Chapter Text
Amber’s version of “getting cleaned up” had involved soaking the wad of napkins in her glove box with a half-empty bottle of water and wiping themselves down.
It was comical, really, standing there in the middle of the woods after everything, getting her face scrubbed like she was a kid who’d gotten too excited eating some ice cream, watching the rough tissues become redder and redder with every swipe against her cheeks. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to her. She’d been too preoccupied with the blood she could see, the thought that she’d been sitting there the whole time looking like Patrick Bateman had been the last thing on her mind. Amber had looked disappointed, like she didn’t want to be removing the evidence of Tara’s crime, like it was some kind of disservice to her.
“Y’know,” she’d said, pouting slightly in thought, “you look pretty good covered in blood.”
Tara was long past the point of being shocked by the things that were coming out of Amber’s mouth. Her nerves were fried beyond any sort of useful input, her exhaustion finally seeming to hit her square upside the head and making any other feeling--shock or confusion or otherwise--become a nagging buzz at the base of her skull. It was all something she would deal with tomorrow. The adrenaline, the body, the blood, whatever fucking bullshit Amber had planned with that Richie guy, whatever other weirdly intimate statements Amber wanted to make about her; it could all just evaporate into smoke as far as she cared.
She needed to sleep.
She needed to go home.
The landscape travels past her window and it all feels fake, like if she looked just a little more to the sides she’d see someone turning a crank making the trees whizz by, a director sitting bored in their chair until the next big scene approached. Her life felt like a fiction. Like a movie. At least then, everything might all make sense. At least then, there would be something cohesive for her to understand, some plot beats she could predict and prepare for.
As if to mock her further, they hit a bump in the road and Tara knocks her head into the window, not having realised she’d been drifting off until the jolt makes her sit back up in her seat.
There’s a smear where she’d collided with it, another unfortunate reminder of how badly she wants a shower. She can’t tell which is more enticing; crawling straight into bed and letting the bone-deep weight of her fatigue pull her straight into the mattress, or turning the water up so hot it makes her bathroom look like a sauna, scrubbing away the remaining dirt and blood and what feels like an inch layer of grease coating her skin until she’s raw and tingling.
“You okay?”
Amber’s voice is weirdly hesitant.
Tara turns to her, slowly and deliberately, body jostling loosely with every rumble of the car, and stares.
Amber is looking between her and the road, eyebrows puckered in genuine concern and she has to wonder if the question was directed at her overall mental state, or simply the bump to her head. Either way, she keeps her mouth shut. It feels kind of irrelevant.
Hands loose on the wheel, Amber presses her lips together and toggles her gaze a few more times--Tara, road, Tara, road--before seeming to take the silence as an answer for her question. She sighs, short and sharp out of her nose. “It’s gonna be okay. Like, seriously, they aren’t gonna find that guy for weeks.”
Tara closes her eyes and thuds her head back on the seat.
Even now, Amber seemed to be under the impression that Tara’s silence was everything to do with her concern for being caught and she wishes with all her heart and soul it was that simple.
Because where the guilt should be, where the dread and horror at what she’d done should be festering within her body, is nothing but an empty cavern. A big, black void of nothing--well… not nothing. Something. Something within her that had never before seen the light of day, something she hadn’t even known was there, something that was only now beginning to open its eyes and stretch its limbs and stalk around like a caged animal. Waiting.
Something that was awake, finally.
And if she put words to these thoughts it would make it real, and she didn’t want to make it real. She wanted to go back to who she was before tonight, back to her boring fucking life where nothing happened and she could live out the rest of her senior year and move the fuck out of Woodsboro and never look back, like everyone else in her life had done before her.
Everyone except Amber, who had seen this thing within her and instead of balking or running away was looking at her now with such concern that it made her want to cry.
She thinks back to Luke, to the feral, feverish shine in Amber’s eyes as she’d beaten him, the animalistic fury she’d fallen into so easily to protect Tara, and she wonders if maybe, possibly, there was recognition there.
