Survive the Night by Riley Sager
EXT. ALLEY—NIGHT
Charlie staggers outside, trips, tumbles hard onto cold asphalt.
Before climbing to her feet, she peeks through the French doors into the ballroom she’s just vacated.
Marge isn’t inside.
The room is empty.
All the mirrors are intact.
A movie. Just like she thought.
But then Charlie stands, turns away from the ballroom, and her heart stops.
She’s outside, but it’s not the kind of outside she thought it would be.
Instead of in the lush woodlands that surround the lodge, Charlie finds herself outside the bar she was at the night Maddy was killed. It’s exactly the same, from the beer and puke smell outside to the Cure cover band inside.
And there, right in the middle of the alley, is Maddy, looking the way she did the last time Charlie saw her.
Standing with a dark figure.
Bathed in slanting white light.
Head lowered as she lights a cigarette.
This time, though, she casts a glance Charlie’s way, over the shadowy man’s shoulder, looking straight at her.
Then she smiles.
Such a glorious smile.
She could have been a star, Charlie knows. She had the looks for it. Her beauty was unconventional, incandescent—perfect for the big screen. But it was Maddy’s personality that would have sealed the deal. She was badgering and blunt, charming and chaotic. People who admired such traits—people like Charlie—would have adored her.
Now none of it will happen, and Charlie can’t help but feel sorry for those who missed out. Most of the world never got to experience Madeline Forrester.
But Charlie did.
She experienced it and loved it and misses it dearly.
“I’m sorry,” she says, even though she knows Maddy isn’t really there. Her appearance is just another movie in her mind. It doesn’t matter. Charlie still feels compelled to say it. The last words she wishes she had uttered when Maddy was still alive. “You weren’t an awful friend. I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean it. You were an amazing friend. You made me feel—”
“Alive?” Maddy says.
“Yes,” Charlie says.
And not just alive. In-a-movie alive, which is far superior in every way.
“I know,” Maddy says. “I’ve always known. Right until the end.”
The man standing with her remains frozen in time, still unknowable with his turned back, bowed head, hand cupped around the lighter’s flame. Charlie knows that even if she steps closer, like a director entering the frame, she won’t be able to see what he looks like. He’ll be a shadow no matter how close she gets.
So it’s Maddy she looks at, sparkling in the spotlight. She’s so bright that the shadowy figure in the fedora fades away. Darkness banished by light.
Maddy stands alone now, ridiculously tall in her high heels and clutching a Virginia Slim.
“Do you miss me?” she says.
Charlie nods, holding back a tear in the process. “Of course.”
“Then stay.”
Charlie would like that. If she could, she’d live in this movie for as long as possible. But she knows she can’t.
“You’re not real,” she says to Maddy. “You’re just a movie in my mind.”
“But isn’t that better than real life?”
“It is. But I need to live in the real world.”
“Even if it’s scary?” Maddy says.
“Especially if it’s scary.”
Right now, she needs complete knowledge of her surroundings. Not only where she is but who might be nearby.
Clarity.
That’s what the situation requires. Her life depends on it.
“But this might be the last time you ever see me,” Maddy says.
Charlie feels more tears coming. She keeps them at bay, determined to make this make-believe goodbye the complete opposite of the real-life version.
No anger.
No tears.
Only love and joy and appreciation.
“Then make it memorable,” she says.
Maddy strikes a pose, standing in profile, one hand on her hip, the other elegantly extended as the smoke curls from the cigarette between her fingers. It is, Charlie thinks, perfect.
“What a dump!” Maddy says.
Charlie smiles and closes her eyes, knowing that when she opens them, Maddy will be gone for good.
“I think I adore you,” she says.
