Page 11 of My Girl

Why did he ask for help though?

I should leave. This has nothing to do with my father and everything to do with the fact that an abandoned house is being used by random people. Those people may be dangerous.

But sex leads to distraction, and having footage gives you power.

I crouch down, squinting, trying to get my eyes to adjust.

Finally, I see it.

The outline of three people. A man tied to a support beam. A woman on her hands and knees, and a man fucking her from behind, his profile distorted, almost like he has a mask clinging to his face.

A tingling sensation starts in my chest, then spreads to my limbs. I flex my fingers, then carefully creep down a few more steps into the darkness. The masked man is covered in black fabric. The material seems almost glued to him, making him more like a toy action figure than a human being. An open zipper frames his mouth. The metal elements of the zipper gleam like fangs.

His masked face turns in my direction. I freeze in the shadows of the stairs, not daring to breathe until he turns back to the woman before him.

He rips a knife from his back pocket and stabs the woman’s side. She grunts before going limp, and the man tied in front of her wails, each sob squawking out of him like an angry bird.

My jaw drops. Each sense heightens, everything at its peak. My mouth is chalky. My pulse races in my temples. I clench and unclench my free hand, as if I can summon a knife to protect myself. What should I do?

I’m a witness to another murder in this house.

This masked man could kill me too.

If I had a weapon, I could killhim.

I should call for help.

I should do something.

I should run.

I need to leave.

I can’t leave. I should?—

“Please. Just…” the bound man begs. “Just kill me.”

The phone keeps recording in the darkness. My body tightens like it’s bracing for a tornado to sweep me away. I’m stuck.

Terror runs cold in my chest.

I don’twantto move.

I can’t.

“Beg me,” the masked man says, his voice low and rough.

“P-p-please,” the man sobs. “Kill me. Please.”

The masked man runs a gloved hand over his groin, then he stabs the man’s stomach, pulling the knife down, his intestines slopping to the ground like spilled chili.

I hold my breath. I’m transfixed by the masked man. The dark clothes. The thump of his heavy combat boots. Even the mask which must have sheer material covering his eyes.

The masked man faces me. Even though I can’t see his eyes, I know he’s watching me. It’s like he knows I’ve been here this entire time. Like he killed these people just to show me he could. To warn me that I’m next.

I blink rapidly, but it doesn’t feel real. Things like this don’t happen. But choices always have consequences. Sometimes, there are twisted results. Like choosing to be in an abandoned house after midnight, then watching a masked man murder two people.

And he’s about to take your life too,my brain screams.