what’s your favorite scary movie?
synopsis: when katseye retreat to a secluded estate outside los angeles to rehearse for their upcoming tour, it’s supposed to be a private creative reset. as paranoia fractures the group, old tensions resurface.
warnings. 18+. graphic violence. stalking. home invasion. disturbing phone calls. blood & gore. major character injury. possible major character death. psychological manipulation. paranoia. betrayal. gaslighting. panic attacks. claustrophobic environments. mentions of past trauma. strong language.
ADÉLA hated the way quiet could sound loud.
Not the normal quiet of a bedroom at night.. soft fan hum, distant traffic, a neighbor’s TV bleeding through thin apartment walls. This was a different kind of quiet, the kind that sat on the back of your neck like a hand that didn’t belong to you. The kind that made the air feel heavier, like you had to push through it with every breath.
She paused in the hallway outside the studio room and listened anyway, even though she already knew what she’d hear.
No footsteps. No voices. No music. No reassuring proof that she wasn’t alone in a building that had been locked up for the night.
The fluorescent lights in the corridor buzzed faintly overhead, too bright and too cold, flattening everything into pale, colorless shapes. Her shadow spilled long and thin across the polished floor. It moved when she moved, and she tried not to think about how it looked like someone trailing her.
It was past midnight. she knew that because she’d checked her phone ten times in the last five minutes, the way you do when you’re suddenly convinced the time matters.
She adjusted the strap of her tote bag higher on her shoulder and told herself. out loud, because silence felt like consent, “You’re being dramatic. You’re just tired.”
The word dramatic tasted bitter, like she’d borrowed it from someone who never took her seriously.
ADÉLA reached into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around her keys, letting the metal bite into her skin. The trick her mom taught her, a half-joke that wasn’t really a joke: If you ever feel weird, make yourself sharp.
She walked the rest of the hallway and pushed open the heavy door leading into the main rehearsal studio. The room smelled like sweat that had been cleaned away too quickly.. citrus disinfectant on top of something human. The mirrors along one wall reflected her back at herself: a slim silhouette in a hoodie, hair pulled up, eyes wide in a way she didn’t like. Even her reflection looked like it was waiting for something to happen.
Her bag hit the floor with a soft thump. She crossed to the speaker station and checked the cable connections, more out of habit than necessity. Her mind kept looping on the same thought: I swear I turned everything off.
Because she’d been the last one to leave earlier. She remembered locking the studio cabinet, shutting the lights, double-checking the door. She remembered it clearly because she’d been annoyed about it. annoyed at being responsible, annoyed at being the one who always had to tidy up when everyone else ran off laughing.
So why had the building manager texted her an hour ago?
“Hey, Studio 3 lights are on. Can you check it?”
And why had the message included a photo that made her stomach tighten?
The photo was grainy. It showed the rehearsal studio from the hallway window. Lights blazing. A dark figure standing near the mirrors. too blurred to identify, but unmistakably there.
ADÉLA swallowed and made herself breathe through her nose. Slow. Controlled. Like she was about to go on stage. Like nerves were something you could choreograph out of your body.
She reached for the light switch and flicked it.
Nothing changed. The overhead lights were already on.
She stared up at them, then back at the mirrors. Her own face stared back. No dark figure. No movement behind her.
“Okay,” she said, voice thin. “So… someone was messing with the lights. Great. Amazing.”
She grabbed her bag and turned to go, already rehearsing how she’d laugh about this tomorrow. how she’d tell the girls, You’ll never guess what happened, and they’d roll their eyes and call her paranoid and then it would be fine.
The sound cut through the studio like a blade.
ADÉLA froze so hard her muscles hurt. The ringtone was normal. Nothing ominous. Some pop song she’d never bothered to change. But in that moment it sounded wrong. too loud, too cheerful, like a smile on a corpse.
She pulled the phone from her pocket and looked at the screen.
Her first instinct was to decline. Her thumb hovered.
Because it was late. Because the building manager could be calling from a different line. Because maybe this was the security company. Because maybe it’s nothing.
A beat of silence. Not dead air. she could hear something. A faint hiss, like distant static. A breath.
Then a voice, low and controlled, filtered like it was coming through something pressed over the mouthpiece.
Her skin prickled instantly. The way the voice said her name… softly, like it belonged in their mouth. made her feel exposed.
“Who is this?” she demanded, trying to sharpen her tone into something brave. She hated how it trembled at the edges anyway.
