They take a silent step towards me. In the last straining light of dusk, I notice something in their hand—something metallic. A knife. My stomach drops and fear clenches my core.
“This—this isn’t funny,” I yell, trying my best to mask the terror in my tone.
They chuckle, a low, slow sound full of sinister intent. It sends shivers skittering across my skin. When they speak, their voice is strange and distorted as if sent through some type of device.
“Scream for me, Prom Queen,” they command.
And I do.
I shriek and spin. Running as fast as I can towards the main road, I scream again and again for help. My footfalls echo off the brick walls around us as I desperately attempt to escape. I’m close, so close, when they grab me. Their fingers clasp around my sweater, pulling me backwards. I panic, flailing and fighting for freedom.
“Stay still, bitch,” they growl in my ear, their voice definitely distorted by some type of machine.
“Fuck you!” I growl as I throw my elbow backwards into their stomach. They let out a huff of pain and their grip loosens enough for me to slip away.
I step back just in time to see them rise back up to their full height. They raise the knife up and point it straight at me.
“I’m gonna carve that pretty face up, Scream Queen. Stain that fake-ass, white smile red with blood.”
They lunge at me, the knife gleaming in the low light of the quickly rising moon. I shriek, throwing up my hands. The knife pierces straight through the plastic of the dress bag I’m still holding, slicing my dress apart.
“What the fuck?!” I shout. “That was my prom dress, you psycho!”
They literally only had one single dress in this style, color, and size. I’ll never be able to find another. How fucking dare, they? Fury courses through me, replacing the fear from a moment before. I twist my hands, trapping the knife and their arm in a mess of tulle and plastic and sequins. And then I kick out. I shove the toe of my blackchunky boots into their shin as hard as I can.
“Fuck!” they scream out in pain, releasing the knife and folding in half in agony.
I take the opportunity to turn and run.
“Help! Help!” I scream as I race to the road. I see a car ahead—a red sports car. I know that car, it’s Sam’s car. “Sam! Sam!” I scream as loudly as I can, praying he’ll hear me.
“Get back here, Prom Queen!” the monster behind me roars. “I’m not done with you!”
My lungs are on fire, my side aches, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I run as fast as my feet can carry me.
“Sam!” I yell again as I get closer and closer to the opening at the end of this back side street and out to the main road. “Sam, help me!”
Twenty more feet. Ten more feet. Five. So close. So close.
“I’m going to slice you open and gut you like a pig, you fucking bitch,” they yell from behind me. They sound close, too close. I just need to get to Sam, to safety.
My feet fall on the sidewalk of the main road and I spin, turning the corner. Immediately, I run straight into a wall of muscle. My body crumbles and I collapse as I’ve run head-on into Sam’s waiting arms.
“Lacey,” he says as he wraps me tightly up, placing one hand in my hair and one on my back. “What’s wrong?”
“Sam,” I choke out between panting sobs and strangled breaths. “There’s someone there. They tried to kill me. They have a knife.”
I feel Sam immediately stiffen, before shoving me behind himprotectively. “Are you hurt?” he asks as he takes a cautious step towards the corner to the side street.
“No,” I reassure him. “I managed to get away. But we need to get out of here, Sam. Please!”
He takes another step forward and my heart rate ratchets up. Panic threatens to pull me under, and I prepare to run again as Sam peeks around the corner which I just came around.
“Lace,” he says to me as he stares down the side street. “There’s no one here.”
He turns back to look at me, his eyebrows shooting up. I glare at him in confusion.
“They were just there,” I shriek, stepping up to where he’s standing. “They tried to kill me. They were wearing a mask and—”
