Page 93 of Camera Stays On

“I don’t know. But we can stay here a little and rest. I’d like to get you showered so we can clean your thigh and check how it’s healing.” At some point we would have to go back up for food and check and see if there was anyone left. But for now, she could rest. No doubt the moment we went back up, Sawyer would be waiting with that gun pointing at the door, and I didn’t need that stress right now. I needed one fucking moment to breathe and assess the situation.

“How long are we staying down here?”

“At least overnight.” I eyed the door warily.

I wouldn’t admit it to Andi, but I was scared. The way Sawyer spoke, this had been planned out for a long time. Just the thought that I’d been living with him, my room feet from his, for all this time while he crafted a plan of murder, revenge, and—in his mind—the best movie of all time, was a bit unnerving.

“I’m exhausted.” Andi sighed, returning me to the present. I went to the mattress, taking my knife and cutting open the plastic. Lifting it off the ground, I slid it onto the bed frame and started toward the bedding. Andi helped me put the purple sheets on and make the bed.

“Lie down,” I said once the bed was made.

“I’m filthy. I don’t want to get the bed dirty.” Pushing the sleeves of my jacket up to her elbows, she raised the skirt of her dress, showing off the dirt ring around the bottom and the blood splatter all over the formerly white dress.

“Well, there is a solution to that.” I raised my eyebrows suggestively, and she rolled her eyes.

“Do you really think this is the best time?” She removed my jacket, then turned so I could unzip her.

“I’ll take any time with you,” I admitted, chuckling as I slid the dress down her curves, being careful of her thigh while admiring the ink hidden under the fabric. She had a full backpiece that peeked out when she had the dress on, but now, at her ankles, I could admire it in full. A black snake slithering through a bouquet of light blue and deep purple flowers. Right down the middle of her spine was a kitchen knife, and starting at her shoulder blade, a rosary. And finally, at the very bottom, near the dip in her back, was a death’s-head moth.

“Do you like it?” she asked, turning to reveal herself. She hadn’t been wearing a bra, apparently. My cock hardened at the sight of her beautiful breasts on full display. Even at the risk of getting murdered, I wanted to fuck her.

“What?” I blinked, trying to recall what she’d asked.

“My tattoo. Do you like it? I traded it for a writing critique on this guy’s script. I know I never finished my degree, but I still like to think I know a thing or two.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up like that. I’ve got a piece of paper that says I finished school, but I sure as hell don’t use it. Especially not after this.” I pointed to the ceiling. The mood soured as we both remembered just why we were here. I helped her out of her dress fully, and we went to the bathroom, where I peeled away the bandage around her thigh.

She winced as the gash was exposed to the air. I took a washcloth and ran it under warm water, then put it to her thigh.

“How’s it look, doc?” she asked, trying to smile through her tears.

“Not bad. You’ll scar, but you’re not pouring blood anymore. I don’t have anything to seal the wound, so pressure will have to do for now.” I frowned, waving my hand to dry the area before dressing it again. Thankfully, they had bandage wraps in the medicine cabinet down here.

“What would you even use?”

“Stapler, super glue, fishing line, I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I have all of those things back at the house, but there isn’t really shit here.”

“Well, I’m glad the stapler isn’t here.”

We shared a chuckle, and for one brief moment in all of this, I wasn’t thinking about dying. About being locked in this fucking house. About how wrong it was to be exploring these feelings between us. If people were watching, they’d see two people with obvious chemistry having a moment.

If only it were that simple.

After wrapping her thigh in fresh bandages, we returned to the bedroom. I lifted the comforter, inviting her to lie down. She snuggled in, and she turned to stare at me.

“Are you going to rest with me?”

It felt risky to do so. While I was confident he didn’t have a key, that lingering fear kept me from moving. I doubted I’d get much sleep, but I needed to try. There was a lamp on the nightstand, and I turned it on before going back to the door to flick the overhead light off. Then, finally, I undressed and joined her in bed.

Naked, our bodies intertwined naturally, almost as if we’d been at this for years and not just a handful of times. How many times had we actually cuddled in bed? Once, at the hotel—kind of, and then again the night Lux died. And yet, this felt so right. I shifted, ever conscious of her injury. She turned her head.

“Do you think Bea is alive? That she made it out?”

I considered her question. “Well, she was heavily injured, but she seemed to know more than the rest of us.”

“She told me about the cameras everywhere. They’re in the woods too.”

“Then, maybe. I guess we can only hope she found a way out, and that she’ll call for help.”