“I’m the reason you came back,” the voice said.
ADÉLA’s eyes snapped to the studio door. The hallway beyond it looked the same. Bright. Empty. Still.
She forced herself to keep talking. “If this is a joke—”
“I don’t joke,” the voice interrupted, calm and almost… patient. “But you do. You’re good at that. Laughing like nothing matters.”
Her throat tightened. She lowered her voice without realizing. “What do you want?”
A pause. Like the person on the other end was considering her. Measuring.
“I want to know,” the voice said, “if you remember what happened.”
Because there were a few things in her life she didn’t talk about. Things she kept folded and pressed flat inside herself. The kind of memory you don’t revisit unless you absolutely have to.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and hated how quick it came out. too defensive, too automatic.
The voice made a sound that might’ve been amusement. “Sure.”
ADÉLA’s grip tightened around her phone. “Stop Lara. This isn’t funny.”
“This isn’t Lara, and I already told you,” the voice murmured. “I don’t joke.”
Then, very softly, almost tenderly: “Turn around.”
For a moment she couldn’t. It felt like her body was refusing her mind. Like instinct had grabbed the steering wheel.
“What did you say?” she whispered.
“Turn around,” the voice repeated. “Look at the mirrors.”
ADÉLA’s eyes flicked to the mirrored wall even though her head stayed forward. The reflections multiplied her. Adéla in a hoodie, Adéla with her phone pressed to her ear, Adéla looking like someone waiting to be hit.
There was nothing else in the glass.
“No,” she said, voice breaking. “No—stop—”
“I can see you,” the voice said. “You look smaller when you’re alone.”
ADÉLA’s mouth went dry. “Where are you?”
The line crackled. A slow inhale on the other end, like the person was breathing her in through the phone.
ADÉLA’s heart slammed against her ribs. She forced her feet to move, one step toward the door, then another. Her bag strap slid down her shoulder. She didn’t care. She just wanted out of the studio, out of the building, out of this feeling.
“Adéla,” the voice said, suddenly sharper, like the patience had limits. “Don’t run. It makes it worse.”
The studio door was ten feet away. The exit hall beyond it, another thirty. She could make it. She could sprint. She could—
Her phone buzzed. A notification.
She didn’t look at it. She couldn’t. Her vision was narrowing, tunneling down to the door like it was the only real thing left.
Then the voice spoke again, almost conversational.
ADÉLA stumbled, then stopped, breath ragged. Against her better judgment.. against every warning sign screaming in her body. she glanced down at her screen.
It was the back of her head.
Her hoodie. Her hair tied up. Her shoulders tense.
The angle was wrong. too close, too low, like whoever took it was standing behind her, just out of view.
ADÉLA made a strangled sound that wasn’t quite a scream, because her lungs locked up in pure terror.
And this time, the mirrors didn’t only show her.
A figure stood several feet behind her, still as a statue. Tall. Masked. The mask wasn’t theatrical. It wasn’t exaggerated. It looked almost human. smooth and pale, expression fixed in a blank, patient stare.
ADÉLA’s scream finally broke loose.
Behind her, she heard the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps. unhurried, like the person knew she had nowhere to go.
She hit the door and yanked, but the handle didn’t budge.
Her fingers fumbled, searching for her keys, but her hands were shaking so hard she couldn’t grip anything properly. She glanced back over her shoulder.
Not rushing. Just closing the distance, one calm step at a time.
ADÉLA slammed her shoulder into the door, panic turning her movements sloppy. The phone was still at her ear. The call still connected. The voice still there, breathing softly like it was listening to a song.
“You should’ve stayed gone,” the voice whispered.
ADÉLA’s vision blurred with tears. She grabbed the metal chair near the speaker station and swung it wildly toward the mirrors, smashing glass. The crash was deafening. shards exploding, reflections splintering. For one heartbeat, the masked figure disappeared behind the shattered distortion.
She didn’t wait to see if it worked.
She ran toward the emergency exit at the far end of the studio, shoes skidding on the slick floor. The alarm bar was red, bright, promising escape. She hit it with both hands.
A chain. An extra lock. Something installed specifically to keep people from leaving.
“No,” she sobbed, voice cracking into something raw.
ADÉLA turned, back pressed to the door, chest heaving. She lifted the chair again like a shield even though her arms were already giving out.
The masked figure stepped into view, framed by the broken mirrors and the harsh lights. It didn’t flinch. It didn’t speak.
ADÉLA’s phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.
