Page 81 of All Your Firsts

“Excellent. Kill the friend. I only want my daughter.”

I place my hand over my mouth and shake my head as I hear my father’s orders. This can’t be happening.

One of the men in the front lets out a shrill scream seconds before the van veers sharply to the right. In the midst of the chaos, the piercing sound of two loud pops reverberates through the air, reminiscent of a gunshot, right before the screeching of the van’s tires. My body is catapulted into the air, then it all goes black.

As I come to, a persistent ringing in my ears overwhelms my senses while my eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness of the starless night. I place my arm at my side to hoist myself up and instantly regret it when I feel like I’m on a motion ride. I fall back onto the dirt and wild grass under me with a thud.

What in the hell happened?

I angle my aching neck to the right and see Jess lying a couple of feet from me. Shit.

Rolling to my side with a sense of unease, I crawl toward Jess’s limp body. I place my index and middle finger under her jaw and feel the thump, thump of her heartbeat. Thank God she’s still alive.

I move to a kneeling position and cast my gaze in every direction. We’re on an isolated road, surrounded by darkness, with no streetlights, cars, or buildings in sight. The perfect place to do unspeakable things to someone.

The van is tipped over on its side, with one of the back doors swung wide open. Did I crawl out? And what about Jess? How the hell did we end up over here?

As a faint noise reaches my ears, I immediately hit the ground with my stomach pressed into the earth. I focus on regulating my breathing and tightly close my eyes. When I don’t hear any steps advancing my way, I slowly open my slitted eyelids.

Standing by the van, a slender black figure who is neither of the two men from before gazes across the vast landscape before walking to the front of the van. The sound of glass shattering reaches my ears, followed by the distinct noise of something being dragged.

I hear a huff as the figure drops something hard to the ground. I squint as I try to make out the pile, only to realize it’s one of the men who took us. The figure retreats to the front of the van again before dropping what I can only assume is the other man next to the first. The figure rips something with a grunt, and then a light comes on as they hold a phone over their bodies.

The light from the phone creates enough visibility that I can finally see the face attached to the figure. My breath catches in my throat, causing them to turn their gaze toward me. Their face is hidden behind a white mask except for eye holes resembling a river of black tears and lips painted crimson red.

The masked person looks back down at the men before flipping them both over with an ease I find terrifying and taking a few photos of their faces.

Are the photos a trophy for the kills? Alexa and I went through a phase when we watched only murder documentaries for months. This would be considered a trophy or something, right? Or maybe they were on a hit list, and tonight was their unfortunate night?

They walk down the road without a backward glance, and I start to believe they won’t be coming back until I see headlights coming at an alarming speed back toward us.

I scramble to my hands and knees, and shake Jess.

“Jess, please. Wake up. We have to leave,” I beg, but she remains unconscious.

The car skids to a stop a few feet from us, and the masked person jumps out. In the offset light from the headlights, I watch them grab one of the men and pull him toward the car. When they get to the second one, they drag him by his arms and let his head rub against the dirt and rocks. As the light hits the back of his neck, I glimpse a tattoo. A circle with a slash through it. Odd. I’ve never seen something like that before.

The masked person reappears and gazes over at me before advancing in my direction, which makes me squeal and try to cover Jess’s still sleeping form.

They get two feet from me and put up both of their hands in a calming gesture, and that’s when I realize the person has long nails poking through the end of black gloves.

It’s—it’s a woman?

She looks over both of us with a hand on her hip.

“Thank you,” I murmur. I don’t know why she did what she did. I’m grateful, but still slightly terrified she might kill us next.

She just flops her hand at me as if it was no big deal before placing her finger over her mouth in a shushing gesture and walking to the driver’s side of her car.

All I can see from her back is blond-looking hair in a tight bun. And as I squint, I see the same tattoo on the back of her neck as the guy.

My eyes widen in shock. Did she just kill someone she knows?

The car’s headlights gradually fade away as she accelerates and swings the car around. The silence is shattered by another vehicle’s engine growing louder and closer with each passing second. I look back toward the other car and let out a sigh of relief when I see Vic’s truck speeding toward us, its engine roaring. I turn my gaze back to the other car, but it has vanished without a trace. Like it never happened.

“Fuck! Rosie, baby, are you okay?” Vic says as he and Axl make it to us.

Axl drops to Jess’s level. “Jess. Wake up. Please wake up,” he says while moving the hair out of her face with a gentleness I never thought he had.

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