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Sam was nervous. She chewed her lip and took one last deep breath before she pushed open the door to the visitor’s side of Woodsboro Penitentiary. She tried to imitate her usual confidence as she walked toward the metal detector, smiling and waving at the guard behind the glass. She had been here many times before, visiting inmates as part of a community outreach program. She always wore a lot of jewelry, intentionally setting off the metal detectors. She planned this. She consoled herself in her mind as her heart pounded with every step. She could do this.
Today she wore no jewelry, yet the alert sounded as it always did when she walked through. She looked to the guard, the same one as always on this shift. He had come out from his office the first few times she visited to wand her down. He had always seemed a little embarrassed to do it; she would lift her shirt to show her navel ring and a large belt buckle. He rarely went to the effort anymore, and today was a busy day with a long line of people behind her.
“Carpenter, you’re good.” His voice buzzed through the speaker before he waved her through.
Sam passed through the next set of doors with a sigh of relief. The hard part was over. She headed for her usual table, but before she could even get across the room—a convict with a familiar face nearly shoulder checked her. He had stopped just short, though he didn’t look at or acknowledge her in any way. She fought the urge to look at his face, keeping her eyes trained on the sleeve of his pale blue jumpsuit.
“Did you bring it?" He murmured softly to her.
Sam subtly lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing the hilt of the knife tucked in the waistband of her jeans. The sheath itched against her skin. A minor inconvenience, but not for much longer.
"Good girl," he breathed against her ear so quietly, she thought maybe she imagined it. He lifted the knife off her with a fluidness that betrayed his experience with the weapon; and in that moment, Sam felt utterly weightless. Untethered. Dangerous.
Billy didn’t waste time. He moved like a predator stalking behind an unsuspecting guard. Sam heard a gurgle and then saw the knife plunged straight through the guard’s neck. There was a scarlet spray; and then the air turned dense with panicked screams.
People ran for the exit, but the doors were locked. At least one person was trampled in the chaos of bodies trying to escape at once. At least Sam thought so, but when she next turned around Billy was taking a gun off the dead guard and heading right for her.
It was violent, the way he grabbed her by the hair. He had the gun against her head, using her body as a shield while prison staff responded. They drew their weapons, and she held her hands out and whimpered like a victim. Her heart pounded in its cage, but not out of fear.
“Open the doors, or she fucking dies!”
Sam struggled against his hold to make it look good, but wanted anything but escape from him.
The guards on duty were looking at each other, sweaty and shaking a bit, unsure. Sam wanted to giggle. They should just shoot us. She thought madly to herself. She conspired to break him out. Wasn’t it obvious already? But all they saw was a hostage, which she supposed she was now, willing or not. And Woodsboro PD had never been accused of competency.
The doors opened with a buzz, and Billy pulled her through the crowd. The thick crowd was enough to shield them until they got outside. Sam had a car parked close to the front with the keys still in the ignition.
By the time the cops caught up to them, Sam was in the driver’s seat with Billy still pointing the gun at her head and screaming, “Drive, bitch!" It was performative. A little over the top. Sam rolled her eyes and hit the gas. They tore through the parking lot and began a high speed chase.
With cruisers on their tail, Sam took a sharp left down a dirt road. Not sure if they would survive this part, she swerved at the last minute off the trail to take a narrow gap between two trees. Bark scraped both sides of the car, making an awful noise and taking off both side mirrors. The cop cars tried to pursue them on the dirt path, but suddenly skidded out, tires giving way with a satisfying pop. They never saw the spike strip. Sam had laid it herself earlier in the day.
It was dark out by the time they finally reached the safehouse. It was remote and sparsely furnished, supplied with only the essentials. Not somewhere to hide out for long, just an in-between sort of space.
Sam felt sticky. She was eager to shower and change her clothes. Billy had changed in the car once all the excitement had died down. She had respectfully tried to keep her eyes on the road, but curiosity compelled her to steal a few quick glances. She hoped her complexion hid the deep blush on her face. She tried to shake the thoughts from her head, before heading for the shower.
Billy intercepted her, much like he had in her mind since the day she learned he was her real father. Taking her established world and turning it on its head. Spinning her thoughts like a never ending game of roulette. Red or black? Dad or killer?
“Take these off already,” he growled at her, pulling her in by a fistfull of her shirt.
“Um, I was going to—” she tried to take a step back, but he followed her.
He pressed her into the wall, grabbing her jaw in one hand and turning her head so he could nose at her neck. He seemed to inhale her secrets as he did so.
“What are you—” Sam’s voice halted as he licked a stripe up the column of her throat.
“Don’t be like that. I caught you eye-fucking me earlier.” He pressed a hand between her legs, as if he could learn the shape of her through her jeans. He cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows like he was taunting her.
Sam pushed him away, flustered. “Wait.”
Billy hissed a tight breath between his teeth. “I haven’t had a woman in years. You better talk fast.”
Her mind raced as her world tilted. “Did you kill them?”
His eyes traced the shape of her body. “Who?”
She swallowed nervously. “Casey Becker, Tatum Riley, Sidney—”
With a glint of steel she felt the tip of the knife on her chest before she could finish.
“That bitch deserved it.” His eyes narrowed in anger. He ran the tip of the blade down the center of her chest, and seemed to relish the way her breath stuttered. He licked his lips, looking absolutely starved.
Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted to stab her or eat her alive. This man had a body count. He killed women whose only crime was perceived injustices against him.
“Are you going to kill me?”
He laughed cruelly at her. “Do I look like your boyfriend?”
Sam bit her cheek at that. He wasn’t like any man she had been with, but she did want to know him. In every way.
Ultimately she wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but it didn’t take long once they had. She thought he might have cut the shirt off her, but she was distracted as she clawed her way through his pants and top. She pushed and he pulled, taking her down onto the mattress with him.
It was sloppy, really. The way she took him in her mouth for just a moment, saliva dripping down his cock. She moved back up to his face, trying to position him at her entrance with her hand, but it was hard to focus with the way he was biting at her. He kissed her in a brutal way, crushing her against him as he took lips and tongue between his teeth, knocking against her own.
“Mmf—ah!” She moaned when he finally did slip inside her. She watched his head drop back, pupils blown dark as pitch.
“Fuck.” He hissed, grabbing her hips with fervor.
She rode him. A little too slowly for his liking, judging by the way he gripped her. But he didn’t try to fight her. He let her take what she wanted as she pleased. It was the least he could do.
Sam was taking him so deep. She cried out every time she took him to the hilt. She felt his breath hot on her face, and she felt like molten lava. “I—” She panted and gasped, “I can’t—”
He wrapped a hand in her hair and pulled until she had to look him in the eyes. “You can.” His crushing grip on her hip started pulling at her with more urgency.
Sam wanted to sob at how good she felt. Like a void in her was finally filled. A piece she didn’t know was missing.
“Come on, baby,” he whispered against her skin, “fucking finish me.”
Sam gasped and felt herself clench around him. She snapped her hips aggressively, determined. She took him fast, biting her own lip bloody as she came, but she didn’t stop. She grinded her body against his until she heard him groan, and felt a hot pulse inside her.
Sam rolled off him with a huff, exhausted. She stared at the ceiling for a minute before covering her eyes with her hand. “It’s okay,” she told herself, “you never held me when I was a baby.” Her excuses felt as weak as her knees.
Billy had turned to face her, tracing a pattern with his fingers up her arm. “I can hold you now.”