“She uh…” Beck inhales sharply, staring at a hole in the old wooden walls. “She always envisioned one of us would have one of those Pinterest weddings: Prince Charming groom, meadow maternity photoshoot. Paisley would’ve done it. I…”
I seek out Beck’s gaze, stepping close enough that I can see the redness in her eyes. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Your dad seems like a real champion for you. Let him fight that battle with your mom. She just wants you to be happy in the end, right?” I smile. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll still get married and throw her a bone.”
Beck breaks into a smile. “I’m going to get married in the most rustic, obscure, out-of-the-way place just to make her hike there in her heels. The ultimate catharsis.”
“There’s also nothing wrong with being a zipline guide.”
She laughs, a sound that breaks the tension in the room. “I’m sure the pay’s shit, but yeah.” She looks over at me, gaze heavy. “What do you wanna do?”
“Design movie posters. Do some kind of illustration for a living. I’m getting better at portraits, so that’s cool. Just hoping that the entire profession doesn’t get replaced by AI…”
Beck’s eyes widen. “Wait. Paisley has some portrait in her room. Did you draw that?”
I blush. “Yeah.”
“Shit, that thing’s amazing!” She puts her hand on my arm. “You’re really good.”
I don’t think a peer I know in real life has ever shown that much enthusiasm for my work. Teachers, my bosses at work, strangers on the internet, sure. But there’s something about Beck, the light in her blue eyes and the way eagerness spreads to her whole body that makes me feel it in a way I haven’t before.
Beck, standing here, acknowledging she thinks I’m talented while her touch has my nerves coming to life from my arm to heart, brain, and everywhere beyond that.
I fall a little in love with her in that moment.
“Thank you,” I mutter, butterflies flapping in my stomach as the real animal flitters around beyond this old structure.
Images flood my head of what happens after this. It’s not clear what we discover on this trip, but we’re back home. I could go try out a million hobbies and career paths with Beck until she finds something that makes her as happy as art makes me. We could go to horror movies together, and I could show her behind-the-scenes at the Mystic Museum and draw her as many pictures as she wants. I could take her out to dinner with my family the next time we go somewhere fun and show her what a low-key dynamic can look like. We could finally have a connection that’s real. Maybe…maybe that moment in the tent wasn’t a fluke. Maybe there’s more than just a platonic friendship—
Cold rushes through me.
I’m imagining a happy ending for us that started with the slaughter of her sister and my friends.
What kind of a monster does that?
I try to inhale, but my breath catches. I try again, and same thing.I need to breathe, list five things, but the room is disappearing around me. I can smell the rustic smell of blood, the heavy, sickly sweet of rotting flesh and dead leaves and animal feces and whatever else was in that cave they found Paisley in, and—
I put my hand to my chest, feeling my heartbeat against my fingertips. I’m panicking. There’s no blood, there are no bodies. But I could do with some fresh air.
“I’m gonna take a breather,” I say.
I walk out the door, the green calming me enough to stop the lurch of panic but not enough to get my fucking brain to shut up. What are we hoping to find here? Some signs that my friends were ritually sacrificed piece by piece by someone who thinks they were possessed by a witch? Their parts eaten and the rest methodically planted over the cliff? What even happens after that? Where does a horrible story like this end? What happens to Beck if we even find out? What happens to me? Is it supposed to make me feel okay feeling grateful I’m not dead? Make the abandonment I felt seem worth it? I know it is. I know I’d rather be alive and rejected than dead.
This whole trip has felt like a nightmare, paths suddenly appearing out of nowhere with no clear sign as to what they mean. And this ghost town feels like the ultimate labyrinth. Are we even at the final location where the deaths took place or is there more for us to uncover?
I put my head between my knees and wait for my racing thoughts to lose their bite. The sun feels nice on my back, and there’s a soft breeze running through my hair. It smells like pine needles again. Slowly, I stand back up and prepare to explain to Beck that I’m fine, actually. The loss of control is not good for me, and it’s only going to get worse, but I can’t hyperfocus on that right now.
And just like that, I spy something half-buried near the foundationof one of the homes before I can find Beck. Like someone’s looking out for me.
I bend down and brush away the dust.
It’s a tool. A pair of pliers.
Modern pliers, I realize as I pour some of my water over it.
My stomach drops.
There’s blood on these things. Dried blood soaked into the shine of the metal.
Then Beck screams.
