Page 69 of Primal

And there—

The girl’s last act.

Hung upside down from an oak. Black latex split open—sternum to pelvis. Intestines, glistening, ropes of them. Arms out. Wrists slit.

A display. A message.

“I’ve seen Saw, boo. This ain’t new. And for the record—if this is your idea of foreplay, your dick game weak.”

The sound’s coming from inside her.

“Wanna say hi for the fans, Ghost Daddy?”

I grit my teeth. Here goes nothing.

The oak’s trunk is gnarled, easy footholds. I haul myself up.

Level with her now.

Her mouth’s carved into a leer, cheeks pulled taut.

The phone’s buried in the slick nest of her guts.

Fuck.

I reach out with one hand. The smell—copper and her perfume—hits like a sucker punch even through my mask.

Warmth gushes over my wrist.

“You gonna stab me now or later? I like a little build-up, you know.”

“Shut. Up,” I grit out.

Her laughter gurgles from inside the meat. “Oh, that tickles.”

The screen’s glowing inside the ruin of her abdomen, wedged between ribs. The more I dig, the more her insides slither out.

My fingers close around the goddamn phone. I yank it free.

The mess clings to me. I wipe it on the girl’s thigh. She’d appreciate the aesthetic.

I climb down fast, landing hard enough to rattle my teeth.

“Baby, I ain’t scared of no blade. You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want me to quit clownin’ on you from beyond.”

I swipe the screen. The video stops.

It’s a TikTok draft.

@VanessaGraves: POV: You’re getting murdered but your killer’s whack as hell.

#Ghostface #GhostDaddy #PrimalPlay #ScreamQueenSupreme

I replay it on mute, simply to see if she caught him on camera. Only a flash of his mask—Ghostface.

“How’s that for going viral?” I mutter, scrolling through her texts.

An unsent message—from him.