On the screen, still connected, the call timer kept ticking.
The voice, soft and satisfied, murmured:
Two days later, KATSEYE arrived at the estate like they were walking into a dream they hadn’t earned.
The van’s tires crunched over a long gravel drive that wound through tall, dark trees. The property was tucked back from the road so far that the city felt like a rumor. No neighbors close enough to see. No streetlights. Just dense woodland and the looming silhouette of a modern house built in sharp angles and glass.
It was beautiful in the way expensive things always were.. sleek, quiet, and completely uninterested in whether you felt safe inside it.
Sophia leaned forward between the front seats, eyes narrowed as she studied the gate behind them sliding shut.
“Why does it look like the kind of place you get murdered in,” she said, tone light but not entirely joking.
Daniela snorted. “Because you watch too much true crime.”
“I watch enough,” Sophia corrected, sitting back. “There’s a difference.”
Manon had one knee pulled up under her in the seat, chin resting on it, gaze drifting lazily over the trees. “It’s nice though,” she said, voice calm. “Peaceful.”
“Peaceful is exactly what people say right before—” Megan started.
“Don’t,” Lara cut in immediately, her voice quiet but firm, like she could shut down a thought just by naming it.
Megan blinked, lips twitching with the ghost of a smile. “I didn’t even finish.”
“And you won’t,” Lara said.
Yoonchae had been pressed against the window, watching the woods pass like she expected something to move between the trees. She turned, eyes wide. “Unnie… it’s really far.”
“That’s the point,” their manager had said earlier. “No distractions. No paparazzi. Just focus.”
But focus was a strange thing. You could tell yourself you wanted it, and still feel uneasy when you finally got it.
The van pulled up to the house and stopped. The driver got out first, opening the door with a practiced professionalism. The air outside felt colder than it should’ve. The sky was overcast, bruised gray, like it couldn’t commit to day or night.
The girls piled out one by one, stretching stiff limbs, rolling shoulders, adjusting bags.
Sophia stood at the bottom of the steps and looked up at the front of the house. Glass panels reflected the trees, making it hard to tell where the forest ended and the building began.
“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands once. “Rules. Nobody goes anywhere alone. We stay together. We lock doors. We—”
Daniela groaned. “Sophia.. This is rehearsal, not war.”
Sophia gave her a look that promised she wasn’t done being paranoid. “I’m just saying. It’s remote. Anything happens, we’re on our own for a while.”
Manon slung her bag over her shoulder and walked past with effortless grace. “Nothing’s going to happen,” she said, like she was speaking it into existence.
Megan lingered by the van, gaze drifting toward the tree line.
Something about the quiet out here made sound feel like a mistake.
A crow called somewhere deep in the woods. The sharpness of it made Yoonchae flinch.
Lara noticed and gently nudged her closer. “You okay?”
Yoonchae nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just… spooky.”
Daniela hooked an arm around Yoonchae’s shoulders in an exaggerated protective hug. “Don’t worry, Yoonchae. If a killer shows up, I’ll fight them.”
Sophia raised an eyebrow. “You’ll trip over your own shoes.”
“Lies,” Daniela said instantly. “I have athleticism.”
Megan, still staring at the trees, murmured, “We don’t know that.”
They laughed a little. Not too much. Just enough to break the tension.
Inside, the house was even more impressive! high ceilings, minimalist decor, pale wood floors that looked too clean to walk on. The living room opened into a wide space that had clearly been set up as a rehearsal area: mirrors installed along one wall, portable barres stacked neatly, a sound system waiting like it had been blessed.
There were bedrooms upstairs, each with a private bathroom. A kitchen stocked with food. A security system keypad by the door.
Sophia tested the keypad immediately.
“Code’s already set,” she said. “Manager texted it to me.”
“Of course she did,” Lara murmured, dropping her bag by the couch.
Manon wandered toward the windows. The glass looked out onto the woods like it wanted to invite the darkness inside.
She pressed her palm to the window and stared, expression unreadable.
Megan came to stand beside her.
“You feel it too?” Megan asked quietly.
Manon didn’t look at her. “Feel what?”
Megan’s eyes stayed on the forest. “Like we’re being watched.”
Manon’s lips curved slightly, but there wasn’t humor in it. “You always think that.”
Megan shrugged, like she couldn’t argue. “Sometimes I’m right.”
That first night, they tried to treat the estate like what it was supposed to be: a break. A reset.