Maybe there was something familiar in Amber, in her, in them both, that had reached up through their respective innards, through their respective bouts of rage, and seen each other as they truly were. Something that Amber seemed to have embraced wholeheartedly, in herself and Tara, while she was still playing catch-up.
She didn’t want to be playing catch-up. Not again. She’d been lagging behind Amber like a shadow, constantly trying to reach her but never quite being able to wrap her fingers around anything substantial. The past week had been a godsend, she’d felt herself gaining on this elusive unknown between them, closing the gap, mending the fractures, but even now she felt something was missing.
One last thing.
Was this what it was?
Is this what she had to do?
This thing in her stomach, pacing away, some bloodthirsty yearning unbeknownst to her until now, finally finding its kin, and all she had to do was let it free.
She wanted to.
Her fingers still tingled.
Amber had been so excited at the mere prospect of them doing this together, and she wanted to, whatever the hell it meant. But she fucking couldn’t. It was too much. Too, too much.
So she sits in the car, and listens to the radio, and watches the trees outside give way to fields and road and, eventually, buildings, and it all feels surreal enough to convince her she’s about to wake up from some heat-induced nightmare brought about by falling asleep under a mound of blankets on Amber’s couch, the lingering memories of Stab 8 making her imagine blood and guts and impossible scenarios.
They make the turn onto Main Street in silence, the soothing voice of a late night radio host doing nothing but filling the car with white noise. Amber had been suspiciously quiet next to her, but Tara can feel the anxious waves coming off her and hear the constant readjustment of her hands on the wheel. Considering how calm she’d been about the dead body, Tara doubted the sudden nervousness had anything to do with it.
She tilts her head, neck creaking and eyes heavy, to look at Amber only to find her looking right back. There’s a tightness to her smile that makes Tara’s stomach drop despite everything.
“Y’know, it really… you really…” Amber starts, stilted and awkward, looking like she’s trying to find the right words that won’t make Tara bolt from her car despite the fact they’re still moving. “...you really looked like you were having… fun. And I’m not gonna judge you if you were, T, seriously, I don’t- it-- ugh, fuck, okay. I’m not gonna tell anyone, okay? If that’s what you’re worried about.”
Tara blinks, eyebrows furrowing, feeling the first wisps of emotion come back to her. Confusion. Familiar, at least.
“Amber…” she says, voice crispy with exhaustion and disuse, her name sounding like a statement all on its own. Is that what Amber thought? Did she think Tara was worried about loyalty in this situation? They’d just buried a fucking body together, loyalty was a given at this point.
Amber, sensing an in, cuts off whatever else she’d been planning to say, suddenly eager to keep the ball rolling. “I’d never do that to you. I’m not a snitch.”
“Amber--” she tries again, wanting to nip this thing in the bud.
But if she did that, she’d have to explain what the real problem was. She’d have to explain the gnawing ache she felt that apparently craved violence as much as she enjoyed watching it. But, as it turns out, Amber was determined to say her piece regardless of how many times Tara tried to stop her.
“It’s okay to like that stuff, the… the messy stuff. It’s okay. I get it,” Amber says, imploring, taking her eyes off the road one last time to hit Tara with a look that makes the breath in her forever constricting lungs stall. “I get it.”
Tara stares at her, hearing what she’s saying beyond the words. She gets it. She gets it. They get it.
And is it so hard to believe? That Amber does understand? Certainly not after tonight, certainly not after this week alone, where she’d seen Amber tread the line between calm and enraged like she was used to flipping the switch. Another magic trick. She’d broken a boy’s arm for her. Was it such a bad thing?
Tara’s mouth twitches open, closed, open, wanting to find words or assurances. She can tell Amber’s trying to convince her of something, and in all honesty, she doesn’t think it would take much more to do just that.
