Chapter 22
THE WORLD STOPS SPINNING ON ITS AXIS. HIS WORDS FALL over my shoulders like a bucket of ice-cold water. My lungs fail to allow the oxygen to flow and bring me a sense of relief. I’m unable to do anything but stare at him.
Why would he say that?
Danny’s eyes crease around the corners. His lips stretch into a grin, finding humor in the comment. Shadows cross his face, darkening his expression in a way that seems almost sinister. He lets out a soft chuckle, scratching the back of his neck the way he does when he’s nervous.
Or maybe I’ve always misread it as a nervous tic when it meant something else entirely.
“What?” I mumble.
Danny’s grin remains plastered on his face.
“It’s just a joke, Mabs.”
Under much different circumstances, I would’ve appreciated the joke. I’m sure there’s a funny aspect to it, but after the horrible things I’ve witnessed, his joke falls flat. Borderline tactless and insensitive. Especially when we’ve just shared a very intimate and vulnerable moment.
Acid bubbles in my stomach, threatening to rise at an alarmingly fast rate. The seed of doubt plants itself in the pit of my stomach.
I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, urging my body to calm down.
It’s just a joke.
Although it’s not particularly amusing to me, I let out a shaky giggle, putting on the best performance I can.
But what if it isn’t a joke?
The main suspect of every slasher is always the romantic interest. It’s one of the first rules of slashers because the person you trust the most is always the one who can hurt you.
And I’ve been blindly trusting Danny tonight. Only because I’ve harbored feelings for him.
He disarmed me with his puppy eyes and kind smile, but was any of it real? There have been serial killers who seemed charming—until the bodies buried in their backyards were discovered. All this could’ve been one big performance, and I’ve stupidly fallen for it like a fucking fool.
My eyes ache from the held-back tears, but I force myself to smile. Gazing around the room, I spot the place where I left my knife. It’s barely a meter away.
Would I be able to fight Danny if it came down to it?
He’s a tall man, and while he’s not bulky, he’s not lanky either.
It would be fairly easy for him to overpower me.
If he were really intending to, he could kill me without effort.
And I don’t know how to defend myself from him because my heart doesn’t want him to be the villain of this story.
He can’t be the man who has orchestrated this torment for all of us.
Yet, sadly, he seems to be the one with the most opportunity to do it.
A loud clank interrupts my thoughts. I can’t tell what’s going on, but it seems like someone is unlocking the freezer door.
My heart drums inside my chest. I glance at Danny from the corner of my eye and then I stare at the abandoned knife on the floor.
He has a knife of his own, but I can’t spot where he left it after bandaging my arm.
Could he really be Cupid?
No, it makes no sense, right? We met Cupid together when we came up with the plan to go to the attic. Together we distracted the killer. Before he managed to lock us in here, I stabbed him. Cupid, not Danny.
But what if Cupid isn’t just one person?
While in reality it’s hard to find a murder buddy, this night is a slasher film. Starting with the letters, locking us in here, and all the murders. It’s not uncommon for slashers to have two killers. Cupid might be a costume worn by two different people.
The one I stabbed, and someone else . . .
Someone like Danny.
If I’m right about this, then maybe I was correct when I theorized that Cupid and Brian’s killer may not be the same person. It’s possible they could be collaborating. But what is the motive linking them? There’s always a common factor, whether it’s power or revenge or both.
The clang repeats, followed by the suction noise of the door dislodging from the seal.
I move to the corner where my knife rests, wrapping my fingers around the hilt with precision.
I rise to my feet, stepping back into the farthest corner of the freezer, careful not to clumsily slip on the icy floor.
If I’m right about Danny, I stand no chance of fighting them both off at the same time. Alternating between staring at the door and the man standing next to me, I tighten my grip on the knife and take another step back, my butt hits a shelf as I do.
Danny moves in front of me like a shield. He raises his own knife with the tip directed to the door.
Why would Danny be the killer when he has tried so hard to protect me? He could’ve simply allowed Cupid to have his way with me. My brain hurts, almost as if it were being split in half. What should I do? Trust Danny, or shield myself from him before he can hurt me?
The door opens fully, and I force my eyes to stay open, not wanting to miss Cupid’s appearance. However, it doesn’t happen. I’m met with a familiar and annoying face.
