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Sidney pulled a beer from the bottom shelf of her fridge. She cracked the bottle open, leaving the cap on the counter. Bringing the bottle to her lips, she reached for the bowl of chips with her free hand. She gathered her snacks and migrated to her favorite corner of the couch. As the opening credits of the horror movie flashed over the room, she took another swig and pulled her computer into her lap.

The opening death of the movie screamed through the shifting shadows of her living room as she opened Brady’s email and launched the gallery from their photoshoot. Her naked form consumed the screen. Brady had cranked up the contrast, saturation, and clarity on the image, which paled Sidney’s skin and sharpened the lines. Her body lay unnervingly contorted in the base of the white tub, her eyes wild and face grimaced. He had enhanced the blood until it almost glimmered.

The blood was the subject, and she was the landscape.

She felt her eyes wander the curves of her own image, critiquing and cataloging. Did she see that bulge Brady tried to obscure? Was her thigh too thick turned unnaturally like that? Were those wrinkles nestled in the blood spatter on her face? The thoughts swelled in her brain, crowding her mind.

She closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and looked at the picture again. She drew her focus out away from the shape of her body to take in the entire image. Brady’s composition was perfect, as always. His processing made the image disturbing yet hauntingly beautiful. He made her part of something, and she forced herself to ingest the whole.

She scrolled though the other edits then typed a reply to Brady: Bitch, these pictures are AMAZING! Release one tonight so I can use it as a teaser for my article?

As the email vanished into cyberspace, she began her evening ritual of moving through her social media accounts. She began on Instagram. She found it most effective to ease in on pictures. In her first notification, she discovered Brady had already begun posting their pictures.

“He’s way ahead of me,” she mumbled to herself, smiling.

He had already posted the first picture from their private proofs gallery up on all his socials. Clearly, his favorite. He always processed and posted his favorite image first, unable to temper his joy, unwilling to make their audience wait.

@JaggedRainbowPhoto: @FinalGirlScreams making a blood bath look sexy!

A flurry of hashtags followed Brady’s caption. Sidney reposted on Instagram, approved and shared on Facebook, retweeted on Twitter, and shared on every other social media platform she had.

A little taste of what’s coming in my next article, she wrote on each post.

With her naked, bloody body cast far across the vast internet, she took a breath and lifted her fingers from the keys. She reclined against the couch cushions and allowed her eyes to trade the laptop screen for the television. She lost herself in the slow-moving pursuit of a serial killer as the notifications racked up on her screen.

Wicked!

That is so HOT!

I love your work. Please check out my page.

That girl needs to invest in better tampons.

“Straight boys,” Sidney said, shaking her head as she parsed through the comments.

Johnny has sent you a photo.

“Well, that’s a dick picture. Delete.”

She tabbed away from her browser and into her active document. The bloodbath in her movie began to overshadow the chocolate-flavored recreation she had posted all over social media. She skimmed the last paragraph in the document, running her finger through the air over the words and mouthing the sentences silently as she read.

Even considering new classics like Final Destination and Saw, to crown the best bathroom scene in horror, we have to circle back to the beginning. Psycho is where it started, where the slasher genre itself started, and where this article has to end as well, she typed.

As she saved the full draft, a familiar message tone chimed from her chat application. She smiled, knowing who waited on the other side of the conversation, the same as every other night.

Oliver: What is the horror movie tonight?

Sidney: How do you know I’m watching a horror movie, stalker?

Oliver: You watch horror every night. Besides, I hacked your webcam.

Sidney: LOL! Like what you see?

Oliver: Always, beautiful.

Sidney smiled and bit her index finger between her teeth.

Oliver: You should come out here so I can show you how much I like it.

Sidney: There is nothing stopping you from coming out here.

Oliver: Only money.

Sidney: Likewise.

Oliver: One day I’ll come join you in that blood bath.

Sidney took a breath and caught her lip with her teeth.

Sidney: So you saw the picture.

Oliver: Of course I saw the picture! It’s already my home screen wallpaper.

Sidney: It is not! LOL

Oliver: It might be. It’s very sexy. Makes me want to lick all that blood off of you. Chocolate, right?

Sidney released her lip from her teeth as she grimaced.

Sidney: It is chocolate, but you don’t want any part of that. It tastes like Hershey’s and plastic. Disgusting.

Oliver: I would deal with it if I got to lick you.

Sidney grinned again and felt herself blushing in the glow of her laptop screen. As she typed with Oliver, she continued to scroll through comments—a blend of generic hot comments, menstruation jokes, and clickbait advertising. She tallied the reactions in her head. This picture had already attracted more attention than their previous photo. She shared some random horror memes, retweeted from her favorite followers, and commented on horror groups in Facebook. She marched through her evening routine.

As she processed the comments and emails from her website, another conversation notification rang.

Adam: Open my feed tonight . . . BAM! Bloody, naked Sidney!

Sidney: Is that a bad thing?

Adam: No, you look great. But wow.

Sidney: Thank you

Adam: Brave of you to put yourself out there like that.

Sidney: The internet is unforgiving.

Sidney continued to click away on her keyboard, shifting between conversations threads and social media platforms, until the movement of the doorknob snatched at her attention. Sidney looked up as her roommate swung the front door open. Kendra burst through in a wobbling heap of bags. Sidney sat up and set the laptop aside to get a better view.

“Hey roomie,” Sidney said, laughing. “What is all that?”