Amber looks back to the road but Tara continues staring, feeling her resolve crumble by the second and the bone-deep craving for connection makes her dizzy.
Amber gets it.
So… maybe… it’ll be okay.
Tara wets her lips, “I--”
Amber doesn’t have time to react beyond turning her head, and Tara’s voice stalls in her throat the second the word comes out, because her heart drops firmly into her stomach at the sound of a police siren shrieking through the air like a clap of thunder.
They both freeze then, deer in the red-and-blue headlights, the single ‘whoop’ somehow having the effect of sucking all the air out of the car’s interior like they’d just been shot into space.
“...shit.”
Amber’s curse barely meets her ears and Tara struggles to look over her shoulder at the squad car now tailing them.
How… how did they fucking know?
Was there blood sprayed all up the side of the car? Had the trunk somehow busted open and the bloodied spade and torch, now wrapped up tightly in a plastic bag Amber had pulled from some crevice, were now on full display for anyone to see? Had someone seen them? Was there already an APB out for Amber’s car?
Her stomach swoops and her heart stalls and, somehow, there is still no guilt.
“Relax,” Amber says, voice steady and low, reminding Tara of the not-too-distant past where she’d said the exact same thing when that man had started tailing them.
They pull over slowly, the cop car’s lights a silent but imminent threat that bathes them both in a revolving hue of red and blue, red and blue, until that stops too and there’s nothing but silence and the muffled thump of a car door opening.
“Hey. Hey.”
Tara’s wide eyes turn to Amber’s, the steady tone of her voice feeling out of place for the thrum of her own heart. Amber stares at her, reaching over to grab Tara’s hand, both now visibly clean but the barest of grit remaining, and rubs a soothing circle with her thumb. She grins faintly and winks, and the sight is reassuring enough to settle Tara’s heart. “We’re fine. Watch this.”
And suddenly, everything is fine.
The same rush of adrenaline she’d felt upon first confronting Luke, the same warm thrum of conspiracy between them as they face down another obstacle together, Tara and Amber against the world.
It feels… the same. Exactly the same.
Her heart settles, her stomach stops flipping, and when Amber leans back and clears her throat, it all of a sudden feels like she can breathe a little easier.
Amber rolls down her window as the cop approaches, adjusting in her seat like she’s about to give the performance of a lifetime and it takes everything in her to keep her face neutral at the ridiculousness of it all. Oh, she feels insane. Oh, they are so fucked.
Amber rests one elbow against her open window and, in a voice that sounds completely sincere, says, “Is there a problem, officer?”
The officer in question, now beaming a flash light directly into the car like they were intent on blinding the two of them, pauses.
“Girls?”
Tara blinks at the voice.
Oh, you have got to be joking.
“Jud--? Uh, I mean, Sheriff Hicks?” Tara says, shock being the only thing stopping her from bursting into a fit of manic laughter. This is insane. This… what is this night?
Judy, lowering her flash light, looks between the two of them with her usual wide-eyed stare that doesn’t seem to betray any suspicions she might have. If Amber is shocked by Judy’s appearance, she doesn’t react. Not that Tara can see her face.
“What in the world are you two doing out so late?” Judy says, sounding more like a chiding mother than the town’s sheriff.
Tara’s avoided looking at the clock so far, not wanting to know just how long she’d been awake, and she continues to avoid it now. From the tone of Judy’s voice, it’s about as late as she feels it is, which is to say pretty fucking late.
Neither her or Amber reply for a second too long, which is the only thing that seems to indicate that Amber is as stunned as she is, and the beat of silence that follows Judy’s question is funny enough to make Tara clear her throat in an attempt to hide the near hysterical laughter trying to escape her throat.
Luckily, apparently sensing Tara’s imminent collapse behind her, Amber jumps in loudly and quickly. “Oh! We just went for a ride and got a little distracted. Talking and stuff. We had a movie night.”
