Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
“No, I was too busy paying attention to the psycho with the axe.” He speaks a little too loudly, because a lady three rows ahead angrily shushes us.
It doesn’t matter, because the credits start to scroll a minute later. Lights brighten the dark crowded theater and the many occupied velvet seats. This wasn’t some obscure horror flick. It was a sold-out showing of a summer blockbuster.
The abrupt ending has Rocky glowering at the movie screen. “That’s it?”
“She survived,” I tell him and brush off crumbs from my lap. Ugh, why does popcorn have to be so messy? I peer back at the credits. “What more is there?”
“How about, what is she going to do now that all her friends are dead, her house was set on fire, and she’s wanted for three different murders that she didn’t even commit?” He pushes at his black hair, some strands hanging disobediently in his face.
“Valid points, but normally horror movies end when the main characters survive. They don’t unpack the trauma of surviving.” That endnote hangs heavy in the air, and I watch Rocky work his jaw into a tighter scowl.
Okay, so this movie might’ve been a bad idea, but I didn’t know Rocky would draw comparisons to himself. But maybe I should have known. I am the horror movie buff. And technically, Rocky is the “final boy” of his own childhood.
The true sole survivor of his entire familial line.
It doesn’t help that the president of the Historical Society organized a Float on the River event for this weekend. Where the lovely citizens of Victoria, us included, can tie off colorful inner tubes and sunbathe over the bodies of Rocky’s deceased family. Unknowingly since the Wolfe family deaths are largely buried and forgotten, but still.
It also doesn’t help that Varrick got the event canceled earlier today. Rocky’s skepticism is at an all-time high with that act of kindness, considering Varrick is the fucking reason his family is dead in the first place. So if this was his attempt at currying favor with Rocky, it didn’t work.
He’s never been more on edge.
Which puts me more on edge.
Eerie music floods the movie theater, and Rocky and I aren’t rushing to exit. We stay seated in the very back row while people rise with their candy wrappers and emptied popcorn buckets to leave.
I don’t invoke Varrick’s name in this hallowed space. It’s like calling upon a hell demon. All it does is draw more and more rage out of Rocky’s eye sockets, and right now his irritation hasn’t even simmered down.
He squeezes the fountain soda, his gaze cemented on the scrolling credits like every single name has personally affronted him.
“This movie is bullshit,” he tells me. “How is this a happy ending at all?”
“She’s alive. That was the goal.”
He cocks his head in thought, then nods once. “Alive but fucked-up.”
“She was already a little fucked-up before the murder. And the fire.”
He stuffs the soda in the cupholder. “But at least give me a fucking ending. That was the middle.” He swings his head toward me. “And I know you love this genre, Phebs, but it’s depressing as shit.”
“It’s hopeful,” I counter. “Someone always survives…” I pause. Wait, that’s wrong. “Unless you’re Cabin in the Woods, Cloverfield, Final Destination 5…” I scrunch my face. “Okay, maybe it’s not a hard-and-fast rule.”
He raises his brows at me. “And here I was about to say I’d watch all the depressing-as-shit movies with you as long as you don’t spoil them.”
I suck in a breath. I did spoil those, didn’t I? “Oops?”
“Don’t act so sad about it.”
I am grinning. “You still watched The Ring with me after I spoiled that one when I was fifteen, and in my defense, who hasn’t seen The Ring?”
“Someone who wants peaceful dreams.”
I throw a kernel at his face. He catches it in his mouth, and his accompanying satisfied smile is to both my delight and my misery.
I make an annoyed humph sound because I was not trying to feed him.
Rocky relaxes back in his seat, and we overhear some older ladies gabbing mindlessly as they exit. “They’re already saying it’s going to a Thornhall. Either the boy or the girl.”
They must not notice the boy Thornhall is in the movie theater beside me. “There’s still so much summer left,” her friend says. “Varrick couldn’t have already chosen.”
“The de la Vegas wouldn’t print it in the Weekly if it weren’t true. It didn’t even say allegedly. The Wolfe inheritance is going to a Thornhall.”
“Most likely going to a Thornhall,” her friend clarifies. “I still think it’ll end up with a Koning.”
That’s promising. Another win for us after planting rumors in the local paper. We turn back to each other, but in our peripheral, we both spot the teenage girls who work at Seaside Griddle side-eyeing us. They cover their mouths to whisper-giggle too loudly, “Oh my God, it’s Grey and Phoebe.”