Chris’s body lay slumped on the ground. I nudged him with the toe of my boot, holding my breath. He didn’t move, and from where I stood, I could see a halo of dark-red blood spreading out on the ground beneath him. Sorry, Chris #2.
Satisfied he was dead, I slunk through the shadows like a ghost, avoiding the lights of the cabin as I drew near.
Surely, Valerie heard the gunshot. Any minute now, she’ll come running out … shell-shocked and afraid …
But, no—as I returned to the cabin, I could hear the thumping base of hip-hop music playing loudly inside. She is celebrating her victory.
Celebrating my demise.
The music only grew louder as I approached the backdoor. It was still ajar from when Chris and I had left earlier … Good, this will be easy. Too easy …
But then two white lights came rushing toward me, gravel dust flying around wildly. I watched in horror as the vehicle stopped right behind Chris’s limp body on the ground.
The lights flipped off, then I heard the slamming of a car door. I pressed my back against the side of the cabin, watching.
And then I saw his scruffy hair, those dweeby professor’s shoes … Lincoln was bent down over Chris’s body. He was checking for a pulse.
Fuck.
Lincoln stood up and turned around in circles. He obviously knows I’m here—he must have passed my truck on the way in.
There’s no other choice.
I have to tell him the truth.
I emerged from the shadows and stepped into the light. Clearing my throat, I said, “Lincoln.”
“Oh my god!” He came running toward me, his face glimmering with relief. “Are you okay, Camilla?”
“I feel better now.”
He stopped six feet away from me, staring down at the gun in my hand. I tried to tuck it behind my back, but it was too late for that.
“What happened?” His eyes widened in fear.
“I had no other choice.” There was no time to make up a lie. Maybe if I told him the truth, he’d understand …
“It was all a prank, Lincoln. A horrible, stupid, mean prank. A way for Valerie to make fun of me, to use my desperation to gain more followers …”
“Huh?” Lincoln’s face scrunched up in confusion.
“I couldn’t let him live,” I said, solemnly. “I can’t let her live either.”
Lincoln took a few steps back and started digging for something in his pocket. For a brief second, I almost expected him to pull out a gun. Instead he held up his shiny black cell phone.
“I’m calling for help, okay?”
I shook my head and raised my gun. “No. I can’t let you do that. Why the fuck did you come here anyway?”
Lincoln frowned. “I had to. I was worried about you. I had a feeling you’d come here, from the moment you messaged me the license-plate number.”
“You shouldn’t have come,” I snapped.
“Listen. It’s going to be okay; I promise. We’ll explain what happened to the police. We will figure this out.”
Looking at his face, the soft, worried expression in his eyes … I almost believed his intentions. I think he likes me … he really does.
And maybe in another life, another alternate reality of this shit show … maybe we could have had something. Another route, another choice …
“I’m sorry,” I told him.
Lincoln froze, the phone still gripped in his hand. “Sorry for what?”
“For everything.” I raised the gun and fired a second shot.