For as long as she’d known her, Tara had made note of the two personas that seemed to appear whenever Amber had to speak to someone in authority. One of them was difficult and bratty, usually reserved for substitute teachers and parking enforcement officers, the kind of attitude that screamed “you’re boring, my dad’s a lawyer, I’m going to make your life as difficult as possible and I dare you to stop me.” The second was soft spoken and polite, accommodating and trying oh-so desperately to get away with something. She’d seen both in equal measure, and knew enough to have figured that the first one was a more accurate depiction of how Amber actually felt.
This right here was the second one. Voice light and airy, unassuming. Disarming.
Tara, hand still raised to her mouth after her fake throat clearing, keeps it there to press into her cheeks and hide her mouth and the wobbly grin trying to work its way onto her face.
“Movie night, huh?” Judy says, still not sounding suspicious. Disbelieving, yes, but not suspicious. “Anything good?”
“No.”
“Hell no.”
They answer at the same time, Tara’s voice giving away her amusement and Amber’s emphatic dismissal of their movie choice making her hand creep back up to cover her mouth. She can’t even imagine what her face looks like right now. She wonders if there’s any smeared blood still caked into her hairline.
Judy’s eyebrows creep up at that, somehow looking disappointed for them. “Oh, no. That bad?”
“Ah, y’know”--Amber shrugs, one hand rising from the wheel to make a ‘what can ya do?’ motion--“we’ve been on a Stab binge and finally got to the garbage ones. Was bound to happen eventually.”
At the mention of Stab, Judy’s face crumples slightly. If Tara had a single iota of awareness left, she’d probably feel bad, but as it stood, she was running on very little sleep, a whole lot of adrenaline, and enough conflicting emotions to make her feel close to having a stroke. She forgot, sometimes, that remnants of Woodsboro’s bloody past were close enough to home for some people that they still bore the scars; emotional or otherwise.
Judy never talked about it much, her own experience during the Ghostface killings of 2011, especially not to her son’s friends, but there was always enough of a reaction from her whenever it was brought up for Tara to know it hadn’t been good.
“More of a Disney gal, myself,” Judy says, the gentle grin on her face doing nothing to betray the memories Tara suspected were going through her head. Eyes twitching over to her, Judy’s smile dropped a touch. “Tara, honey, you okay?”
Yep, she definitely didn’t know what her face looked like to warrant such a reaction.
Dropping her sleeve covered hand, Amber’s already large hoodie swallowing her, Tara tries to school her features into something that doesn’t look like she’s losing her mind. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. I-I just keep thinking about this one dumb part in the movie, it--” she coughs and allows a wheeze of a laugh to escape her, like releasing air from a balloon to stop it from exploding. “It just keeps getting me.”
“She’s been laughing her ass off about it all night,” Amber says, shaking her head and looking back at her with a look of faux-exasperation, which is enough to make her laugh again. “Honestly, I think I broke her.”
The sentiment might be more real than Amber realised.
Judy looked between them then, scepticism finally creeping onto her face as she cast her narrowing eyes from Tara’s face to Amber’s and back again. “You girls haven’t been smoking, have you?”
The question, delivered with the kind of seriousness that could only be conjured by complete sincerity, made her blink in confusion at first. Confusion, quickly followed by realisation, quickly followed by another gut-bustingly agonising attempt to keep herself from crying with laughter at the absurdity of everything.
Her reaction doesn’t seem to win her any favours with the sheriff, nor does the beat of silence that proceeds.
“O-Oh,” Amber says, voice strained in a way that implies her own laughter is fighting to be heard. “Oh, no, we’re just really tired. Really tired. Like, we’ve been awake too long, we’re just super giddy.”
“Mmhm,” Judy hums. Either she’s actually buying their story, or it truly does help to have friends in high places. “Whatever’s going on, you shouldn’t be driving if you’re so tired, Miss Freeman.”
Amber nods solemnly, hands back on the wheel and Tara can see them clenching it tightly. “Yeah. Yup. You’re right. We’re heading home right now, Sheriff.”
