“Sebastian, you there?”
“Yeah, I just gotta find string.” I said, wiping the paperclips off with my hand.
“You got any fishing line?”
I blinked. Did I?
“Thanks. I gotta go.” I hung up and ran downstairs out to my garage. Bryce and I had gone out on his boat a handful of times. Quickly, I found my tackle box and pulled out a spool of fishing line. Staring at the two objects, I knew this wasn’t ideal, but I took it back up to Evie anyways and showed her the paperclip and thread. I dropped to my knees at her side.
“Okay, Final Girl, you really need to work with me. We need to seal this up here. If we take you to the hospital, they’ll report it, and you were just filmed on television at the charity event. They’ll start putting pieces together, and we can’t have that. Can you sit still,please?” I pleaded with her, placing a kiss on her damp forehead. She closed her eyes and nodded.
Straightening the thin metal instrument, I pressed the thread against it and poked her skin, and it refused to go in. Frowning, I thought back and remembered what Bryce had said.
“What are you doing?” Evie asked as I leaned back and pulled out my cigarette case. “You really need a cigarette right now?”
I ignored her, opening it and removing the lighter. Flicking it on, I ran the paperclip over the flame.
“Relax, Final Girl.”
“What are you doing?”
“Sanitizing before shoving it through your skin.”
“Sanitizing?” She stretched her neck to see.
“Yeah, it’s a fucking paperclip I found on my desk covered in dust. Do you really trust that it’s clean?” I pointed out.
She scrunched up her nose and relaxed back, breathing slow and steady.
Unsure of when it would be hot enough, I decided to just estimate, waiting until the silver metal turned bright red. I then blew on it impatiently, counting to sixty before taking my other hand and pushing her skin around the wound together to shove the makeshift needle through.
Evie grunted loudly, as if I’d socked her in the belly, and she whimpered as I pulled the line through. Despite feeling the urgency, I knew I had to take this slow so as to not do more damage.
This was going to be a long process.
I kept going as methodically as I could, muttering low words of comfort to Evie as I worked. Sweat built on my brow, dropping onto the bed, until finally, I pulled the last of her wound closed. Using the lighter again, I separated the line from the spool and tied it as neatly as I could.
As I’d worked, Evie slowly had started to relax, but only once I stood and announced it was done did her body untense. A moment later, she started to sob. I helped her lie all the way down, and then I crawled into bed with her, clothes still on, and comforted her as best I could while paying attention to the wound. She fell asleep in my arms, and I fell asleep sitting up, guarding her.
She woke in the middle of the night, and I got her more water and pills, thankful we didn’t have work today or tomorrow. Hopefully, she’d be walking by then.
By morning, she was resting peacefully.
I stayed by her side all day, getting her anything she needed when she was awake and doing what investigating I could while she was asleep. I knew it was Arthur Englund who’d stabbed her. I just wasn’t sure why he did it in such a public place and why he hadn’t finished the job. Was he sending a message, or was he that bad at murder?
Evie sat up for the first time almost twenty-four hours after the attack. She was sore, her face puffy from crying, but she was alive.
“You’re really fucking lucky.” I chuckled, still in disbelief that I’d managed to seal a wound with a paperclip and fishing line.
“This isn’t funny,” she snarled.
I paused, surprised. “I didn’t say it was. I just— It was scary for a minute. I wasn’t sure you—”
“I what?” She stood, wobbling on her feet.
I jumped up to catch her, but she pushed me away. She limped to my closet, pulling a shirt off a hanger, along with a pair of basketball shorts, slid the clothes on. I stood to watch so I could catch her if she fell.
“Evie, you need to rest.” I sighed. “We can’t have a repeat of last night.”
