Page 90 of Camera Stays On

Darius lifted his hands. “I’m just a schoolteacher. Sawyer knew I needed a job during my off time, and he offered me one.”

“I play minor league hockey.” Mick pushed his hair back, his cheeks flaming red. We all turned to Juliet, waiting for her answer. She fidgeted with her nails, pretending there was something more interesting on them than our current conversation. When she couldn’t avoid us any longer, she threw her head back and huffed.

“What do you want me to say? That I’m in love with a man who doesn’t love me? Sawyer has led me on for a year now, and my delusional self keeps thinking this will be the thing that gets him to commit. It’s pathetic, I’m fully aware.”

“You really did those things for...” I couldn’t even fathom what she was saying.

“For good dick? Yeah, Purdy, I did. Like you don’t know what Sawyer is like.” Her attempt at malice fell flat. I raised my shoulders and frowned.

“I really don’t. Sawyer was awful to me.”

That was what she didn’t seem to get. We weren’t fighting for the same man. Even five years ago, when I was actively agreeing to marry him, if someone else had come along wanting him, I wouldn’t have argued. I had been with Sawyer out of expectation and almost dutiful reasons. Sure, I’d loved him, and we’d had a healthy sex life. But... real love? Love that made your belly flutter when they came into the room, or your mouth curve upward when they said your name?

No.

I’d reflected on this many, many times during my five-year hiatus from this life. I had loved Sawyer like a brother more than a lover. I listened when he spoke and followed his every direction, never stepping out of line. He told me we were getting married when I was a little girl, and I listened. Not because it was this sweet, romantic gesture that we could tell our kids and grandkids one day, but because he made me feel as if I had no other option. It was marry him, or...

I gulped, my mind returning to the situation at hand. The very situation I’d been trying to avoid all those years ago when agreeing to be his had still somehow happened.

He was going to kill us all.

Because, like he said. We were in his movie, and the director always got his shot.

Chapter 39

Andi

“WAS JUST MAKING a movie not good enough for you?” Asher said to Sawyer, who was still hiding and speaking to us via the intercom system. We still weren’t sure where the cameras were or where the intercom was. “I don’t understand your reasoning here, Sawyer.”

There was a long moment of pure silence as we waited for him to say something. So long that Juliet stood and began to clean up the area Bea had made a mess of when she escaped. She was picking up the bandages and scissors, when suddenly, we heard a button click.

“I told you, I needed authenticity. It was clear that despite hiring attractive enough people, not one of you could act. Do you remember The Blair Witch Project? How long did the world think that those people had really died? Or Paranormal Activity? Hell House, Grave Encounters, The Poughkeepsie Tapes even. They were scary because people thought they were real. Well, in my movie, it is real. They’ll think I paid you to disappear. I’ll be critically acclaimed. I’ll be the new face of horror, Ash. Everyone will know Sawyer Delambre.”

“You’re delusional, you know that?” I shouted. “I sat there every Saturday night, watching those movies with you guys, Sawyer. This is nothing like them. You’ve got it all wrong.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what point I was trying to prove. Would my opinion change his mind? I doubted it. But did it fill the silence for a moment? Briefly. Desperation hit an all-time low, and I swallowed my pride.

“You need to let us out, Sawyer. Unlock the doors. Let us go.” Each word came out slow and cautious, as if navigating a land mine.

There was another long pause.

“You want out? Fine. Every man for themselves. Last one standing gets the keys to the front door and the tapes from this with directions on where to send them. And...I’ll even give you my special tape of Asher, making his first movie. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“You bastard,” Asher snarled beside me.

“What about you?” Darius stood up abruptly. “Wouldn’t you still be alive, or do we kill you too?”

“You can fucking try.”

The fuzzy sound came after the intercom ceased, and I think we all had the same thought. This was the last time we would be hearing from him.

We looked around the room.

This wasn’t Grave Encounters, this was fucking Saw.

Did we turn on each other, or fight back against the man behind the camera? Would we kill for our freedom? The question lingered for a long, heavy moment. No one seemed to want to be the person to talk about it.

Asher broke the silence. “We don’t need to listen to his delusional bullshit.”