“Whoa! Dude, what the fuck? Were you going to kill me?” The alarm in Seth’s voice makes it ring louder, almost to the point of squeaky, like a dog’s broken toy. He lifts his hands in the air as he stares at the knife in Danny’s hold.
Danny lowers his blade and places a hand on his chest, whistling with relief. His shoulders and back slouch slightly, letting his guard down. How can he be sure that Seth isn’t the killer?
Why is he trusting him?
“What are you doing here?” Danny asks. “How are you even alive?”
Seth shrugs. “After that psycho killed Ellie . . .”
“Elodie,” Danny corrects him.
Seth scoffs in return.
“Bro, do you think I care about her name?” he quips. “Anyway, after what’s-her-face got killed, I ran upstairs and hid. It was going fine when all the screaming was happening downstairs, but now it’s coming from upstairs, so I decided to change locations.”
My breath hitches.
If he was on the second floor and there was screaming coming from upstairs, it means it must’ve come from the attic. The place where my little sister was supposed to be safe.
“Upstairs?” Danny echoes.
“Yeah, are you not following the story? I decided to use the freezer as a hiding place, because who would be dumb enough to hide in a freezer, right? It’s the perfect spot,” he concludes, putting his hands on his hips. “I mean, you guys clearly thought about it.”
“We didn’t, actually. The killer locked us in here.”
Seth’s brows lift on his forehead, almost meeting his hairline. “Ah, that explains why she looks like she crawled out of a circle of hell.” He points his chin at me.
Danny cleaned the blood off my face before we left the bathroom, so I must have some of Cupid’s on me from when I stabbed him.
My dark brown hair feels tangled, even more so than when I looked in the mirror after having Danny’s hands ruffling it—never mind the friction from when he was thrusting into me—and part of my shirt got ripped by Cupid’s machete.
The makeshift bandage is still tied around my bicep.
“And you look oddly clean,” Danny points out with a hint of suspicion in his voice.
“It’s not my fault I’m the smartest one here. Obviously.”
The smartest, the luckiest, or the guiltiest.
Clearly, I’m not very good at reading people, considering I might’ve unknowingly fucked the killer, but it’s very unlikely Seth has spent the past couple of hours hiding without being caught up in any sort of skirmish.
Even Bethan, who was one of the least hurt among us, had some scrapes and bruises.
The only two people who seem to be free of injury are the men standing here in the freezer with me.
“You said you heard screaming?” I ask, directing the conversation to what interests me the most.
I don’t care if he has been hiding in a corner all night. If what he’s saying is true and he heard the screams from above him, it means the girls might be in danger. Bethan, Cerys, my sister. Anxiety inserts its claws under my skin, refusing to let me go.
“Yeah, sounded like someone was getting murdered.”
A whimper escapes me.
Is it horrible of me that I hope the screaming came from someone else? I don’t think any of us has deserved what happened tonight, except maybe Seth, for running in the same circle as Brian, and Shane, for trying to murder me when there was no reason for it.
Danny grabs my free hand and draws soothing circles with the pad of his thumb.
“It might not be them,” he says.
I pull away from his hold, not wanting to be touched by him or anyone. The phantom of his touch leaves a trail of tingles in the spots he caressed. I shiver, overstimulated by the blend of emotions clouding my senses.
The doubt, my suspicions about Danny, the fear rumbling in my veins.
It’s too much to handle all at once.
“You can’t know that. There’s barely anyone left.”
The night started out with fourteen of us.
Elodie, Ray, Leighton, Jaden and Shane are all dead.
While Zelda, Carmen and Cerys are all injured in various ways and in different locations.
Zelda in a room on the first floor, hidden behind a couch.
Carmen tucked away in the attic, and Cerys almost dragged around by Bethan to head to the attic as well.
Mentally, I count off the names, tapping the tip of each finger as I add a number.
Nine.
Nine out of fourteen, so it means there are five left to count.
Considering Danny, Seth and I are all in the freezer, it leaves only two people unaccounted for: Sophia and Ollie.
According to Zelda, Sophia ran away after her friend got viciously attacked by Cupid, and she hasn’t been seen since.
It’s hard to tell if she is still alive and hiding, or was killed at some point during the night without us knowing, especially with Cupid’s predisposition for hiding the bodies, making it more difficult for us to keep track.
“We should go to the attic,” Danny announces.
Seth tilts his head.
“Uh, I don’t know about that. That’s where the screaming was coming from.”