Judy nods along with her, “Good to hear.”
There’s another few beats of nothing where Amber and Judy both stare at each other like they’re waiting for the other to say something. Tara, feeling her nerves settle into something close to calm, waits for much the same.
“...is there, uh,” Amber starts, amusement still present but giving way to the barest hint of annoyance. “Is there a reason you pulled me over, or…?”
Tara straightens up at that, somehow having forgotten the whole reason for her fried nerves to begin with. Judy smiles tightly at the question, levelling Amber with an expression teeming with parental disappointment. She raises her eyebrows and makes a deliberate motion with her head, nodding towards the rear of the car, and Tara’s blood suddenly feels icy in her veins.
Oh god, there was blood on the trunk. There was blood on the trunk, or the trunk was open, or something. Something was up with the trunk. ‘Trunk’ was starting to not sound like a word.
But then… surely, if it was something so incriminating, Judy wouldn’t be acting so cordial, right? But what else--
“One of your tail lights is out,” Judy says, and Tara’s thought process stops completely.
“My tail…?” Amber says, clearly just as confused, turning in her seat to look back at Tara as if she’d know the answer.
They both stare at one another, eyes flicking back and forth, eyebrows pulled taught in twin expressions of bewilderment, until--
Tara’s eyes widened and she clapped once, the sound muffled by Amber’s sleeves covering her hands, “Oh!” She gestures to Amber, trying to find words amidst the soup of her brain. “Th-The, The-- Luke! Luke kicked it out! I told you!”
Judy frowns. “Luke?”
“Some asshole. It’s nothing,” Amber says, turning back to Judy with a placating smile stretching her face. “Yeah, I forgot about that. I’ll get it fixed.”
Judy didn’t seem encouraged by this assurance, “If somebody damaged your vehicle, you should report it to--”
“No, really, it’s fine. It’s all… gravy,” Amber says, insistent. “Seriously, Sheriff, it’s no big deal. I’ll get it fixed.”
Judy pulls her mouth to the side, eyeing them both, “Alright… but you should know, it’s dangerous to be driving around at night with only one tail light. Cyclists are most at risk. I won’t write you up this time, but”--she pointed at Amber, stern, but losing some impact with the unmistakable lilt in her tone that indicated she’d never planned on doing so in the first place--“you get it repaired soon as you can. Toot sweet.”
Amber nodded once, an exaggerated dip in her whole body, and gave a two-finger salute. “Aye, aye, captain.”
Judy huffed, amused, and shook her head. “You girls get on home, now. It’s a school night!”
Tara deflates at that, watching Judy retreat back to her squad car with a small wave. It is a school night. Fuck. Despite this, and despite the anxiety still pooling in her stomach and making her feel sick, there’s a distinct buzz settling onto her body.
There’s a familiar tension in the air, one that makes her chest tight and her skin feel tighter, this feeling of anticipation and held breath as they both hear Judy close her door, watch her pull past them with a wave, and then as she disappears down the road and around a corner to continue her patrol.
They exhale as one, Tara’s shoulders slumping and Amber breaking the silence with a cackle.
“Ho-ly shit,” Amber says, smacking the wheel with excited hands and facing her with a look of unadulterated glee on her face. “I thought we were cooked for a second there. When you started laughing?”
“I know,” Tara says, voice still wavering with giggles. “I know, it’s just… god, this is insane, right? I feel fucking crazy right now.”
If Amber is put off by her less-than stable demeanour, she doesn’t show it. If anything, her grin gets wider, bordering on Cheshire Cat levels of wickedness. “Well, it’s as they say; we all go a little mad sometimes, huh?”
The laugh caught in her chest barks out of her and she covers her face. “We sure fucking do…”
“You did great, by the way,” Amber says and Tara hears the creak of her seat before a cool hand grabs her wrist to pull it away from her face. Her smile isn’t as sharp now, Amber’s eyes squinting in genuine mirth and she rubs her thumb on the back of Tara’s hand. “Seriously, I know you’ve had, uh… a rough night so, like, you really pulled it off just now.”
