Kane’s POV
The credits roll on our third film of the night, a damn chick flick, i knew we’d end up here at some point no matter what Brandy said. Sure, she’s a horror fan, but after two slashers she meekly muttered about nightmares before finding a romcom.
In front of me our empty ice cream tubs rest on the coffee table next to a plate that holds the crumbs of two slices of cake that I got us just before our second serial killer of the night started going after a new family in a secluded ramshackle house on the edge of a creepy town that they just moved to. Our empty bottles of water are kept company with the mugs that I made us coffee in, and the pain killers are open after I practically forced Brandy to take some after half an hour of her trying to pretend she wasn’t in pain.
I glance
