Emma Simmons, Sports Editor|May 9, 2022
Coming to a theater near you. (Photo from Google)
There was a scuffling sound somewhere to my right, followed by a clack. I took a deep breath and counted to five before opening my eyes, finding myself looking up at a dark warehouse ceiling. The only light flickered from a dusty lightbulb right above me, and my gaze lingered on it for a moment before I allowed myself to react. Sitting up, I noticed there was a figure slumped against the wall. I slid off the table that I was lying on, pushing my dark hair out of my face so they could see my reaction. Drew, my friend of 15 years, had chains around his middle that kept him pressed against the shelves behind him, almost unconscious. He looked up at me with a black eye and swollen lip, and I fell to his side with a gasp when I saw the blade shoved into his shoulder.
"Mary," he groaned, seeing me crouching down near him. He reached up, and grabbed my dark jacket, and I grasped his hand, mostly to keep the blood on his fingers from staining my shirt.
"Who did this to you?" I asked, touching the wound gingerly. He winced.
"You know who it was…" Drew said between ragged breaths. His pallor skin showed just how much blood he had lost, "I… I told you not to trust him… he's… dangerous…"
I let tears well up in my eyes.
"I know you did, Drew. I know you did. I'm sorry," I choked out, "Stay with me, Drew. Please… I need you here."
Drew shook his head slowly, and when I met his eyes, I almost had to suppress a smile. How stupid would it be to smile at that moment? It could have ruined everything. Drew started coughing, blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth.
"Maristella…" Drew whispered, his voice ragged, "Get out of here. It's… not… safe…"
With that, he shuddered and then went limp. I paused for a few beats, still holding his hand.
One tear falls.
Then I hear it.
There were footsteps behind me. Someone knocked over a box of paperclips, and they scattered across the floor. I scrambled backward, almost tripping on Drew's still leg with my high-heeled boots. Why is it always high heels? I turned and started fighting my way through the maze of shelves and boxes, acting lost though I knew the way.
My body braced for impact before it happened.
"Maristella!" Renee exclaims as she slams into me. I have the mind to tell her off for ramming into me so hard, but instead, I hug her (as I should), turning my head to keep her frizzy black hair from getting in my eyes.
"Why are we here?!" she asked frantically, and we both pulled away from each other, "What's happening?!"
"It's Linus," I responded quietly. Renee's brown eyes searched mine for a moment, and I continued with a grave tone, "He took us here. He's still mad about what happened, and now he wants revenge. He killed Drew, and I have a feeling he's not stopping there."
"Drew? He killed Drew?"
"I was…" my voice cracked, "I was there when he died."
Renee pressed a hand to her mouth, and tears welled up in her eyes. She hugged me tightly again, but jumped back when a second bang came from behind us, with another scatter of paper clips spilling just in front of us. I tried not to roll my eyes at the hilarity of the visual. There was a look I had to maintain.
"We have to find a way out of here," I said, grabbing her shoulders to show the urgency of the situation. She nodded, and we both set off down the rows, trying to keep a steady pace without revealing our location.
I was thrown into a deeper darkness as the light above us shattered in a spray of sparks, and Renee's screams echoed off the metal walls. I grimaced inwardly, knowing I was still being watched. She could have done better with voice projection, and I bet she knows it.
"Renee!" I call out as loudly as I can. It's against my better judgment, but it's what's expected of me.
I feel a presence behind me, hot breath on my neck. I shiver and turn around, and there's a masked figure standing there. The red glare of his eyes through the slits betrays his identity. It's Linus.
"Thought you could escape, Maristella?" he asks in a low growl. Again, I suppress a grin. It's not the time for that. He looks at me like a wild animal looks at its prey, "I would never let you out alive. Surely you know that."
Of course, I knew. Everyone knew. But I shook my head in disbelief.
"Linus," I try in my calmest voice, "I didn't mean to-"
"DON'T LIE TO ME"
He slammed his fist against the side of a stack of boxes, and they all tumbled over, making a loud bang on the floor. We were both silent for a moment while the sound died out, then he adjusted his mask, which made him look like an albino rhino with a bashed in snout and broken horn. Again, tacky.
