My heart begins to slam hard into my ribs. My breath comes in short and quick gasps.
“Hello?” I shakingly call out. At this point, I’m certain someone is trying to fuck with me. Maybe it’s Sam. It wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe he wants me scared, so he can hunt me. Chase me. To then fuck me.
I straighten myself as I rise to my feet. “Sam?”
No answer.
I’m really trying not to panic, but I can feel it settling in my bones, sending shivers through me. Something is wrong. Then the woods explode into a commotion, and before I get a chance to move, Nicole bursts out the treeline like she just saw a ghost.
“Nicole?”
I inch forward, only to see her sway, her skin tight black dress shimmering like she’s wet. My eyes roam over her, taking in her disheveled look. Her face looks dirty, her big, fluffy hair is all matted. “Nicole?”
Finally, she snaps out her panicked daze and meets my gaze, stepping into the moonlight. I see that she’s not wet, she’s fucking bleeding. Her hand is tightly wrapped around her neck, and the other moves to her lips. A silent motion to stay quiet.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Steps grow closer. Nicole takes off towards me, her hand firmly on her neck with each move. I should meet her halfway at least but I’m scared to move. She trips, quickly catching herself and continuing to move. She’s so close. I can see the fear in her eyes for just a second. Wide, wild, and pleading.
“NICOLE!” I scream, not being able to contain myself when a masked figure emerges from the trees, moving with a ferocity and precision that stuns me into silence. They’re cloaked in all black, making them blend into the shadows of the night. But their face iscovered in a mask—a pig. A grotesque depiction of a bloody swine. I recognize the mask, it’s the same the boys wear to scare us. That means this person is…one of us. The figure raises something into the air, and a glint of silver shines, even in darkness.
“H—” Nicole chokes when she tries to speak, falling over to the ground. Using her hands to catch her fall, she looks up at me, and that’s when I notice the wide gash across her neck and the crimson that flows steadily down her lean neck. She reaches for me with a bloody hand, and more garbled sounds escape her lips. And all I can do is inch further away from her.
Away from the knife, the mask, the murderer.
“I’m so sorry,” I mouth to her when the masked figure grabs her from behind. Their hand tangles into her wild locks, and in one forceful movement, they yank her up, causing the flesh to peel from her neck as the strain of her bent position causes the wound to open further. Blood spews from the gaping wound, painting her in red.
I press my hands against my mouth trying my best to stifle the sob. When the figure brings down the knife into her chest, Nicole screams, one last sound. It’s wet and garbled.
What happens next is what you call an overkill.
They don’t stop.
The figure strikes one… two… three … four times. Maybe more. I lose count as I’m too focused on the way her body jerks before it goes slack. Blood darkens the ground beneath them. I force myself to breathe and, more importantly, to turn and run.
My legs pump harder and harder. My lungs burn from the cold air moving against them. But I keep fucking running. The lights get closer and closer with every step. Just a little further. I’m so close. So very close.
And then I hear it.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
They’re coming for me.
“Help!” I scream with all my might as I run. I doubt anyone will hear me over the blaring bass but I need to try.
I don’t turn, don’t falter, don’t stop. I run for my fucking life. I run until the smell of smoke and liquor pricks my nose, until the lights of the house guide my path, until I’m close enough to the others.
Safety in numbers.
