Page 119 of Trick or Stalk

I stare at the mask.

I could put it back.

Walk out.

Go home and read the rest of the fucking romance novel like a normal psychopath.

Instead, I carry it to the register.

The teenager scans it. “Good choice.”

I look at him.

He points toward the mask. “Creepy.”

“That's the idea.”

He tells me the total.

I pay cash.

“Costume party?”

“Something like that.”

He puts the mask into a black plastic bag and hands it to me.

“Have fun.”

I take it.

“I plan to.”

The bag sits on the passenger seat.

I stare at it at the next red light.

This is a bad idea.

Presley is already nervous.

Checking locks.

Looking toward the woods.

Questioning things she sees and hears.

But beneath her fear is something else. Something I can almost taste.

The light turns green.

My foot presses the gas.

At the edge of town, I reach over and pull the mask from the bag. Empty black eyes stare back at me.

I think about Presley.

The book she recommended.