Dead of Summer

by A.J. Merlin

“Like I was saying about absentee-Kevin, we got a replacement. A replacement who, I think, makes a viable new target for your summer love quest.” “You mean candidate, right?” “Sure,” Kinsley shrugs. “Feels kind of casual when you say that instead of target. Like you’re not really in it to win it, you know? But you call him whatever you want.”

The day I meet my forever-person at a kid’s summer camp is the day I check myself into the psych ward, or figure out how I ended up in a shitty Hallmark rom-com.

“Oh, my god.” The words come out as a whisper as all the warmth drains out of me, into the ground below. “Not quite,” Kayde responds, still with that half-apologetic smile. “And if you’re really good for me, sweetheart, I won’t make you meet him tonight.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I never intended to kill you.” His smile is sheepish when he says it, shoulders hunching like I’ve caught him doing something oh-so-sweet. “I’d thought, maybe afterward, as long as I could keep you in the dark, that you and I could be the only survivors. Thought maybe…” His other hand comes up so his knuckles can trail along the edge of the ax as I watch. “You know what trauma bonding is, right? It wouldn’t be my trauma, but I figured I could pretend for you after everything. When you were all alone and scared and waiting for the cops with me.”

“Just don’t hide from me,” he chuckles as he says it, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world and the easiest thing ever. “Not hard, Summer. Just”—he reaches out, fingers wrapping lightly around my throat for only a moment before falling to his side—“don’t ever hide from me. Understand?”

“I thought you didn’t like him!” I don’t. I think. No, I know I don’t like Kayde. Realistically, I can’t like him. It’d be the same as liking the robber breaking into my house, or the murderer bearing down on me with a knife. But when I try to summon the feelings of hatred and disgust, the ones I’d felt at least in the beginning, I find that particular well empty.

“What are you doing? Why are you volunteering?” “Because I’m scared she’s going to saw someone in half. Only, it won’t be a magic trick,” I hiss, refusing to underestimate Melody or her ability to do something insane. Do I think she’s managed to find and obtain a saw somewhere on the grounds of Camp Crestview? Absolutely not. No way in hell. Do I think if she wanted to, she and the other girls of my cabin could make a saw out of like a rubber band, a leaf, and a crushing desire for bloodlust? Abso-fucking-lutely.

The hatred is unfurling, petal by petal, though I clamp a metaphorical hand over the core of it to keep some of that hatred intact. I’m glad to see him. I’m horrified to see him. I’m confused as fuck to see him.

“What if we go to separate places in the afterlife?” I ask, scoffing a low laugh. “Last I checked, heaven isn’t for murderers.” “Then I’ll just have to drag you down to hell with me.”

“I’ll be your monster, if you want. Your psychopath, your ax murderer. I’ll be anything you want me to be, as long as you can be one thing for me.” “That sounds like a loaded proposal,” I can’t help but quip back in his direction, though I definitely don’t regret it when he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of my shoulder with a growl. “What do I have to be for you, Kayde?” My hands come up to stroke his forearm, and he holds me tighter in response. “Easy,” Kayde tells me, and I feel the smile against my shoulder. “I just need you to be mine, Summer. All mine, no matter what. Think you can do that for me?”

*throws feminism directly into the campfire*