Final Girls(84)

“Because I need to get back as soon as possible.”

Because Sam knows things about me. Horrible things. Just as I know horrible things about her. Now I need to get her out of my life for good.

“Would it help if I went with you?”

“That’s sweet, but no. You still have work to take care of.”

You can’t go with me, Jeff. I’ve been lying to you. About many things. And if you find them out, you won’t want to be anywhere near me.

Once I’m packed and heading for the door, Jeff grabs me and pulls me tight against him. I long to remain in that exact spot, held in place, comforted. But that’s not possible. Not with Sam still in my life.

“Will you be okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” I tell him.

No. Despite what you might think, I’ll never be okay.

The plane is small, barely booked. A money-losing trip that exists solely to get the aircraft to JFK for a more profitable flight in the morning. I have an entire row to myself. After takeoff, I stretch across the empty seats.

Lying there, I do everything possible not to think about Sam. Nothing works. There’s no way to ignore the suspicion that skitters into my thoughts as if on spider legs. I imagine her dropping pills into Lisa’s wine glass, seeing her sip them into her system, waiting until they take effect. I picture Sam with the knife, slicing Lisa’s wrists, watching the results as she bites her fingernails.

Is she capable of doing such a thing?

Maybe.

Why would she do such a thing?

Because she was on the hunt for information about me. Perhaps she roped Lisa into helping her. But Lisa had second thoughts, pushed her away, threatened to kick her out. Now it’s my turn to do the same thing. I pray the results are different.

Somehow, I manage to sleep for most of the flight, although even that offers little relief. I dream of Sam sitting stiff-backed on my living room sofa. I’m in a chair across from her.

Did you kill Lisa Milner? I ask.

Did you kill those kids at Pine Cottage? she says.

You’re avoiding the question.

So are you.

Do you think I killed people at Pine Cottage?

Sam smiles, her lipstick so red it looks like her mouth has been smeared with blood. You’re a fighter. One who’ll do anything to survive. Just like me.

A flight attendant snaps me awake as we make our descent into New York. I get into the upright position, shaking the dream away. I look out the window, the night sky and plane’s interior lights turning it into an oval mirror. I barely recognize the reflection staring back at me.

I can’t remember the last time I did.





Pine Cottage, 10:14 p.m.

In the bedroom, Craig wasted no time in shedding his pants. Quincy didn’t even realize they were off until he was on top of her, kissing her, pushing the dress up to her stomach while grinding hard against her inner thigh. When he reached for Quincy’s breasts, she put her hands over his, nodding her consent.

She was ready for this. Janelle had prepared her. She knew what to expect. She was a vestal virgin, tossed upon the altar, waiting for eternity.

But then Craig’s breathing grew ragged and rough. When he slid his knees between her legs and pried them open, Quincy’s whole body tensed.

“Wait,” she murmured.

“Just relax,” Craig said. His face was buried against her neck, sucking it, skin sticking to his hungry mouth.

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

Craig made another attempt at parting her legs with his knees. Quincy kept them shut, thigh muscles straining.

“Stop.”

Craig thrust his mouth upon hers, his flopping tongue silencing her. He was heavy on top of her, pinning her down, breathing like a bull while bucking against her closed thighs. Quincy felt like she was being smothered, suffocated. Craig’s hands fell from her breasts to her knees, prying at them.

”Stop,” Quincy said, putting more force into it this time. “I mean it.”

She gave Craig a shove, slid out from under him and sat up, back against the headboard. Craig’s smile lasted a few more seconds before fading as realization set in.

“I thought we agreed to do this,” he said.

“We did.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Quincy didn’t know if there even was a problem. Her body pulsed with desire, aching for Craig to be on top of her, against her, inside her. Yet a small part of her knew it didn’t have to be like this. If they continued, it would be rushed and blunt, almost like they were following another one of Janelle’s stupid rules.

“I want it to be special.”

She thought that would make Craig less angry. That he would see how much this really meant to her. Instead, he said, “That’s a myth, Quinn. The first time is never special.”

The words confirmed something Quincy had always suspected but never wanted to ask. This wasn’t Craig’s first time. He had been through this before. The revelation felt to Quincy like a betrayal, small yet painful.

“I thought you knew,” Craig said, easily reading her thoughts.

“I just assumed you were, too.”

“I never told you I was a virgin. I’m sorry if that’s what you thought, but it wasn’t my doing.”

“I know,” Quincy said.