Most people identify with the final girl. Not me. I connect with the gal who gets killed first, the first tipped domino. The one who never saw it coming. The girl who never had an opportunity to connect any dots. Just collateral damage. The expendable one. The proverbial canary in the coal mine. The girl wrapped in plastic and left on the side of the street, like a Xmas tree on January 2nd. Pretty but not beautiful enough. No romance. Just sex. The lost soul who “won’t last 15 minutes.” I’m the one who gets it when she goes to fetch your beer. The most creative kill in the movie. The subject of a Julee Cruise song. The murder that must be solved. The unsettled soul. I am the first blood spilled.