They ordered food. They sprawled across the couches. They played music low and laughed at dumb videos on someone’s phone. Daniela attempted to cook something at midnight and nearly set off the smoke alarm, which made Sophia furious until she saw Yoonchae giggling so hard she had tears in her eyes.
“Okay,” Sophia sighed, giving up. “Fine. Whatever. Burn the house down. We’ll rehearse outside.”
Lara leaned back against the sofa arm, watching the others with soft eyes. She looked tired in a way she tried to hide.. tired from the constant movement, the constant being-on. Here, with no cameras, her shoulders loosened slightly.
Manon braided her hair absentmindedly, fingers moving like it calmed her.
Megan sat cross-legged on the rug, phone in her hand, scrolling but not really looking. Every so often, her gaze flicked toward the dark window.
Yoonchae fell asleep first, curled up with a blanket pulled to her chin, breathing slow and even. Daniela took a photo of her and whispered, “She looks like an angel,” like she couldn’t help being gentle sometimes.
Sophia finally stood and said, “Alright. Bed. Tomorrow we start early.”
They drifted upstairs in pairs and singles, sleepy and yawning, the house swallowing their footsteps.
Sophia locked the front door and checked the security keypad one more time before she went up.
The beep of it arming echoed a little too loudly in the empty downstairs.
Sophia woke at 3:12 AM because her phone buzzed.
She blinked into the darkness, confused, then reached for the screen.
A text in the groupchat.. one they only used for logistics and dumb memes:
UNKNOWN NUMBER added to chat.
Before she could type, another message appeared.
“don’t answer the phone.”
Sophia sat up so fast her sheets tangled around her legs. Her heart kicked hard, instantly awake.
She typed, hands trembling:
“how did you get in here?”
The typing bubble appeared.
Sophia’s blood went cold.
Because Adéla wasn’t with them.
Adéla, who had texted them two days ago, “long story but i’m staying off socials for a bit, love you, be safe.” Adéla.. who hadn’t answered calls since.
Sophia’s throat tightened around her own name. She forced herself to breathe.
Sophia’s eyes snapped to the window across her room.
The curtains were slightly open.
She stared at the gap like it was a mouth.
Then, slowly.. because something in her refused to move too fast. she swung her legs out of bed and crossed the room.
The floor was cold under her feet. She could hear her own heartbeat, loud as footsteps.
She pushed the curtain aside.
Outside, the woods were black, indistinct shapes layered on top of each other. The glass reflected her face faintly.
She leaned closer, trying to see—
A figure standing at the edge of the tree line.
Still. Upright. Watching.
Sophia’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Sophia backed away from the window so fast she bumped into the dresser. Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped the phone.
She didn’t think. She just moved. out of her room, down the hall, pounding on doors.
“Lara!” she hissed urgently, banging. “Lara, open up!”
A muffled groan. Footsteps. The door cracked open and Lara’s sleepy face appeared, brows pinched.
“Sophia?” Lara whispered. “What’s wrong?”
Sophia shoved her phone forward. “Look.”
Lara’s eyes tracked the screen. Her expression changed in increments.. confusion, then focus, then something darker settling behind her gaze.
“What the hell,” Lara breathed.
Sophia’s voice came out thin. “Someone’s outside.”
Lara didn’t ask if Sophia was sure. She didn’t dismiss it. She just straightened, fully awake now, and said, “Get the others.”
Sophia nodded, already moving.
The hallway became frantic, doors opening, lights clicking on, voices overlapping in sleepy irritation that turned to fear as Sophia’s shaking words landed.
Daniela came out first in a hoodie, hair wild. “What do you mean unknown number—”
Megan appeared in the doorway of her room, eerily calm, eyes already sharp. “I heard the banging.”
Manon stepped out behind her, face drawn tight. “What is happening?”
Yoonchae peeked out last, blanket still clutched around her like armor. “Why… why everyone awake?”
Sophia spoke quickly, words stumbling. “There’s a number in our chat. It told me not to answer the phone. It mentioned Adéla. It told me to look outside, and there’s.. there’s someone out there.”
Daniela scoffed automatically, like denial was her first weapon. “Okay. Okay. It’s probably a fan being weird. Or like—somebody messing with us.”
Megan’s voice was quiet. “How would a fan get the groupchat number?”
They moved as a unit down the stairs, careful but fast, the house suddenly unfamiliar in the dark.
Sophia’s hands were clammy as she reached the living room window. She pulled the curtain back.
