It took an act of Sweet baby Jesus himself to get Cheryl to even think of coming to this party in the first place, and she had shown up fashionably late as she always had. Looking flawless in her sequined red cocktail dress, but that was neither here or there. Between the lackluster music choices and performances of people so drunk they could barely stand. Seriously,Ā If she had to hear one more person sing a bad Britney Spears song off key one more time, she was going to lose it. To the two-star (at best) food choices, Cheryl was on her way out of the door. She had barely, if at all, talked to anyone in the past seven years as it was, and this party was only confirming why she hadnāt.
Hearing the crack of the mic again, as someone else stepped on stage for another terrible round of songs, the red head sighed. āOkay, thats it...iām leaving. Toodles.ā she told whoever was standing near the bar, as she sat her empty martini glass down. Heels clicking across the floor as she made her way towards the exit and as she did so, in the split second, there was complete darkness.Ā āGuess daddy dearest didnāt pay the electric bill.ā she muttered to herself, probably still loud enough for anyone around her to hear. But then the Lodge shook and Cheryl froze in place as she heard the explosion outside.Ā āWhat the hell was that? I didnāt leave Thornhill to come to some weird cabin in the woods murder mystery party for Hobo and his bride to play detective on.ā