Tara’s eyes avert from the praise automatically, smile shy. “Thanks…”
The conversation pre-pullover is still fresh in her mind, and the emotions that came with it even moreso. With a final squeeze, Amber releases her hand grabs the wheel, pulling them back onto the road.
Tara realises, without much shock, that she might be in love.
“I think…” she starts, feeling something like resolve running through her body. “I, uh… if I said, hypothetically, yes.”
“Yes to… what?” Amber says, not taking her eyes of the road but visibly perking up.
“To what you said. Earlier,” Tara’s voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, reluctant to bare her soul like this but being unable to stop. Her thoughts feel incomplete but she need to get this out before the fear overtakes her. “In the woods. Whatever it was you and Richie”-- she can’t help the derision in her voice as she says his name-- “were gonna do, I want… You said if we did this together it’d be better.”
The word ‘this’ feels heavy in her mouth with the amount of things it could mean. She means all of them. Everything.
Amber inhales sharply, still facing the front, almost nervous to look over. “...really?”
“...yeah.”
Her mouth opens, a breath caught in her throat. She doesn’t know if she should say this next part, but… but it seems as though Amber already has her figured out.
“I… liked it,” Tara rasps and there’s an immediate weight off her shoulders, a giddy lightness in her chest that expands with the admission. “I liked it a lot. I liked… killing that guy.” With every word, the next becomes easier, though the consonant catches on her molars on the way out--the word killing still filled her with dread and excitement in equal measure. Beside her, Amber had begun nodding slowly, either in encouragement or agreement but it spurs her on regardless. “When I saw him grab you like that… I don’t know, it’s like I couldn’t stop myself. I got so mad, but at the same time I got really calm? Like, I just knew. I knew what I was gonna do and I really, really fuckin’ wanted to, Am, it was really… I’ve never felt like that before. A-And I think I would have kept going--hitting him--if you hadn’t pulled me off. It felt… god,” Tara looks down at her hands, flicking her wrists so the sleeves fall away and reveal the redness of her palms; not from the blood, but from friction. From the torch in her hands and the impacts that followed. She squeezes them into fists and relishes the ache. “It felt really good.”
Amber is glancing between her and the road with an expression that makes her look like a kid on Christmas morning who just woke up to a brand new bike. She still doesn’t say anything, and the silence makes a spike of doubt pierce Tara’s stomach.
“I think there’s something wrong with me…”
“No,” Amber says sharply, eyebrows suddenly furrowing defensively. She makes a turn and Tara realises they’re already closer to Amber’s house than she thought. “There’s nothing…” She pauses, huffs a laugh. “Well, I’d be lying if I said there’s nothing wrong with you, but if it makes you feel any better, whatever’s wrong with you is definitely what’s wrong with me.”
Tara giggles and oh, it feels so good to laugh about this. It feels so good to share this part of herself she’d only just realised was even a reality. “It does make me feel better, actually.”
Amber’s smile twitches at the corner, her hands shuffling on the wheel in excitement. “The best part is watching them realise how fucked they are. That fear in their eyes when you get the upper hand,” Amber laughs once, a restrained and high-pitched exhale. “So good.”
Tara stares at her a moment. “So, you’ve done that before? You’ve... you've killed someone?”
The word still thrills her.
Amber relaxes somewhat, a slight pout to her lips and a distance in her eyes that implies her thoughts are far away.
