Every Other Final Girl

PROLOGUE | OPENING CREDIT SCENE

PROLOGUE | OPENING CREDIT SCENE
NINA'S POV
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The second you're running from a serial killer outside after the sun's gone down, it's over for you. You're dead. You're extra dead if you're running through someone's unrealistically massive backyard.

The girl that's been running in lingerie being used as casual underwear trips, her ankle catching itself on the roots of an oak. As soon as she hits the grass, she rolls onto her back and lets out a blood curdling scream. The killer grins, lifting his ax before burying it into her--for lack of better word, heaving--chest.

Her screams shift into choked, tiny sobs just as a terrible giggle escapes me. The sound is ill timed, but the longer the large man continues to stab at the girl, the worse my fit of laughter gets.

"Nina!" Debbie punctuates her attempt at scolding me by shoving my arm.

I tear my eyes away from the screen, apologetically looking at one of my closest friends. "You can't get mad at me for laughing at this kinda movie, Debs." My hand dips into the bowl of popcorn between us. "The first thing Rachel said when she got here was 'oh my god you guys, I think I did it. I think I finally found the worst horror movie of all time.'"

Debbie glares at me as I pop a piece of popcorn into my mouth. "You laughed right when she got killed. You always do that nervous laugh when something bad happens."

I scoff, sinking further into the living room couch. "Do not."

"Yeah, you do," Elena breathes, "You have your entire life. When we were little and got in trouble, she'd giggle right before she got caught."

The way I glare at my sister is so deadly I'm surprised she doesn't actually die. "Shut up! I'm your sister, your twin, you shouldn't backstab me like that."

"That's a little dramatic, Nins," Rachel hums, eyes trained on the TV screen. After a minute of silence, she snorts. "You let out the same laugh when Logan Whitts walked right past you and asked Sophie Austens to homecoming."

Debbie grins, "And when you hit what was probably a possum driving me home the other night."

Rolling my eyes, I turn back to the screen. "For the last time, I didn't hit anything. It was a speed bump or rock or something." The two laugh teasingly. There's nothing they love more than a joke about my driving. "It's my last night before I move to California, you two have to be nice to me."

Rachel grabs a handful of popcorn. "You didn't ask us to be nice to you on your last night, you asked us to be normal."

Her joke earns her a pointed eye roll. After that, our attention shifts back to the movie. The killer is now chasing down another girl in a lace bralette and underwear set.

"In all seriousness, I'm gonna miss you two."
I frown, focusing even harder on the the overly pretty actor playing a murderer. Wow--attractive people doing messed up things really makes me question my morals. "Don't--we said no sappy moments. You two are going to visit over breaks and so are we. Plus, we can call all the time."

"Still, it totally sucks. Our mom gets a new boyfriend and we need to move to some place called Woodsboro in California." Elena leans forward, reaching for the box of milk duds on the coffee table. She frowns when she realizes it's empty.  "I need more sugar to combat the depression, I'm going to the kitchen for a soda."

Rachel shifts as Elena stands. "I'm just glad we found the worst horror movie of all time before you left. It's been a goal of ours since freshman year."

"Eh," I begin reluctantly, watching as more substance that looks more like ketchupy paint than blood coats the killer's hands. "This one's bad, but it's not the worst scary movie ever. It's barely a horror movie, it lacks the two most important components it needs to be considered a scary movie."

Rachel pauses, considering my words. "Like 10 people have been killed, pretty sure it's not a comedy."

My nose wrinkles in contemplation. "No, but it lacks the two most important horror movie qualities. There's no suspense--you know that the killer's got them. Like right now--the main character's friend has been getting some attention, she's going to walk into her bedroom, start changing, and he's going to be waiting in the closet. She'll get to run down the hall and that's it."

The movie proves my point, following my predictions to a tee. "Okay, and what's the other thing it needs?"

"It needs a character that the audience has some kind of emotional connection with that survives. Without that hope, watching a guy stab girls in their underwear after cheesy one-liners is basically a comedy." Rachel and Debbie groan at the same time. "What?"

"We should have known that you were leading up to the argument on the importance of a Final Girl."

I turn to face Rachel. "Never underestimate the importance of having a Final Girl! They literally make franchises."