Just One More Girl

“Think she’ll come to soon?”

“Yea. There’s no way she survived that.”

The ache in my head throbs like a drumbeat, pulling me deeper into the haze of sleep. I just want to escape this pain, but the voices tug at me.

“See that? Her lids fluttered.”

I manage to crack an eye, but the shapes in front of me are blurry, unrecognizable, like I'm caught in the same storm that kept me here.

“What?” I rasp, my throat feels like I swallowed broken glass. The words barely come out, but I need to know—need to get the hell out of here.

I push through the pain, fighting the wave of nausea that comes with the effort to sit up. My head spins violently, and I crash back onto the dense cushion. 

“You’re gonna want to take it slow. The transition can be rough.”

“Not as rough as dying,” a voice cuts in. A loud slap follows.

“Ouch.” 

I try to roll, to look around, but my body feels like lead. My eyelids are made of sandpaper as I blink, trying to clear the blurry world. The air smells like damp concrete–old beer mixing with the stale, musty air. I squint and two women come into focus.

A brunette, with messy hair and wild green eyes, waves a hand. 

“Where?” I croak, the burning in my chest like fire.

“Jim's basement,” the blonde girl says, as she kneels beside me, her long, straight hair falling over her face. “I’m Cora. This is Mallory.” Her hands are warm as she guides me up. 

The change in position nearly makes me lose my balance. My legs feel like jelly, unable to hold my weight. I look down at my feet to see blood covering my legs. 

Mallory, hovers next to me. “Let’s go upstairs. We’ll clean you up.” She grabs my arm, helping me stay sturdy on my feet.

We reach the kitchen. It’s warm, and the low hum of the fridge is the only sound. Mallory hands me a glass of water, the cool liquid soothing my burning throat. I gulp it down, desperate, as if it can wash away the nausea, the confusion.

I set the glass down and feel Cora’s gaze on me. 

“Can I tell her yet?” Cora’s voice is eager.

Mallory sighs, but nods. 

Cora’s lips curl. “You’re dead.” Her eyes flicker, but the words land in my chest like a punch—unable to breathe.

Mallory’s palm meets Cora’s arm with a sharp smack. “Could you have some tact?” she snaps.

I try to speak, “I’m not—”

“You are,” Mallory interrupts, her voice soft, and she reaches a hand to me. “Jim…” her brows furrow. “Were you on a date?” 

I nod slowly, but it feels like my thoughts are still wrapped in cotton, unsure of the reality around me. “I think so. It’s hard to remember.”

Mallory bites her lip, looking at Cora, then back at me, her eyes filled with sorrow. “Welcome to the club.”

A cold sensation crawls up my spine, a sinking feeling that drags me under. I shake my head. “Jim wouldn’t.” My mind pulling on anything it can grasp to remember—how he stood in the bar, his crisp business suit catching the light, his warm smile like I was the world to him. How I let him pull me into his orbit, the attraction overwhelming. 

Cora’s eyes narrow, and she leans closer. “He totally did,” she says in a matter of fact way. “Stupid chin dimple.” 

I can’t focus on what she’s saying. I can’t think of anything except that sinking feeling in my chest. Jim. That charming man who made me feel seen, wanted... but now, it feels like something’s been stolen from me.

Mallory’s eyes soften. “Maybe with three?” She looks to Cora. 

My hands shake as I pinch my skin. The sharp jabs do nothing to wake me from this nightmare. 

Cora watches me, unblinking. “Wanna help us stop him?”

I blink rapidly, trying to clear my mind, but the thoughts keep spinning. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

“I’m not dead. I can’t be.” I push away from the table and manage to get my legs moving fast enough for me to collapse in the foyer. I reach out for the railing to steady myself, but instead, my hand brushes against the Christmas tree, its dry needles scraping my fingers like sandpaper.

I stop, staring at the thing. It was supposed to be charming—he wanted to impress me, make me think he was the perfect catch. But now, the lights flicker on the dead tree. 

A car door slams and fear swirls in my body. Mallory pulls me and we run into the living room. 

“He’s here. What do we do?” I say, through ragged breaths. 

“He can’t hurt us now, but we can stop him from hurting others,” Mallory says. 

My body shakes as Cora touches my shoulder. “How?” I ask. 

“We burn it down,” Mallory’s eyes go dark. 

The front door opens and slams shut. With every step of his Gucci boots, my heart thuds in my chest. 

Cora leans in to whisper, “With two the tree only wobbles under our touch.”

It’s then that I realise they have been waiting for one more, just one more girl so they could take him down. 

We run back to the foyer and reach for the tree, it teeters, but with one last shove, it topples. 

My heart skips as I hear the snap of brittle branches and the electric lights spark. A crackling sound fills the room, and before I can process what’s happening, the lights flash bright, and the dry needles catch flame.

Angry cracking pops, as the fire races up the wall paper, leaving thick billowy smoke in its wake. 

“Shit that was fast,” I say. 

Tears well in Cora’s eyes. “I’ve been waiting years to burn this place down.” She swallows and then smiles. “Just one more girl.”