“My dad took me camping once,” Amber says. The statement takes her by surprise with how out-of-nowhere it feels, but if she’s learned anything by now it’s that Amber’s stories usually lead to something important. So she listens. Amber continues. “I was only little, like… I don’t know, 10, 11 maybe? He took me out to the middle of nowhere and we get all set up, tent and sleeping bags and shit, the works. Only, I’m looking through all these bags he brought and I’m like, hey, dad, where’s all the food? And he says oh, I didn’t bring any. We’re gonna be hunting our own. Isn’t that fun?” Amber snorts and Tara does too, an incredulous crease in her brow. She wasn’t exactly buddies with Amber’s father, but she knew enough about him to know he wasn’t the rugged outdoorsman type.
“So I’m obviously pissed the fuck off,” Amber continues. “I’m like, god, what the hell? You drag me out into the middle of the woods for some stupid camping trip I didn’t even wanna be on, and you didn’t even bring any food? What, are you stupid? Whatever, we move. Obviously, I’m mad as hell all day, once we actually get out there to try hunting shit I’m even madder because it’s all just rabbits and fuckin’… birds and shit, and all I’m thinking about is all the fast food signs we passed to get here in the first place. So I’m sat in this bush, feeling like Elmer fucking Fudd, and this deer walks into the clearing. Not a buck, just a normal deer, but it was huge. I mean, compared to my pre-teen ass. And I get all excited because finally, y’know? Like, if I’m gonna be out here shooting shit it might as well be something big.
“So I get ready to aim and my dad stops me because oooh no, it’s not deer season, we’d get a fine, I’m not old enough, blah blah blah. And I think, oh, I’m not old enough to shoot a deer but I’m old enough for you to drag me out here in the freezing cold for three goddamn hours? I just remember being so angry at him and thinking, man, shut up, because the deer could hear him whispering and it looked like it was getting ready to bolt, so I waited for him to let go of my rifle and fired at it,” Amber laughs then. “God, you shoulda seen this thing, it dropped like a fuckin’ brick.”
Tara’s eyes widened. “You got it in one?”
“I did,” Amber says, pride clear in her voice. “Right in the head. It kinda flopped around for a sec before it fell, but it was a bullseye. Well, my dad flipped out, started yelling at me, all,” Amber suddenly dropped into a mocking baritone. “Jesus Christ, Amber, Jesus Christ. I told you not to shoot the damn thing, you stupid girl,” she laughed again. “I’ve never seen him that mad. God, it was funny. We get up to go check on it and he’s still huffing and puffing, and it’s still alive. Barely, I mean, like, it wasn’t getting up again, but it was still breathing. Eyes are going crazy, frothing at the mouth, legs twitching. Gnarly shit. And all I could think was… wow… I did that. I felt kinda bad, sure, but mostly? I was just thinking about the rush. That moment I thought it was getting away and I just went for it and got it, this thing that was way bigger than me, and it hadn’t even been that hard.”
They’re getting closer to Amber’s house now, she can tell from the trees outside. Like most of Amber’s stories, Tara had remained enraptured through the entire thing, staring intently at Amber’s profile against the occasional glow of a streetlamp that passed them by.
Tara waits a beat. “...then what?”
Amber glances over at her and smiles. “Well, after my dad calmed down, he starts lecturing me about hunting laws and zones and shit, really lays into me about it. I didn’t really pay attention. He tells me that I need to put the poor thing out of its misery. I think he was trying to teach me a lesson about consequences or something, but I, uh…” Amber snorts. “I don’t think it really sunk in.”
“Jesus,” Tara says, laughing herself. “Yeah, kinda missed the mark on that one, huh?”
“He’s just staring at me with his hands on his hips and it’s just the funniest fuckin’ thing. And I look back down at this deer and half the back of it’s skull is just gone, I really don’t know how it survived past that point. So I shoot it again, right between the eyes, and that was that. Kind of disappointing, to be honest, but… obviously, hah, left an impression on me. We ended up only staying one night. My dad got so paranoid the rangers were gonna come and find us, he packed up the next day and we went home. Never took me camping again.
“So, to answer your question; no. I haven’t killed a person,” Amber glances at her. “But I really, really want to.”
