#scream inspired

With your back propped up against the heavy wooden door, music boomed from inside, penetrating the thick oak slab behind your head, yet your mind was caught in a thick fog. The night air was cool, your breath and smoke mingling in the frigidity around you. For once, you weren’t overthinking how you looked or dissecting a conversation you just had. For a brief few minutes, you had true calm descend over you in the form of cold evening air and invigorating substances in smokable form. That is, until the door swung open, sending you hurtling into two veined arms that quickly righted you upright and encapsulated your torso. 

“Jesus…shit…you scared me…”

Your asshole of a boyfriend simply laughed, a rumbling display of amusement spurred on by your skittish reaction. He simply nuzzled his chin into your neck, huffing in delight against the delicate skin and inhaling a nosefull of your scent.

“What's the matter, baby? You look like you've seen a ghost..”

“Aem, quit it, you know I'm normally not scared so easily” you scowled, your face painted with fake displeasure. Though you couldn’t help but squeal as his hands wandered your sides, hitting every ticklish spot on their way, breaking your face into unrestrained smiles. Aemond was always incredibly handsy, though as touch starved as you were, you never complained. You loved getting attention from the prettiest man you’d ever encountered, you felt blessed to have his hands roaming your flesh, his good eye trained on you and only you.

You'd only been together a few months, and though the relationship was relatively fresh, you'd fallen…hard.  

Aemond was unconventionally attractive. His face, though it looked like it had been carved from pale white marble, was marred by blanched pink scars, which spanned the length of his right cheek. One eye had been damaged in an accident as a kid, so in its place sat a prosthetic painted in the most dazzling shade of sapphire blue. Somehow, it only added to his ethereal nature, never detracting from his unusual beauty. That, alongside an entirely black wardrobe consisting mostly of band shirts and leather, complimented his stunning features. He was a man of great contrast, his look most striking, while his personality was more reserved. He was the most captivating, yet troubled young man you'd ever laid eyes on, and you couldn't help but fall face first into quite an intense entanglement after being introduced. 

Aemond was always the most attentive partner, always paying heed to even the smallest details. He noticed things most boyfriends would completely ignore: changes in your expression & body language, slight shifts in your mood, and he always anticipated your needs before you’d even have to ask. When you were around friends, Aemond’s hands stayed connected to your skin at all times, holding your hand, tracing delicate patterns against the back of your palm, or running his spindly fingers along the column of your neck. His eye would always be on you, following you around the room. In private, he was even more impassioned. He loved feeling your body pressed against him, the warmth of your flesh against his own. Instead of psychoanalysing these slightly possessive traits, you leaned into them, rivalling his intensity with your own eccentricities. You were a rather odd, but well balanced match. 

On this night, as you stood in the dark, your face only highlighted by the glow of your cigarette, Aemond took advantage of the privacy the shadows afforded and peppered your neck with kisses, pulling you tightly against his chest as you stood resolutely, facing into the black night. You loved how needy he was, but also domineering in equal measure. He never used those sculpted muscles against you, except to further your pleasure, to satisfy you in every way you desired. And now he cuddled you against the cold, sheltered you from the chilled wind blowing through the trees. “It’s such a nice night out…you thirsty baby?” his warm breath vibrated against your skin. He extended a hand out, a chilled beer bottle grasped between several graceful fingers. Even the sight of them made you shiver, though that could’ve also been the bitter breeze swirling around your ankles. “Thank Aem, I'm parched.” You happily snatched the slim bottle from his hands, your fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary against his digits, which earned a smirk, the corners of his mouth turning upwards as the fermented amber liquid ran down your throat. The familiar quenching of thirst came with a promise in itself, you could see the hints of mischief present in his smile. 

In return for his generosity, you extended a frigid hand, the end of your cigarette blooming between your dainty fingers. He didn’t even need to say anything; instead, Aemond leaned down, wrapping his plump lips around the thin paper. One sharp inhale and his body filled with an addicting sense of elation, one he sought out in other avenues of life. He found it touching your body, pulling you close, and feeling each curve and valley of your perfectly sculpted frame under his fingertips. He found it in coaxing those pretty mewls from your lips, a soundtrack he’d gladly play on repeat. Yet there was always the pull towards something darker, something a little more… taboo. 

