Page 138 of Final Girls

On the floor.

Water seeps under the closed door, rolling toward me, then around me. It soaks my hair, my shoulders, my whole body, which convulses with pain and terror. Someone sits next to me. Tears chime inside his ragged breaths.

You’ll be okay. We’ll both be okay.

From the other side of the door comes a terrible slick-swish. Footsteps in the water. Right outside.

More memories. Brief snippets. Pounding on the door. A rattling of the doorknob. A slam. A crunch as the door breaks open, smashing against the wall. The flash of moonlight on the knife, glinting red.

I scream.

Then.

Now.

The two screams collide until I can’t tell which is in the present and which is in the past. When someone grabs me, I start yelling and kicking, fighting them off, not knowing who it is or when it is or what’s happening to me.

“Quincy.” It’s Tina’s voice, cutting through the confusion. “Quincy, what’s going on?”

I stare up at her, firmly in the present. The knife remains in her hand, a reminder that I can’t disappoint her.

“I’m starting to remember,” I say.

41.

Details.

Finally.

In my memory, I’m edging in and out of consciousness, my eyes opening and shutting. Like I’m in a closed-off room and someone is flicking the lights. I’ve rolled onto my back, hoping it will make the stab wounds at my shoulder hurt less. It doesn’t.

Blinking at the swirling stars overhead, I hear the others on the deck, screaming and scrambling to get inside.

What about Quinn?It might be Amy, her voice plaintive.What about her?

She’s dead.

I know that voice. Definitely Craig.

The back door is slammed shut. A lock clicks.

I want to look but can’t. Pain tears through my shoulder when I try to turn my head. It hurts so bad. Like I’m on fire. And the blood. So much blood. It pumps out in time to the panicked thrum of my heart.

He’s still crossing the frost-crusted grass to the cabin, feet crunching over it. When He reaches the deck, the grass crunch changes to wood creak. Inside Pine Cottage, someone screams at the window, the sound muted as it bounces off the glass.

Then the window shatters.

I hear another click, the creak of the door, screams of multiple people making their way deeper into the cabin. They fade until onlyone scream remains. Amy again. She’s screaming and screaming just inside the now-open door. Then one of her screams is cut short. A sickly gurgle follows.

Amy is silent.

I moan and close my eyes.

The lights are flicked off again.

•••

I’m jostled awake by hands on my arms, pulling me to my feet. The movement reignites the pain blaze at my shoulder. I cry out and am instantly shushed.

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