The words shock her despite everything. The blunt admission paired with the clear yearning in Amber’s voice creates a dichotomy in Tara’s mind she doesn’t know how to contend with, and yet it thrills her for the exact same reasons.
“Is that what the plan was?” Tara asks after a moment, voice tempered to hide the swelling excitement in her chest. “You and… you two were gonna just… go on some killing spree?”
Amber shrugs, almost sheepish. “In not so many words? Yeah, that… that was pretty much the plan.”
Tara exhales a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and nods. Okay. Okay, sure. There’s a flash of jealousy that she quickly tries to quash but once it sparks, she can’t do much to put the flames out. This whole time, for months now, Amber had been planning on killing people without her? With just some fucking guy she met online?
Some voice within is telling her that’s not really the part she should be upset about, but considering what she’d done only a couple of hours ago, and considering the clear joy she’d felt while doing it, and considering the blood on that torch was probably still wet, she didn’t have much room to feel disgust at the concept of murder.
She reaches up, fingers pressing into her pounding temples, and tries to think. If she hadn’t done what she’d done tonight, if she and Amber hadn’t rekindled their relationship when they had, if Tara had just kept on living, blissfully unaware of the monster inside herself, what would have happened? Would she have ever found out? What was it about this Richie guy that had pulled Amber away from her? What had he done? What did he have that she… oh god, was this about fucking Stab again?
Of course it was. Of course it was.
Tara looks up, feeling the car slow and watching Amber’s house come into full view and it all feels so goddamn obvious now, doesn’t it? It had been staring her right in the face this whole time. Of course this was about Stab.
“What about in so many words?” Tara asks. “If the short answer is ‘yes’, what’s the long answer?”
Amber doesn’t answer her right away, taking pains to pull into her spot on the dirt road with diligent precision and all the while, Tara stared into the side of her head. Amber’s expression was thoughtful, eyes flicking this way and that, seemingly in search of the words, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.
“It’s… kind of…” Amber starts, words halting and strained, but at least having the decency to look at Tara as she said them. “It’s a lot. Kind of a long story and you… you look pretty exhausted right now, I don’t think yo--”
“Amber, I-- no, forget that. Fuck that,” Tara interrupts, eyebrows furrowing and eyelids fluttering with a million thoughts. She huffs, petulant, and swiftly reaches across to grab one of Amber’s hands in both of her own, twisting in her seat. “You need… we need to be honest with each other now, okay? I want to do this. Do you understand? I want to do this with you.”
Her words are firm, but she can’t help the twinge of desperation; the slight waver in her tone, the way she squeezes Amber’s hand so tightly she wonders if she’s cutting off circulation. They hadn’t made it this far, she hadn’t had this awful epiphany about herself, just to stumble at the last hurdle. Amber stays silent, eye’s wide and shining. Anticipating.
Tara’s sigh is shaky, but its exhalation steadies her nerves. “I want to do this. But I need the truth. All of it. Okay?”
Amber nods immediately. “Yeah. Yes. Whatever you want.”
Tara nods too. “Good. Good.”
There’s a lapse in talking, where they both just stare at one another. The porch light is still on and it casts the car’s interior in a warm glow, the side of Amber’s face in its rays softening her features, making the adoration on her face even more obvious. Her hand feels cool between Tara’s trembling fingers, the dirt still pressed into the creases of their palms rubbing together.
Tara’s heart stutters and she feels the overwhelming urge to lean across the console and kiss her.
Doesn’t this feel familiar?
And just like last time, the moment passes and Amber reaches up with her other hand to squeeze both of hers. “We should get inside. There’s… there’s a lot.”
Tara swallows hard. “Yeah. Okay.”
She knows she should probably be dreading this part. She knows whatever Amber is so hesitant to tell her won’t be anything she wants to hear, but it’s what she needs to hear. There’s adrenaline in her stomach, curdling it’s insides, and as they both reach for their respective handles, Amber’s hand remains in hers until the last moment.