Chapter Eighteen / Two Graves, One Gun

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“IS THIS EVEN a good plan?”

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“IS THIS EVEN a good plan?”

The metro station is a place Ellie-Marie avoids if she can afford it.  There's never a moment of silence nor an inch of space provided from the strangers New York City has to offer, overloading every possible sense in the world while adding enough anxiety for Ellie to shut down for at least a week.  Even now, marching in the middle of their Ghostface-hunting group, she can feel herself growing hyper-aware of every face she can make out through makeup or masks.  There's no safety in public places, she knows.  It'd be safer to be secluded; at least they'd be able to run.

Unlike Ethan,  she's willing to keep these grievances to herself.

“You don't have to come if you don't want to,”  Tara snaps at her side, not sparing a look Ethan's way as they round the next set of stairs.  She's not let go of Ellie's hand once since leaving the lobby,  not even when added safety came in the form of Abi at her side and Dad just in front of her.  For the first time the impossible has been achieved: staying in a group while navigating the subway.  

The only one trailing a little behind is Ethan, making his displeasure more than known as though making up for his slowness.

“So we just peel off and the killer picks us off one by one?  No,  thank you.”  Ethan scoffs.  His arrogance makes Ellie's nose crinkle in distaste, now shooting a glance over her shoulder to eye Buffy.  Perhaps her suspicions of Ethan are unwarranted,  maybe she's holding the person who dares to date her sister to a near impossible level,  but knowing this doesn't dampen her caution in the slightest.  For once she's the one confident in her movie knowledge: never trust the boyfriend.

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