Page 71 of Girl, Deceived

The door creaked open, slowly revealing a silhouette framed by the dim hallway lighting. Aurora's heart leapt as she recognized the familiar shape, the dirty leather, the uneven eyeholes, the contorted grin, the pointed chin.

It was the director – but the fictional one.

She stood before the film’s antagonist, the character she was fated to die alongside. Hideous mask, brown apron, both soiled with fake blood. A startled gasp escaped her lips, her fingers involuntarily gripping the edges of the dressing table. The figure stepped closer, remaining silent, the void-like eyes of the mask staring at her.

Aurora’s heart rate was skyrocketing, her palms sweaty, and her breathing shallow. But she tried to find her voice.

‘You... you must be the actor they've hired to play the Director? Harry must have thought it'd be a good scare to have you come in like this.’

The figure didn't reply, just cocked its head to the side, analyzing her with an eerie stillness.

Slowly, almost theatrically, it raised its hand, revealing a butcher knife, its blade gleaming in the soft light. Certainly the most realistic prop she’d ever laid eyes on.

Aurora tried to muster a nervous laugh, desperately hoping to dispel the tension.

‘That's a good prop. Very authentic. So, we're rehearsing the finale tonight, huh?’

The masked figure took another deliberate step forward, the knife now more prominent in its grip. Her confidence began to crumble as she realized there was something distinctly off about the whole situation. If this was method acting, she wasn’t into it.

‘Look, if this is some sort of initiation or prank, it's really not funny. Harry, if you're out there watching this, call it off!’

The masked man edged closer, his feet shuffling, his dirty butcher’s apron swaying with every step.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Aurora was alone on an isolated sound stage, confronted by someone who may or may not be an actor, wielding what could potentially be a real weapon.

‘Harry,’ Aurora shouted, ‘if you don’t quit this, I’m out. Screw your film.’

The Director shuffled closer still, now close enough to touch. Aurora retreated against her dresser, adrenaline pumping loudly in her ears. She knew Harry was eccentric, but even he wouldn’t go this far.

Then, a surge of panic came in a crashing wave. The Director surged at her blade-first. Aurora’s fight or flight response kicked in, propelling her out of the character’s path to safety. But before she could completely evade his advance, Aurora felt cold steel graze her arm.

A sharp pain erupted, followed by the warm sensation of blood washing over her flesh. She glanced down, seeing the angry red gash contrasting sharply against the faux blood stains on her costume.

Desperation clawed at her insides, and her mind raced.

This was no act.

This was something else entirely.

A ruse, a trap.

Aurora was not on a set rehearsing for the movie's climax. She was in a real-life horror scenario, facing an actual threat.

Aurora lunged for a glass bottle from her makeup station, smashing it against the table to create a sharp-edged weapon.

‘Stay back!’ she warned, then at a moment of opportunity, Aurora spun and bolted to her left, heading for the door.

Tonight, Aurora Davis would truly find out if she had what it took to be the final girl.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

'It has to be here,' Ella shouted from the driver's seat. Ripley sat in the passenger seat, shouting directions from her online app. 'It has to end at the film set.'

Harry Faulkner had talked a lot but said very little, but amongst the posturing and the showboating had been a few nuggets of useful information.

‘I’m with you, Dark. I know a poser when I see one. Our unsub has balls – Harry Faulkner doesn’t.’

‘Right? And based on everything I’ve heard so far, the finalehasto take place at Harry’s film set. It’s a perfect fit.’

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