"I'm gonna kill you, Maristella," he said, pulling a knife out of his back pocket, "Like you did to my brother… you shouldn't have ever put him on that plane."
"Linus, please, how was I supposed to know-"
I was cut off again as he began to charge toward me, the remaining lights glinting off the poorly cleaned blade.
As we dashed and wove through boxes and shelves, my breathing becoming heavier with every sharp turn, I had to remind myself to keep a straight or fearful expression. It felt like a game, running through the maze, and I was close to laughing about the intensity of it all.
I tripped on a wire that ran across the floor, landing hard on the ground. I turned in time to see Linus jump on top of me, pinning my arms and legs down and cutting through the sleeves of my jacket, then cutting a jagged line across my jaw. I grimaced and fought though there was no pain or fear.
We met eyes one last time, and he drove the knife into my chest, dowsing my front in cold blood. I let out a scream, and the lights cut out. I felt Linus loosen his grip on me as I willed myself to go limp…
"Cut!" yells a voice somewhere to the right. The overhead lights flooded the scene in light, and Drew, still as pale and bruised as ever, was standing over me, holding out a hand to help me to my feet. I took it with a smile even though the bag of fake blood I had pressed up against my front was still leaking down my front and onto my shoes.
"Alright, given that we've tried that scene about ten times, I think that's as close as we're going to get today," our director said, looking between us. Renee had joined, and Linus had taken off his mask, wiping sweat off his forehead and working to remove his red contacts.
"Finally," Renee sighed, rubbing her throat, "I wasn't sure how much more screaming I could take today."
"Don't think you're off the hook," the director scolded good-naturedly, "You could have done better on the last one, and we don't settle for 'good enough.' The audio editors are going to have a fit, but I want this to be perfect."
I chuckled, shaking my head, and Drew bumped me in the shoulder.
"I noticed you almost smiled at my death scene," he said, raising his eyebrows with a playfully hurt expression.
"That's not my fault," I retorted with a laugh, "You were really laying it on thick."
"Uh-huh," he said, shaking his head, smiling. Renee came over and stood on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. I hoped that they wouldn't break up before production ended, especially since I had to kiss Drew more than once throughout the year. It seemed I got my wish, thankfully. There were only a few more scenes to do, and then we'd be done for the season.
"Well, I'm heading out for a drink with some of the make-up crew," Linus announced, taking his coat off the hook on the wall. I gestured to my front and the red streak of fake blood that still crossed my jaw.
"Can't quite go out into public looking like I was murdered," I say, "And Drew looks like he was beaten up by a mob."
Linus shrugged.
"Suit yourself. Bossman?"
"Yeah, alright, I'll come," our director said. He acted stoic, but I could tell he liked spending time with us, "I'll head over as soon as I make sure everything is in order around here."
Linus gave a thumbs-up as he was walking out the door. I started towards my changing room so I could prepare to head home for the night. We spent all day filming, and I was wiped.
"Maristella, a word," our director said as I put a hand on the doorknob. Butterflies curled in my stomach. He stopped close by me and allowed himself a rare smile as he said, "You did excellent today. It would have been a whole lot harder to film for 9 hours straight if you didn't keep the team from clawing out each other's throats."
I smiled, inwardly glowing.
"All in a day's work, I suppose. That's my job. Live, fall in fake love, and keep everyone alive before their death scenes."
He chuckled.
"And, at least for today, die with intensity," he added, and I laughed as well. My eyes locked on his lips for a moment, and for a moment, I had that old aching feeling again. I wish my director had been Drew.
"Mary," he said gently, noticing the expression on my face. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.
"I'm cutting you off," I responded, stepping inside and closing the door behind me, "Cut. Now, go on. Shoo."
He lingered for a moment, seeming like he was going to say something, but then he left.
The season would be over soon.
Fight for Fire
What I Would Give
A Glimpse into the Mind of a High Schooler
That Song Burns
No Better Time for the Holidays
Drop of The Sea
The Uglies