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Ten
HIM
Connelly’s character hugs the monkey, and the credits roll. I look at Gwen, who stares at my television intently, her face scrunched as she thinks. I’ve enjoyed hearing her opinions on the horror films we’ve been watching, and I’m curious to hear her take on this one.
After letting her ruminate for another minute, I ask, “What do you think?”
“It was … interesting, I suppose.” She leans back into the cushion of the couch. “Argento films are unique. But to be honest, this one’s a bit too sci-fi for me. Personally, I think his best is Suspiria.”
“It’s a really hard one to top,” I say, getting up to rewind the tape.
“Yeah. And the kills are so brutal.” She closes her eyes for a moment. “I still get chills when I think about that scene with the glass shards.”
I smirk at her from where I crouch by the television stand,morethan intrigued by her admission. “You can take the girl out of horror, but you can’t take the horror out of the girl.”
She gives me a sly smile and comically glances around before bringing her index finger to her lips in a shushing motion. “Don’t tell anyone. But I kind of liked it.”
I think of my knife kissing her neck, blood dripping down her throat in rivulets as I slide into her tight, wet heat, whispering how badly I want to kill her with every thrust. “Me too.” I try to ignore the hardness growing in my pants and attempt to divert the subject. “Wanna watch something else? We could switch to an old comedy or something.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m good.” She rises and heads for the kitchen. “We can stick with horror. I’m gonna make some more popcorn, if that sounds good to you.”
“Go ahead.” I look through the movies from our stack we rented from Epic Flix. “Any preference?”
“How aboutCandyman?” she replies, putting the bag into the microwave. “It might surprise you how much that one tugs at the heartstrings.”
My dark desires almost put me in a trance at her innocent suggestion, but I try to channel my thoughts elsewhere as I wait for Creepers to rewind. Gwen still comes over to my place under the guise of ‘wanting to enrich’ my cinema knowledge, even though her oven has been fixed. But I know she enjoys more than just my cooking.
By the end of the night, she’ll be begging for my cock.
It’ll start with the simplest of gestures—a glass of wine, some conversation. Add in subtle touches, running my fingers through her hair, leaning in close when we talk before going in for the kill. Metaphorically, of course.
The microwave beeps, and I hear her open it and shake the bag. I’m about to settle on the couch when loud music thumps from across the hall, so loud that it’s already shaking my walls.Great, cockblocked. All because that fucking druggie is having a party again. I groan and get up to investigate. “Sorry, Gwen. Let me take care of this.”
She pours the popcorn into a large bowl. “Some people are just so damn inconsiderate.”
My smile is strained as I open the door and see college kids gathered in the hallway, drinking and laughing. “Hey, guys,” I say. “Can you turn the music down a bit?”
One of them looks at me and shrugs. “Sorry, man. Not my party.”
But you’re probably using it to get connected with Alex’s drug dealer for your fucking stimulants, I think, the muscle in my jaw ticking with barely concealed rage.
“Yo, Blake,” Alex begins, sliding out from the open door. “Here for the goods? I can hook you up real nice. You look like you need something to mellow you out.”
“I’m fine, thank you very much,” I snap, my patience wearing paper-thin. Drawing in a deep breath, I force my face into an expression of neutrality. “I get it. Parties are meant to be fun. But it’s getting late and people need their rest. Could you at least please turn the music down so everyone can get some sleep?”
The other guys shift uncomfortably, but Alex just laughs. “Sure, Blake. We’ll keep it down to a dull roar. You don’t need to get your panties in a knot over it.”
I ball my hands into fists, desperate to keep my temper under control. Gwen slips through the door and watches us, her eyes flitting from my hands to my face, her expression unreadable. I can’t blow my cover; Blake is a man of patience, not violence. Alex heads into his apartment and turns down the music with a remote, but not until after he’s shot us a smug grin from inside.
As I’m about to speak, there’s a crash from below. Gwen and I exchange looks, her face paling. Without hesitation, she speeds down to the floor below in search of the commotion, leaving me no time to stop her. I swear under my breath as I rush after her, taking two steps at a time.
When I reach the floor below, I find Gwen standing in front of her apartment door—which has been ripped off its hinges and left toppled in the middle of the hall. She’s trembling, her eyes locked on something inside her apartment.
I hurry to her side. “What happened?” I ask quietly, trying to keep my voice calm.
She doesn’t answer, instead pointing to her lit apartment without a word. I tense up, ready to fight if necessary, and step inside. Someone has slashed her wallpaper and vandalized it with graffiti. The perpetrator showed no mercy towards her belongings, throwing many of them on the floor and even breaking some. “Stay there,” I order, glimpsing Gwen over my shoulder before going further in.
I step around a broken toaster and a busted CD case to examine the wall. There’s a crudely scrawled threat written in red paint:
