Chapter 7: The Flesh Carver

Lina's POV

I look around me and see that I am surrounded by darkness. I begin to panic, not knowing where I am. Where's Spencer? Glancing down, I realize that I'm barefoot and standing in water. Wait, no. I'm standing on water.

Suddenly, I see a light in front of me—it grows brighter and brighter until I am blinded by it. Squinting my eyes, I see a tall figure in front of me.

"Spencer, is that you?" I call out. The light fades and I see him standing there, smiling at me. I leap forward to hug him but he moves back. Confused, I try again and he starts moving further away from me. I start running, trying to catch him but eventually, he gets too far away and disappears. 

Tears stream down my face. "No, no, no... Spencer! Spencer! Spencer!"

"Hey, hey. I'm here," a voice says.

I slowly open my eyes and see a bright light on the ceiling. Turning my head, I see Spencer, his eyes round with worry. "Oh, hey, Spence." As I become more aware of my surroundings, I feel his hand in mine. "What happened? And where am I?"

"You're in a hospital, you had surgery for appendicitis." His voice is calm.

"That explains the IV needle in my arm," I joke and he smiles. Just then, I realize the scar on my wrist is completely exposed, so I quickly use my free hand to cover it up but Spencer stops me.

"Lina...." He stares down at our interlocked hands and massages his thumb over my knuckles.

I look up at him and see his worried expression. "What's wrong, Spencer?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you were abducted before, and that your name used to be Angelina?"

I feel my heart drop. He figured it out. "What are you talking about?" I smile and play dumb, but he shakes his head.

"Lina, this scar on your wrist," he says, "it's the same one as the victims of the Flesh Carver."

We lock eyes with each other for a few moments, and I feel tears running down my cheeks.

"Oh, Lina. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have brought this up." He squeezes my hand.

I sigh. "I just never told anyone because I have trouble trusting others."

"You don't need to talk about it." He cups my hand in his.

"No, I have to. For so long, I've kept this to myself—it's time that I told someone about it," I say firmly. Spencer has been nothing but nice to me for the past 2 months. He brings me coffee every morning, keeps me company late at night so I can finish up some work, and even bought Pumpkin my cat a little hat for his birthday.

"Whenever you're ready." Spencer leans closer to me.

I nod and take a shuddering breath. "It happened on the day of my 24th birthday...."

Three years ago.

"Angelinaaaa!" Phoebe calls my name from the living room.

"I'm almost ready!" I yell back from the bathroom.

Today is my 24th birthday and Phoebe somehow convinced me that we should go clubbing. I slip on the lacy black dress that she picked out for me and look in the mirror. The neckline is too low and the dress is too short. Ugh, Phoebe. I mentally groan.

"What is taking you so long?" Phoebe comes in and looks up and down at me. "Well, well, well—you look hot."

"Shut up." I roll my eyes playfully.

"Come on, let's go!" She grabs my hand and drags me out of the bathroom.

I can't help but notice how amazing she looks tonight. She is wearing a beautiful emerald green dress that compliments her red hair, along with a pair of silver strappy heels.

Checking my phone, I see that it is 11:02 p.m. and sigh since I hate going out late. But Phoebe says that it is the best time to go clubbing.

We leave my apartment and step outside, the warm summer air hitting me in the face. "Which club are we going to first?" I question her.

Phoebe smirks. "You'll know when we get there," she answers with a wink. After that, she calls a cab and we get in, driving to the place that she so desperately wants me to go.

Upon arrival, I can hear music coming from inside the club. "Oh, Phoebe... you know how much I hate loud music," I whine with annoyance.

"Loosen up a bit, Angelina, it'll be fun!" She grabs my hand and I reluctantly follow her inside. When we enter, the music is unbearably loud.

"Phoebe I can't do this!" I yell, barely able to hear myself speak.

"What?!" she shouts back.

"I said, I can't do this!"

Phoebe gives me a huge smile. "I can't hear youuuu!!! Let's go get some drinks!"

I sigh and follow her. But at one point, I lose sight of her and start to panic. But finally, after 10 minutes of pushing and weaving through sweaty, drunk, and high clubbers, I finally find Phoebe holding two cocktails in her hands. "Phoebe!" I call out.

She turns and looks at me. "There you are!" she shrieks happily and runs towards me. "Here, drink up." She forces the straw in my mouth and I take a sip.

"Ugh!" I spit.

"C'mon, it's not that bad," she retorts and takes a huge sip herself. "Hey, you'll only be young for so long—take advantage of it, I'll be here for you." She grins at me.

I roll my eyes. "Fine, I guess." Phoebe is the complete opposite of me—she loves parties, clubbing, drinking, you name it. While I enjoy staying at home watching TV shows, reading books, or online shopping. But if we have one thing in common, it's that we care about each other very much. About an hour later, I start getting used to the loud environment, or maybe it's the two martinis I had that's relaxing me.

All of a sudden, a random girl next to me trips and spills her drink all over my dress. "I'm so sorry!" she apologizes and grabs some tissues nearby. "Here, let me clean you up." She starts rubbing at my dress sloppily. I can tell she is drunk.

"It's fine, I can take care of it myself," I huff.

"Are you sure?" she asks, slurring. Before I can answer, a group of her friends come by and pull her away, laughing and shrieking. I sigh and continue to clean my alcohol-soaked dress. But then, I look around and realize that I lost Phoebe again. I walk around the club and finally find her, except she isn't alone—she is with a handsome-looking guy that looks like he's in his thirties, and he has a tattoo of a rose on the side of his neck.

"Phoebe?" I walk up to her, eyeing the man suspiciously. "Who's this?"

Her stance is wobbly. "Hey, Angelina," she says, "this is Michael." She is drunk beyond means so I stop her as she's about to take another sip of her drink.

"I think you've had enough."

"Don't tell me when I've had enough." She frowns. "Besides, Mr. Michael here is paying."

"That's right, sugar plum," Michael says as he pulls her closer.

I scoff and roll my eyes at him. "Excuse me, I need to have a word with sugar plum here," I pull Phoebe towards me.

"Angelina, I love you to death but you're kinda interrupting something here." She scowls at me.

"Phoebe, I just want you to be careful." I begin. "You heard about the guy that has been stalking, abducting, and killing women lately?"

"Yeah, yeah. I knowwww," she answers, slurring.

"Come on, let's get you home." I hook my arm with hers.

"No!" Phoebe whines and shakes me off. "Listen, it's not my fault you're so uptight and can never have fun. Maybe that's why all your ex-boyfriends left you!"

I gasp and tears welling up in my eyes. But then I get angry. "You know what—fine! Do what you want with Michael, see if I give a shit!" I storm off and immediately feel people staring at me.

"Wait, Angelina I'm sorry!" Phoebe yells from behind me but I ignore her. I feel bad for snapping at her but I'm too tired and sweaty to care.

When I get home, it's already 2:18 a.m. so I hop in the shower to get ready for bed. I check my cell phone and see that I have 11 missed calls and two voicemails from Phoebe. She's probably called me to apologize but I don't care and I go to sleep.

The next morning, I wake up at noon, feeling refreshed. It's the weekend so I don't have to work. I feel bad about what happened last night between me and Phoebe so I decide to give her a call. My phone rings a few times but it goes to voicemail.

"Hey, it's Phoebe! I'm busy right now, so leave a message after the beep," says her pre-recorded message and I furrow my brows. That's strange. Phoebe rarely misses calls, especially when I'm calling. I try again but the same thing happens.

Maybe she's mad at me for ignoring her calls last night. I think to myself. In the end, I decide to open the voicemail messages that she left me, but all I hear is heavy breathing and whimpering. Then her terrified voice comes on.

"Angelina...." Phoebe's whisper plays quietly from the phone. "Help me, it's Michael. He's the guy that has been abducting all those women—and now he has me." I gasp in horror as I realize what has happened to her. "I'm sorry for calling you no fun, but please help me. I gotta go, he's coming back." Then she hangs up.

"No no no no no!!!" I cry. I open the second voicemail that was sent an hour later from the first one, and I hear raspy breathing.

"Watch out, Angelina," Phoebe groans weakly. "Michael said that he's going to get you next—you have to hide and call the police. I love you, Angelina.... You're my best friend." All of a sudden, I hear another voice—it sounds like man and I'm pretty sure it's Michael.

"How the hell did you get your phone?!?" Michael booms. "You're gonna regret this." I hear stabbing sounds and Phoebe's screams, then the voicemail ends. I put down my phone and try to process everything that's happened—if I had stayed with her at the club this would've never happened. The media has warned the public to stay with friends while clubbing.

"I'm so sorry, Phoebe!" I sob. I am about to crawl back into my covers to cry when a thought flashes through my mind. She may be still alive, and she also warned me that Michael's coming for me next. I quickly run out of my room to check the lock on the front door—everything is secure so I breathe a sigh of relief. Just then my cell phone rings so I go back to my room. My heart jumps when I see it is Phoebe and I quickly pick up. "Phoebe! Where are you, are you okay?"

"Phoebe's not here," a man's voice answers and I realize that it is Michael.

"What did you do to her?" I demand.

"Guess you're about to find out," Michael replies, his voice right behind me. I slowly turn around and see him standing there with a baseball hat and I shriek with fear.

Whack!

He hits me in the back of my head and I fall unconscious, only to wake up to the searing pain of a knife slicing through my skin. Panic flows through me as I prepare myself for the torture I'm about to receive, and I'll never forget the pain and the fear of that day....

Present

I don't even realize that tears are streaming down my cheeks until I feel Spencer's hand cupping my face. I look at him and see tears in his eyes as well.

"I'm so sorry to hear this, Lina." Spencer wipes away my tears.

I sigh. "It's my fault she's dead," I say guiltily. "If I had just stayed with her—" Before I'm able to finish my sentence, I burst out crying. I feel Spencer wrap his arms around me and I bury my face in his chest.

"Shhh, it's not your fault Lina," he whispers and rubs his hand on my back. "Don't forget, you were also tortured by him, too." But I'm still alive and Phoebe's dead. I think to myself.

All I want to do is blame myself for getting my best friend killed, but no one has ever held and comforted me this way so I let myself enjoy this moment. I breathe in and inhale Spencer's scent and feel myself relax. My abdomen is still sore from the surgery and I'm tired from crying. Before long, I break my own rule about sleeping in front of people and fall asleep in Spencer's arms.