Note: Imgflip hasn't been working for me. Good thing MBV's not too obscure.

Imagine the Miner feeling bad about how you got freaked out by a fresh corpse, so he decides to apologize by helping you wash off the blood.

Why do you seem so reluctant to be escorted to the showers? There’s no one else (living) here. And he’s not taking his miner gear off. Harry doesn’t want you to think he an ulterior motive. Why were you here, anyway?

Revenge was his main objective that night, but he’d been admiring you from afar a little. No valentine for ______ this year. At least, not until later. When the Miner had exacted his revenge, your affection was next. Everything about you was dulcet. Of course you’d make the perfect sweetheart. You were the sweetest thing in Valentine Bluffs.

So it shouldn’t surprise him if someone else had sunk their teeth into you. If they had, you’d been discreet about it. Good girl. If there was even anyone else in the picture.

Harry gazed upon your glum face. His pickaxe was lying maybe ten meters away. His hands (gloved) were upon your cheeks, not your neck. How he longed to caress them and kiss it! You clearly weren’t a target. That was the problem. Not one shot at your heart.

Well, the Miner thought as he removed a glove, revenge could wait.

The reverse V-sign caught you off guard.

“Victory?”

No. He moved his hand, the mask’s tube between his middle and index fingers.

“You want to…?”

Your secret admirer used his other hand to indicate it wasn’t just his tongue that wanted to make your acquaintance that evening.

“You want to take a shower first?”

At least he was kind enough to take you away from the hooked bodies. The Miner shook his head.

“You want me to take a shower first?”

Honestly, you looked pretty bathed in blood, but Harry really wanted to see you wet. And he would see you wet, if only you’d let him. Judging by the way your thighs rubbed together, you were getting there.

He tilted his head. Then shrugged before getting on his knees.

Note: I wish there were more Valentine-themed horror movies. With a lack of romantically inclined slashers, I take it upon myself to write them. 😘

Imagine the recently awoken Harry Warden stalling his spree to try to convince you to engage in some medical play.

Nursing did not prepare you for this much gore. Sure, grisly accidents and assaults happened, but a massacre… Nothing could prepare you for the aftermath of the Miner’s rage. All carried out by hand. Or whatever hospital equipment he had weaponized.

Warden lacked a surgeon’s precision. That much was clear, by the sight of your fellow nurse’s hollowed trunk. You assumed it was her heart Harry presented in an appropriately cardiac box.

If I survive, you figured, anything heart-shaped’s going to send mine into palpitations. But your training kicked in and you composed yourself before accepting the gift.

Warden’s hand reached for your stethoscope. Instead of wrapping around your neck, he placed it over his own heart. Without a word, you donned the ear pieces. Reports said the other miners were offed quickly. You suspected it was done in cold blood, but Harry’s heart was racing now.

Hand closing over the bell, he took your wrist. For a minute neither of you moved. His breath and heartbeat permeated the room. Then, Harry dropped the tubing.

Before you could react, a blood/ied rubber glove was snapped over your hand. He picked up its twin along with a speculum and thermometer in his other hand, presenting them to you.