Daniela exhaled sharply, half-laughing with relief. “See? Nothing.”
But Megan didn’t relax. She leaned closer, eyes scanning the shadows like she expected them to shift.
Manon’s voice was small. “Maybe it left.”
Sophia’s phone buzzed again.
“you’re already too late.”
Sophia’s thumb hovered, then tapped it open.
The image loaded slowly, like the phone itself was hesitant.
It was a photo of the inside of their house.
Not a stock photo. Not a blurry guess.
Their living room. Their couch. Their blanket on the floor where Yoonchae had been sleeping.
Taken from an angle that could only be achieved by someone standing inside the room, partially hidden behind the wall near the kitchen.
In the corner of the frame, barely visible—
Yoonchae made a small sound that broke something in Sophia’s chest.
Lara whispered, “Oh my god.”
Daniela backed up instinctively, eyes darting toward the kitchen like she expected someone to step out.
Megan’s face went very still.
Manon covered her mouth with her hand.
Sophia’s phone buzzed one more time.
“don’t answer the phone.”
The house phone on the kitchen counter began to ring.
The ringing filled the room like a scream that never took a breath.
Sophia’s voice came out broken. “We don’t even have a house phone.”
Lara swallowed hard. “We do now.”
Daniela’s hands curled into fists. “I’m not letting it ring. I’m not—”
Sophia grabbed her wrist. “No.”
Megan’s eyes stayed locked on the phone. “It wants us to.”
Manon’s breathing became shallow. “What do we do?”
Lara’s voice, when she spoke, was calm in the way only fear can sharpen you into. “We don’t touch it. We get the keys. We get in the van. We leave.”
Sophia nodded, relief flashing through her because it was a plan. “Yes. Yes. Okay. Everyone! shoes, bags, now.”
They scattered. fast footsteps, frantic movement.
Like it was laughing at them.
Sophia ran to the front door, fingers fumbling at the keypad. She punched in the code with shaking hands.
The keypad beeped… then flashed red.
Her breath caught. “Fuck.”
Lara appeared beside her. “Sophia.”
Sophia’s voice cracked. “The code isn’t working.”
Megan came up behind them, already reaching for the manual lock.
The deadbolt didn’t budge.
Megan’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes hardened. “It’s been locked from the outside.”
Daniela’s voice rose, panic beginning to fray her. “That’s not possible.”
“It is,” Megan said, and her calmness made it worse.
The house phone rang again.
Silence dropped so suddenly it felt like pressure.
For one heartbeat, it was quiet.
Then Sophia’s phone rang.
The screen lit up, bright and merciless.
Sophia’s hand shook so hard the phone almost slipped.
The ringing went on and on, like the person on the other end had all night.
Then, finally, it stopped.
A text appeared immediately after, like a reward.
Sophia’s stomach twisted.
Daniela muttered, “Oh my fucking god,” like she might actually throw up.
Lara’s jaw tightened. “We need another exit.”
Manon turned slowly, eyes scanning the wide glass doors leading to the backyard patio. “There.”
They moved as a group. no one even pretending to be brave alone now.
Megan reached the glass door first and grabbed the handle.
Cold night air spilled in.
For a split second, relief surged through Sophia so hard she nearly cried.
Then the motion lights outside clicked on.
And the backyard flooded with harsh white light.
Something stood in the center of the patio.
Head tilted slightly, as if curious.
Watching them like it had been waiting for the lights to come on.
Daniela’s hand flew to cover her mouth, but it was too late. The sound cracked through the night and vanished into the trees.
The figure didn’t flinch.
It lifted one hand.. slowly, deliberately, and in that hand was a phone.
It raised the phone to its ear like it was miming a call.
Like it was reminding them:
Sophia stumbled backward, terror punching the air from her lungs.
Lara’s voice came out like a command, sharp and absolute. “Close it.”
Megan slammed the glass door shut so hard it rattled.
The lock clicked automatically.
They stood there in a tight cluster, backs to the door, breathing hard, staring at each other like they’d entered a new world without warning.
Sophia looked at Lara, eyes shining with panic.
“What is this?” she whispered.
Lara’s face was pale. “A message.”
Megan’s voice, soft but certain, cut through the chaos.
“It knows Adéla,” she said. “And it knows us.”
Manon’s lips trembled. “Why?”
Sophia’s phone buzzed again.
a/n: I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT!! it’s my best work so enjoy until i make part 2 haha, follow for more
dividers by: @/bbyg4rlhelps
