Page 11 of Horror and Chill
My breath catchesas the final ripple of my orgasm shatters through me, scraping me raw from the inside out. My forehead is pressed against the tree and I just know I’m going to have bark burn on my face. My thighs shake. My body thrums like it’s just survived something sacred and savage.
Then he leans in, his breath hot against my ear.
“You’re even better in person.”
My blood freezes.
That’s not Jay’s voice.
This voice is lower. Rougher. Too calm. Too sure.
I whip around, heart slamming against my ribs, but he’s already gone. Just trees. Just shadows. Just the camera still held out to the side, catching the ragged rise and fall of my chest.
The livestream is still running. It’s kind of pathetic how good I am at never dropping my arm or phone, even when this freaky shit is going on.
The chat is unhinged; comment after comment screaming in all caps, praising the realism, the brutality, the rawness. Theythink it’s part of the show. They think it was Jay. Hell,Ithought it was Jay. But Jay never fucks like that. Jay doesn’t stay silent. Jay doesn’t vanish after whispering a line that makes my spine feel like a cracked icicle.
I end the stream with shaking fingers. The silence that follows is deafening.
Panic barrels into me, pure and sharp. I clutch my phone tighter, nearly trip as I spin around, then tear off into the forest. Branches claw at my dress, my hair, my fraying nerves. My Converse pound the dirt, heartbeat screaming in my throat.
“Jay!” I yell. “If this is some sick joke, I swear to God?—”
He better have had an emergency. A flat tire. An arrest. A fucking dead parent. Because if he sent someone in his place without telling me, without asking, I’ll skin him alive.
Something blocks the path ahead. A dark shape, lumpy and low to the ground.
I slow down. My stomach drops.
“Jay?” I call out, voice too small. “Don’t mess with me.”
The shape doesn’t move.
I creep closer.
No. Please no.
It’s him. It’s Jay. He’s lying in a pool of black that only glints when moonlight catches it. His throat is slit wide open, eyes frozen, mouth parted in a final, confused breath. His pants are stained and wet. His skin is already losing color.
I take two steps back, then fall to my knees.
“No, no, no—” My fingers fumble with my phone. “Fuck, Jay. Wake up. This isn’t funny.”
I kick his foot. Hard. “Get up. I’m serious.”
He doesn’t move.
My hand flies to my mouth. I dial 911, thumb trembling so violently I nearly miss the buttons.
The dispatcher answers. I rattle off the name of the preserve, stumbling over the words like my mouth doesn’t quite work. I tell them I found my friend dead in the woods. Just like that. My friend. Dead.
I leave out the rest. I have to.
I don’t say I had sex with a stranger five minutes ago. That his cum is still warm between my thighs, soaked into the thin cotton of my thong.
I don’t say I thought it was Jay.
I don’t say I let him.
