Page 50 of We’re All Going to Die Tonight!

Javi’s trying to grab for something at his waist as he dodges the blade coming for his face, and I realize with a jolt that it’s the knife from the kitchen, tucked into his belt. He manages to get ahold of it; then, just as he pulls it free, the attacker slices his upper arm, and Javi drops it.

I don’t think. I race forward, dive into the mud for the knife, and grab it. I plunge it blindly, and now it’s not just Kaitlyn screaming.

I’m screaming, too.

And so is someone else.

I’m breathing hard. Someone is lifting me up and pulling me away, and I’m still screaming.

“Holy shit, Marlene,” Javi says, and for a second, I don’t understand why.

Until I see the attacker on the ground, the knife lodged in his leg.

Tears streak down my cheeks, and my throat is shredded from the screaming. I look up, and Javi and Kaitlyn are staring at me in disbelief—her face whiter and paler than I’ve ever seen it.

“He was going to kill you,” I say, forcing out the words. “I—I couldn’t let h-him.”

The attacker’s cries reach a fever pitch.

“Who the fuck are you?” Javi demands, turning on the writhing person on the ground. I’m still struggling to breathe, and I taste metal. I must’ve bitten my tongue at some point, blood slipping between my teeth.

“I asked you a question, asshole,” Javi says, but the person doesn’t answer. They’re wheezing and clutching their leg, seemingly unable to pull their eyes from the knife sticking out of their thigh. Javi bends down and grabs the stranger by the shoulder, forcing them to turn around, to show their face, and Javi and Kaitlyn gasp at the same time.

I blink past the rain and the tears, and the stranger comes into focus before me. I see through the mud and the blood caked all over their face, and then I notice their pants. Bougie-ass pajama pants that I should’ve clocked immediately.

Emerson.

Chapter 26

Kaitlyn

October 17

2:15 a.m.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

It takes a second to see that it really is Emerson Butler underneath all that blood and bullshit. His usual cocksure attitude is nowhere to be found at the moment, though, which feels appropriate, given the knife in his leg.

“What the fuck?” Emerson shouts, hands shaking, close to, but not actually, touching the knife in his leg. “What the actual fuck?”

He’s in shock, obviously. I’ve seen girls go into shock after a particularly brutal injury during games and practices, but Emerson’s shrieks are worse than those of any of the girls I’ve heard.

I bend down, take the knife he dropped, and pull back his hood, revealing his blood-covered hair. I stand up and take a step back, watching as the rain carves lines of clarity through the red on his face. As everything washes away, it’s easy to see that, yes: It is Emerson, covered in even more blood and injuries than before.

“Fucking told you,” Javi growls, lunging forward. “I told you it was him.”

I grab Javi’s arm before he can get to Emerson. Sure, he definitely looks like a murderer, but he needs to catch his breath and explain himself. Not because I’ll believe any of his bullshit. But I want to see him try to weasel out of this, just so I know exactly what his story is before I stomp it into the ground. And it’s not like he can run away or anything.

“I’m not a murderer!” Emerson stammers, coughing on the last syllables as he sucks in a breath of air. “I was holding up the knife because I thought you were him—”

Behind me, Marlene’s murmuring something I can’t make out.

“Shit, this really fucking hurts,” Emerson says, hand shaking over the knife. He glares past me at Marlene. “Do you see what you did, bitch?”

“Hey,” I snap at him. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Emerson all but shouts. “She stabbed me in the leg!”