bra harder to her shoulder, rendering her immobile. Pouting like a little kid, Carmen glares at me as she allows me to use the bra to staunch the bleeding. It’s better than nothing.
“I can’t believe you’re putting your boob sweat on my shoulder,” she mumbles through gritted teeth.
The ridiculousness of this argument makes me giggle.
“You’ll live,” I tell her. “Someday this will be a funny story.”
Carmen arches a brow in my direction. “You’re the only one laughing like a maniac here,” she points out.
I purse my lips together.
She’s right.
I’m the only one laughing, but it’s probably because, if I don’t do it, I’ll cross the line and slip into hysteria. All I’ve ever wanted is to keep Carmen safe and free from harm, and now the unthinkable has happened.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Carmen bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. You were right about the letter; it was a threat, but I didn’t want to believe you. We should’ve left Westbrook when we had the chance.”
I stay quiet.
It’s true, we could’ve been on a plane right now, but we still don’t know why this is happening.
As much as I want to believe we could’ve avoided all this, something tells me it wouldn’t have been possible.
Cupid has gone to great lengths to arrange this night, so he must have a motive, something that drives him to commit these atrocities. I just don’t know what that motive is.
“It’s not your fault,” I assure her. “I’m just glad we’re together.”
Tears crystalize in her brown eyes. My heart aches when I notice her lips trembling the way they did when she was a child.
“I don’t want to die, Mabby. I’ve done bad things, but I don’t want to die. I don’t deserve to die,” she cries. “And I don’t want you to die either. What will I do without you? Please, Mabel.”
Without letting go of the bra, I press her against my chest.
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” I promise. “Did you see me punch him? Papi will scream when he finds out I finally got to try out his technique to throw a punch.”
Carmen lets out a watery laugh that makes my chest lighter.
That’s much better.
I don’t want to see her sad and thinking the worst, even when we’re in the worst possible scenario. It doesn’t matter if I’m in pieces, I’ll do anything to make my sister keep a smile on her beautiful face.
Carmen lifts her head to look at me, tears carving a path down her cheeks.
“Are you okay?” I ask, examining her.
She moves her head in an affirmative motion.
“Don’t get me wrong, being stabbed isn’t fun. It hurts like a bitch, but I think I’m okay,” she explains.
“No dizziness? Blurry vision? Anything?”
Her response comes in the form of a headshake.
“I even believe I’ll survive the infection I’ll get from your boob sweat.”
A snort comes out of me before I can stop it.
“Come on. We’ve got to keep moving,” I say. She extends her arm, wincing, and I help her get to her feet again.
“What do you have in mind?”
I don’t have a solid plan. We’re in a vulnerable spot, and I don’t know where to go.