Kendra stumbled a few steps through the door to strip the bags from her shoulders, heaping them at her feet. Her wild mane of hair spiraled out from her head in fat curls, making her presence seem larger and farther reaching. Beneath the layered straps of the many bags, Sidney could make out the meticulous business-casual attire of Kendra’s work day, her badge plastered against her somewhere beneath the web.

“Oh, girl,” Kendra huffed, “don’t even ask. Kids. It’s kids.”

“But you don’t have your kid this week.”

“I know!”

Sidney laughed and heaved herself off the cushion. “Oh man, let me help you,” she said, reaching for one of the dangling sacks.

Kendra leaned into her assistance, sloughing the bag off into Sidney’s grasp. “Thank you,” she panted. “We’re doing Divorced Moms Club tonight. Hard. How much wine do we have?”

“One, maybe two.”

They abandoned the bags in a pile. Kendra navigated through the pile and stomped toward the kitchen. She rounded the counter and stopped, reaching forward to snatch up Sidney’s bottle cap between her fingertips. She lifted it toward her face and glared dramatically at it before shifting her eyes to Sidney. Sidney stifled a giggle, pressing her fingers to her lips, and stared back with feigned innocence.

“Really, Sid?” Kendra said, flicking the bottle cap at her. “Every time? Does it have to be every time? Just recycle the damn thing!”

“I was getting to that,” Sidney lied.

“You recycle the bottle. Why do you neglect the cap?”

“Because I have this amazing roommate who just lives to throw them at me. I couldn’t rob her of that.”

Kendra planted her fist on her hip as she jutted it out and rolled her eyes. “Anyway.” She flipped her hair over one shoulder, stubborn curls tumbling right back. “I don’t know if one or two bottles is enough. And you’re going to have to turn that horror shit off.”

“Fine, princess. It’s just the credits anyway. You’re safe.”

Kendra popped the cork on the first bottle with expert precision and overfilled two glasses.

“So, how was work?” Sidney asked, sipping deeply.

“Work was a whole other thing.” Kendra drank then moved toward the couch. Sidney followed and joined her. “Like, how hard is it to do your job? I swear my people work harder at not working than just doing the work.”

“Hard to be the boss lady.”

“Exhausting,” Kendra laughed, saluting Sidney with her glass. “Like, just do the damn job! Check the patients, fill out the paperwork, stock your cart. These are not the dumbest people. They can do this.” Kendra took a breath to take a sip. “Then all of Savannah’s shit had to move here tonight. It couldn’t wait until when she comes back over here in, like, forty-eight hours. So, I had to go over and see the ex and try to remind myself that I don’t want him anymore.”

“Which you totally do,” Sidney mumbled loudly into her glass.

“I do not!” Kendra shouted, playfully swatting at her then smiling broadly. She used her empty hand to tame her curls behind her shoulders, exposing the tasteful earrings hiding beneath. “But every time I go to that house, it stirs up all this shit in me, and then I pick a fight for no reason.”

“What did you pick a fight over this time?”

“The fact that Savannah’s room was messy.” Kendra averted her eyes into her glass as she answered.

“At his house?”

Kendra nodded as she drank.

“Kendra,” Sidney scolded.

“I know! I told you, going over there does something to me, messes with my head.”

“Because you still love him.”

“Girl, hush!”

Sidney reached forward and folded her laptop closed.

“How are the online boyfriends tonight?” Kendra said, sly in her subject change.

“I don’t have online boyfriends,” Sidney replied, sipping her wine.

“Sure, girl. What do you call them?”

“Friends. Just online friends.”

“You think I don’t see you when you’re over there typing away, blushing like a schoolgirl. That is not talking to just a friend.”

Sidney smiled guiltily into her glass. “Online flirtations then,” she said. “It’s not like I’m ever going to meet these guys, or sleep with them, or have some real relationship with them. Just some harmless chatting.”

“I wouldn’t say harmless. You never know what’s on the other side of the keyboard these days.”

“Well, I’ve been steadily talking to Oliver and Adam for months and months, one for over a year. That would be a pretty involved deception.”

“You know I always just say to be careful. You get it, girl. Between your online romances and little boy toy, you’re getting way more action than I am. The only action I’ve seen in ages is when my ex wants to do a friendly little relapse. And then pretend it never happened and we’re just divorced again. And then another little relapse. And then me going crazy in his house like an idiot.” Kendra sighed and rolled her eyes. “Get enough for both of us. Then maybe a little extra.”

Sidney laughed, heat swelling color into her cheeks. She pulled the wine onto her tongue to feel the acidity in the flavor bite at her taste buds.

“At least you can get along with your ex,” Sidney redirected, tensing her jaw. “Aiden and I can barely be close enough to exchange Cameron.”

“Is it better to not be able to quit your ex but also not be with him or to have your ex hate your guts?”

“They both sound pretty stupid,” Sidney said.

“That is why we have the Divorced Wives Club.”

Kendra raised her wine. The two clinked glasses then drank deeply. Kendra drained her wine and stood to fetch the bottle from the kitchen. Sidney felt her head swim a little and relaxed back into the impending buzz.

“All right,” Kendra said, topping off their glasses. “Put on some shit that won’t give me nightmares.”

“I am not watching reality TV.”

“No reality TV for you. No horror for me. We both know we meet in the middle at comedy. That is how this relationship works.”

“Ugh, fine,” Sidney laughed, “but not romantic comedy.”