Page 15 of The Trick

Boogeyman_Of_Haddonfield_31: Trust me, there is nowhere I’d rather be. Where you are, I am. Don’t forget that.

FinalGirlsRock_666: Good, because I need you.

Boogeyman_Of_Haddonfield_31: I need you too.

More than you know.

* * *

Leaves crunch and twigs snap beneath the sole of my boots as I walk deeper into the abandoned woods. I’ve waited so long for this moment, to be able to touch her, to have her look into my eyes–even though they are concealed beneath my mask–that I didn’t prepare myself for how nervous I would feel. It’s not every day that you find a soul as equally fucked up as your own. It’s why I want our “first” meeting to go perfectly, because seeing my way out of her life isn’t a fucking option.

I continue walking through the thicket of unkempt land, using the minimal illumination that my phone’s flashlight gives off to guide the way. Anxiety begins to trickle along my spine, spreading to my chest, which feels like it will crush beneath the pressure of nerves with the realization that my little minx should be here any minute.

Now nearing the pitchfork tree, I begin to pace back and forth, trying to think of what I will say to her first. I’m about to stop my anxious pacing when my boot steps on something hard. My brow furrows because, even though there are rocks and debris all over the ground, this feelsdifferent.

Moving the flashlight of my phone down to the ground, I scan the grass, looking for what my foot hit when my phone suddenly begins vibrating in my hands with Cam’s name on the display. Quickly, I open the message.

Cam Moeder: I received an interesting phone call…

Me: Ok??

Cam Moeder: Next time you use one of those fancy apps to redirect calls, make sure it goes to your phone and not mine.

What the fuck is Cam talking about?

Before I’m able to respond, I hear sirens wailing in the distance. My phone buzzes again, though this time as I go to look down at the message, my gaze travels past the phone in my hand and to the ground. A sliver of moonlight catches the distinct gleam of a crimson coated knife. Judging from the way the blood appears to be shiny, I’d say it’s fresh. I don’t know why but before I read the two new messages from Cam, I bend down reaching for the handle. With the knife now in my grasp the distinct etching on the handle makes my blood begin to boil. I internalize a growl, clenching the knife in my fist, feeling my pulse pound against the handle.

Cam Moeder: I had to improvise a bit, but I think we have another problem on our hands.

Cam Moeder: Be careful. Cops are on their way, I’ll explain in a few.

Me: No, you are going to tell me now what the fuck is happening.

Cam Moeder: Ask that girl, Blair, is it? Sounds like she might have done you a favor.

Me: ????

Cam Moeder: Either she killed or knows who killed Ethan Campbell.

With the lingering presence of the law approaching where I now stand, my heart begins to pound, not from nerves, but from anger. I thought I programmed Blair’s phone to call my number when she calls the police, but somehow the lines must have gotten crossed, and her call went to Cam instead.

I can’t believe it, she was trying to set me up.

The initials on the knife,“B.V.T.”. Blair Van Tassel.

Anger consumes the more I process her betrayal. I should’ve known.

She didn’t want to meet me.

She wanted to use me by stringing me along, using my eagerness to meet her to her advantage so she could get away with murder.

But in all her scheming she never considered who she was truly talking to all this time. She probably assumed I am some loser that’s so smitten with her that I would do anything she says. Which is true, except the thing with obsession that she must not realize is that it’s rooted in heightened irrationality. If she truly wants to know what it’s like to submit to darkness, I’ll do her one better. I’ll show her what it feels like to be trapped in my madness with no escape and no way to even breathe without my permission.

A woman scorned doesn’t hold a candle to a stalker betrayed because the Boogeyman of Haddonfield, the Horseman–fuck, the devil himself– are no fucking match for the hell that will be unleashed on her.

She betrayed me, betrayedusand all that we could’ve been.

Blair isn’t a minx; she is a devious, lying,hellcat.

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