A link popped on the screen.
I clicked and was immediately redirected to TikTok. The clip that started was familiar. I was wearing my burgundy pantsuit now packed in the suitcase under the horribly large antlers hanging on the wall, and my Louboutin heels. The memory might have been blocked or buried somewhere in my head, but I recognized the clip that had flipped my life upside down. I knew what came next. I was about to—
A techno beat started playing. Although it wasn’t a beat. Not really. It was the rip of the polyester of Sparkles’s costume that was being repeated—looped—to create a beat. With horror, I heard more sounds being added to the mix. My grunts. Growls. Squawky sounds that had left me and I couldn’t recall. Paul’s “What the fuck.” All of it. And it was…
“Horrible,” I heard myself whisper.
Appalling. Really.
Because I was a remix now. A song.
My eyes closed as I remained there, the thirty-second techno mix echoing around the cabin in a loop. I felt a burst of pressure climbing up my sternum, and a noise that sounded a lot like a sob left my mouth. But I knew it wasn’t one because I didn’t cry. I wouldn’t. Or couldn’t. So my eyes remained dry.
I reminded myself I was an unbothered queen. A queen of ice.
Then, I swallowed it all up, shook my head, pushed that pressure down, as deep and far as it would go, and returned to my messaging app.
ADALYN: Impressive.
Matthew sent one of those gifs I didn’t understand. But I didn’t ask this time. I was on a mission. This wasn’t important, and I was brushing it off.
ADALYN: So people are in need of more productive things to do with their free time. What’s new?
MATTHEW:…
MATTHEW: You okay?
ADALYN: I’m not spiraling, if that’s what you’re asking.
MATTHEW: You sure? This is a lot. It would be okay if you were… I don’t know. Running naked into the woods screaming bloody murder just out of pure frustration or something.
I rolled my eyes.
ADALYN: That’s very specific.
ADALYN: Is that how you picture someone spiraling? In the nude?
MATTHEW: I picture everyone naked. Even you. I’m a simple man with a simple enough imagination. It’s Occam’s razor theory.
ADALYN: That’s not what Occam’s razor means.
MATTHEW: You know what I mean.
I actually did.
ADALYN: Well, I’m not spiraling. Or naked.
MATTHEW: Okay. I believe you. But… call me if you need me, yeah?
ADALYN: Sure. Good night.
MATTHEW:… You’re such a bad liar. Night, Addy.
Yes. I was lying about both things.
With a sigh, I locked my phone and plugged it into my charger. I rolled on the bed, incapable of shaking that strange pressure off. As much as I tried my hardest not to give it any importance, learning of the remix had affected me. The clip was still getting attention. I was still viral. I was #LadyBirdinator, for crying out loud. And the girls—the kids of the team I was supposed to manage and use to create a success story that would redeem me and buy me a ticket back to Miami—had already found out about it. Josie had laughed it off, even bought my explanation about it being an accident. But it was a matter of time before the whole town knew and saw that video.
A very specific set of green eyes popped into my mind. I don’t think you’ll make it a single night there.
I shook myself, as if that would help shove that man’s face out of my head. I needed to relax if I ever wanted to get any sleep, and Cameron Caldani had the opposite effect. So I focused on loosening up my limbs and tried to keep my mind blank.
The tune of the techno remix slammed right back into me.
“God,” I muttered, reaching out for my AirPods.
I put them in, grabbed my phone, and hit play on a podcast.
“Hello, my true crime lovers,” the voice of my favorite podcaster started. The guy’s voice wasn’t as deep as Cameron’s, but he had a very similar accent. Which was ironic. And unimportant. I closed my eyes and let out a breath. “In today’s episode I will be taking you along with me to the wildest tundra of Alaska. So lock your doors, sit back in your comfiest chair, and let’s travel back in time, to the case of the Alaska’s slaughterer of…”
Head burrowed in the pillow, I focused on the soothing tone and rich images painted in my mind. This was an episode I’d been saving for a rainy day, but as I ventured into the story, I wasn’t so soothed by that voice anymore. And the images were no longer rich and in my mind. They were spooky and disturbingly familiar. Specifically the antlers that—
Something cackled in the cabin. Or cracked. Or creaked.
I paused the episode.
I sat up very slowly and searched the shadows filling up the cabin, praying that I was imagining things. But the truth is that I’d never had a great imagination. And I was sure I’d heard something on the other side of the cabin.
Another creak echoed. This one closer.