Page 76 of Girl, Deceived

The killer eased, perhaps suffering a moment of contemplation. Ella had lied – Harry Faulkner was far from innocent and she wasn’t sure if Michael or Jason were dead – but penetrating her attacker’s mind was a step closer to breaking his body.

And then her moment came.

With every ounce of strength she had left, Ella lunged upwards, zeroing in on the edges of his mask. She burrowed her nails into the latex and began ripping, shredding it like paper, exposing the monster below the surface. She began stripping away his alter ego, kicking him out of his fantasy world, exposing his identity.

The man’s hands shot to his face with a scream as he tried to pull his mask lower and conceal his features. Ella glimpsed a mouth, a stubbly chin, two flared nostrils. The horror he had crafted was built on anonymity, on the power and dread of the unknown. Now that he was unmasked, some of that power seemed to wane. Ella, despite her pain and exhaustion, felt a surge of hope. Without the mask, he was just a man – twisted, yes, but mortal.

Seizing the momentary advantage, Ella thrust her knee into his abdomen, causing him to double over. He clutched his chest, and then Ella swiped the knife out of his hands and threw it in the distance. She heard it clink somewhere.

Now it was a fair fight.

The killer toppled off her, crawling through broken glass, heading towards the display at the center of the room. She’d felled the beast, and now she just had to deliver the final blow.

She strode in his direction, pinpointing the weak spots she could focus on. But then the half-masked killer, the fictional-turned-real character, bolted to his feet with renewed determination.

He might only have had half a face, but more concerning was the pistol clutched to his chest.

Gaping wound in her arm, glass lodged in her spine, and now five bullets pointed in her direction. The same bullets Ella had loaded five minutes before.

She’d fought her way out of a deadly struggle, unmasked the monster, only for the tables to turn.

Ella scanned her surroundings, searching for anything that could break out of the situation. The shattered glass, broken props and debris all provided options, but she couldn't grab them without the killer shooting.

She had to stall.

‘Guess you’re not the talking type, huh?’ she said.

The corners of his mouth twitched, words forming but retreating. He was desperate to remain in character, to be whatever this villain’s name was.

‘Come on, Krueger, what’s the matter? You wanted a final girl, you got one. You gonna talk to me or not?’

The man slowly shook his head then outstretched Ella's pistol. She took a step back, but the killer advanced, pistol trained on her chest. Even if she tried her luck and darted in one direction or the other, she doubted she could outrun a bullet. Not to mention, he had five opportunities to smoke her.

‘Shoot me then, you coward, but I promise you won’t get out of here alive.’

Ella glanced to one side and saw Norman Bates staring at her again. She guessed if she died now, it was just another unfinished project of hers.

The killer cocked Ella’s pistol. She raised her hands. If nothing else, the blasts might alert Ripley to their location.

‘Go on. Empty the whole chamber in me. I dare you.’

A parting gift for Ripley. If he used all the bullets, Ripley would have an easier time taking him in. If her last final act was a selfless one, maybe God would go easy on her once she reached the gates.

Another step closer. A smirk on his lips.

‘You of all people should know… sometimes, dead is better.’

The killer's mask twitched slightly, as if her words had struck a nerve, but she knew he was far beyond reasoning with.

She saw his finger caress the trigger. Ella shut her eyes and recalled treasured memories: her Dad, Ben, and her old dog, Smudge. They said that your life flashed before your eyes in your last moments, but Ella had been close to death enough times to know that wasn't true.

Then a deafening gunblast, echoing around the vast film set. Ella braced herself for the impact, but a second passed and it never came.

Another blast.

A piercing, shrill scream.

Ella awoke to a different world. A new, unexpected scene that had manifested from nowhere, as though the projectionist had loaded a new film reel while she’d been lost in her memories.

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