My boyfriend called me a final girl

I took it as a compliment at first, but now he’s acting strange.

We had just finished watching The House of the Devil. He turned to me and said, “You’d definitely survive. Or you’d sacrifice yourself. But you’re definitely the final girl.”

I was flattered, to say the least. It was a huge compliment, especially coming from him. He’s a walking, talking horror encyclopedia.

But every day since he told me that, he’s been putting me through a series of what he calls “FGC.” The Final Girl Challenge.

It’s little things, like maybe he leaves the knife blade up in the dishwasher. I point the blade down, and he “accidentally” pushes me.

First phase passed.

Then he plugged my blow dryer in while I was in the shower and tossed it over the curtain. I caught it before it hit the water.

Phase 2 passed.

But the worst was when he cut my brakes. I caught it when backing out of the driveway. I had forgotten my phone, but when I pushed the pedal, I kept rolling. I pulled the emergency brake and got out.

There was brake fluid everywhere.

He says he’s just testing my resilience, preparing my survival skills for the inevitable.

Whatever that means.

Fortunately, I’m the final girl.

And this morning he said his cereal tasted funny.

...

My boyfriend had the shits for two days after I poisoned his cereal with liquid laxative.

“Truce?”

“No way, but, like I told you. You’ve got final girl spirit.”

"Okay, but if i'm the final girl, whats that make you?"

He contemplated for a moment.

“I’m the guy with all the answers. The one who gets everyone 80% through and then dies in some awesome, insane way.”

Things have only gotten worse.

Phase 4, 5, and 6 involved glass shards being placed next to my bedside.

He says it's to "keep me on my toes".

Phase 7 involved him locking me in the basement and timing how long it would take me to escape.

Did I mention he locked me in there with a feral raccoon and a baseball bat?

People in the comments say, “It’s not normal to stay when someone’s trying to kill you.”

Everyone’s normal varies.

And who’s to say this is the first time someone’s tried to kill me?

Whatever the case, I’ve decided to accept and embrace the FGC.

I just hope we don’t get too carried away.

...

Love is a crazy thing.

When me and my boyfriend first met, I was a barely sober, bruised and beaten reject. Unloved and hated by my own mother.

Now that I'm sitting in the middle of the ocean, I wonder, how much was I expecting him to save me from my old ways?

It's been two weeks since I lost myself in the FGC.

Fifty phases later, I had a broken shoulder, ten stitches above my eyebrow, and a chipped tooth behind a busted mouth.

The chipped tooth is what made me snap.

I never was one for sea sickness, but the knot in my stomach made me hurl into the water.

"You might not want to do that... sharks and vomit go together like Freddy and nightmares."

I don't know how he got out here, but there he was.

"You're passing all the phases with flying colors."

"Just stay back!"

"What are you doing out here anyway?"

"I'm trying to get away from you. You've taken this too far!"

"Me? You killed my fucking cat!"

About that...

His cat was like eighteen years old, and he had just busted my tooth with a bowling ball. I just needed to get his attention.

"You broke my fucking shoulder!"

"Technically... technically... you broke your own shoulder."

He was kind of right.

I had jumped out our second-story window after he chased me through the house with a chainsaw.

"I'm tired of this. I'm done. I want nothing to do with these stupid challenges anymore!"

"You think the final girl has a say? No. She has to endure. Persevere."

He stepped closer.

"I'm not a final girl!"

I lunged forward and shoved him overboard.

He made a puny splash, and I could hear him on the other side coughing up water.

I walked over to the edge of the boat.

"What's the point in all of this? Is this all just a game to you?"

My boyfriend's head bobbed in the soft waves.

"It's more than that. Before you came along... all those movies. All those final girls. They were just random faces. Now... I see you in them. You're powerful. Beautiful. And you don't even know it."

"Is that what this is all about? Some final girl fetish?"

He shook his head, a little black velvet box peeking out of the water.

"I thought, if she can survive this, then she can survive life with me."

He opened the box.

"I'm not the brightest guy. There isn't much I understand. But when I'd watch a slasher and see the one who survives. The one with all the grit and logical thinking... I always thought, that's the kind of girl I'd want to marry."

"Then you don't love me! You just love the trope!"

"Before you... it was a trope."

As sick and as twisted as this all was, my heart was fluttering.

"Will you be my final girl?"

He picked the ring out of the box, and I held my hand over the boat.

But when he tried to place the ring on my finger, his head ducked under water.

"Quit playing around!"

I reached my hands after him and felt the top of his head, grabbing him by the hair. He felt lighter than I expected.

And when I released him from the wet deep, it wasn't my boyfriend that came up.

Not all of him, anyway.

His head weighed like a bag of sand. It dropped like a heavy thump on the boat floor and rolled toward me.

I looked back over the edge and saw a gray pointed blade cut through the bloodied water.

My boyfriend's arm rose to the surface.

I reached for his fist and grabbed the ring, placing it on my finger.

I was his final girl.