The kitchen—the same steel appliances shine to perfection. Only now, it feels more clinical. The family warmth that made this house a home has vanished—turning it into a mausoleum.
Stopping before the refrigerator, I check the brand—same custom-made designer. The blood may be long gone, but the phantom smell of it drips invisibly down the ways, pooling at my feet.
“Why did you leave us to die, Tati?”
The question that haunts me is wielded as a weapon.
Why did you get to survive, and we had to die?”
Another whirring of the sword before it stabs me in the gut.
But like a coward, I try to outrun my demons—far and fast, I travel, and it must be muscle memory because when I stop, I’m outside my bedroom door. It creaks open and falls, thrusted by an invisible energy into that horrid night.
“Help, some people broke into the house with weapons, and they’re wearing Halloween masks,” Evander whispered, urging us closer to our freedom.
But freedom never came for five of my siblings and our parents.
The cries—the hallowed wails of lost innocence rattle inside my head.
With our path for escape cut off, Evander does what any big brother would do—he shoos us back to our rooms, instructing us to lock our doors and hide.
“Please hurry,” he pleads into the phone as we scamper. His last words before I hear pleadingsqueals blend into pained silence. Without checking, I know he’s dead.
Tiptoeing, I open the trundle drawer of my bed with just enough room for me to hide behind it.
I stiffen at the next scream, so tiny and scared—Leigh.
Move now, my mind fires off like a warning shot. And with blinding tears pouring like violent storms, I crawl behind the drawer, pulling in as much as I can to avoid giving my location away.
Shocked scream after shocked scream turns my blood to ice and my crying to uncontrollable sobbing. I hiccup as I gasp for enough air to fill my lungs. I know I’m quiet when I hear footsteps coming down the hall towards my room. I miss whatever is being said when they open the door. My heart’s pounding in my ears essentially makes their mumbles inaudible.
The room goes still, like a slow-motion scene in an action movie. The floorboard by the foot of my bed creaks, and I forget to breathe. My hands shoot up, covering my mouth, forcing it shut.
“She’s not fucking in here, Mikah.” I hear one of them call out. But I don’t have enough time to be shocked when a Ghostface mask appears.
“Gotcha,” someone else says as I’m yanked from under my bed.
“Thought you could get away, didn’t you, you fucking slut.”
Doubling in size, my eyes look on in shock at his vulgarity.
“We’re not allowed to swear in this house,” I hiss and internally high-five myself for saying it with such conviction.
The smack comes before I can even finish saying the damn word. It whips my body right, and I crumple to my plush rose pink carpet.
Shocking me still, I don’t even blink, but rage boils to a fever pitch. A feeling I haven’t had since I was told that my biological parents were missing.
“You can’t do that to me,” I screech, looking up at the Freddy Krueger masked idiot who slapped me.
My hands fly over my mouth, knowing I messed up and I was about to pay for it. All I can see is the shock in his eyes before they turn—wild with the thirst for death—my death. And suddenly, I know no one in this house is supposed to make it out alive.
His hand stretches out, grabbing me by my throat and shaking me in the air as he speaks. “I don’t know what hesees in you, you’re nothing special.”
He slams me on my mattress, face up, and tightens his grip around my neck. “You should feel lucky he marked you all as safe deaths because the things I’d do to this untouched virgin pussy until you’re dead, so I can really have some fun, are unimaginable.”
My skin crawls as the sharp tip of his finger nails trails down my chest.
“Cut it the fuck out, Fredrick, or I’ll gut you, then feed you your balls and intestines like spaghetti and meatballs before fucking you with a jackhammer.”