As he stood with you in that doorway, the swell of your arse pressed against his quickly growing bulge, Aemond realised that the evidence of his other, perhaps more niche hobbies lay only inches away, neatly tucked around the shadowy corner. 

It was only sheer luck that you hadn’t noticed a pool of sticky crimson blood inching across the damp mud, crawling towards your feet - but the night had long descended, the sun had fallen from the sky, replaced by the heavy blackness of an autumn night. The dark provided cover for his lurid savagery, shrouding the horrors from your sight. 

With one drag, Aemond filled his lungs with the delicious sting of nicotine. There was only one languid last puff left, one draw of the bitter nectar he so often craved. With a sharp exhale into the night, he dropped the butt of the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out, the heel of his shoe squelching the dying embers into the damp earth. Not too far away, the mud was stained red with blood, a pool slowly forming beneath the corpse of a man who dared lay his beady eyes on you across a packed dancefloor earlier that same night. 

Warm hands kept you pressed to his chest, pulled close to a heart beating softly beneath leather clad skin. In that darkened doorway with the man of your dreams hanging on your every breath, you found yourself smiling like an idiot. Your eyes were drawn to the curve of Aemond’s mouth as it encased the last of your cigarette. You marvelled at the swell of his cheeks as he billowed smoke into the crisp night air. He always stole your focus, captured your attention simply by existing. You were utterly entranced by his sharp, angular features. Such beauty in a man was rare, but he had both softness and a sharp edge, a traditional pretty boy look laced with danger and the added oddity of his disfigurements. He somehow appeared angelic and devilish in equal measure, an enigma wrapped in the most beautiful packaging. And as he held you against the frigid wind, the darkness encroaching on your romantic moment, you couldn't help but be completely taken with the man you called yours once more. 

Yet the wind brought with it a certain anxiety, a subtle foreboding that settled in your mind. As he crushed the remains of your cigarette under his boot and pulled you tightly into his arms, sandwiching your body between his hardened chest and the wall, you utterly fell to his wiles, melting like butter under his smoldering gaze. You couldn't help but see a glint of mischief in that unyielding stare. As if he had a plan you were not yet privy to, but it was wrapped in warmth, in a certain affection that you sought out in every room.

Before long, strong hands dragged you from the chill of night and guided you back into a sea of drunken bodies, each one swaying to their own rhythm, some with the music, some following a tempo of their own design. Each one moved like a branch in the breeze. The intoxicating scent of liquor billowed from inebriated lungs, mouths that messily combined on the dance floor, swapping saliva and the lingering traces of whatever they'd been drinking. Bodies undulated like the tide, a swell of flesh to music, yet even that couldn't distract you from those dazzlingly blue eyes piercing into your flesh as his searing grip held on and led you across the crowded room. The atmosphere numbed any unease in your mind, the sense of frivolity and joy contagious. Even under the haze of alcohol, you felt Aemond’s eyes trained on you as he walked you through a sea of drunkards. Never once did you suspect distrust in your relationship, yet he kept his eyes on you as if you’d disappear into the night. 

Instead of allowing you to wander into the haze of debauchery that surrounded you both, Aemond pulled you flush to him, and began to sway along with the other bodies in the pool. 

His hands wandered to your hips, feeling in the dark for anywhere he could grasp onto. Moving in tandem with the pulsing rhythm, his hips were pinned against your own, undulating in time with one another. You allowed your mind to go blank, to exist solely in the moment with Aemond, his eyes as hypnotising as the thrumming beat over the speakers, the swell of want between his legs enough to send waves of desire through your body. It was almost intoxicating, surrendering to the music and the feeling of uninhibited bodies around you. It was a certain type of freedom, a complete departure from your regular life. 

It took a while for people in their drunken stupor to notice that someone was missing, and inebriated people eventually tottered around the room in search of a man who’d never walk through those doors again. Aemond noticed the commotion, yet remained cool and collected, instead channeling his focus towards you, as your body mirrored the mindless drones around you, swaying in time with the music. He was never one to dance, usually opting to prop up the wall with a beer in hand instead, but he'd follow you anywhere, would do anything you asked. That included grinding on the dancefloor to the dulcet tones of ‘Don't Fear the Reaper’, well lubricated by several shots of whiskey beforehand. You'd have never realised that he also had an ulterior motive for his compliance. Participating in such a charade was a small price to pay, to keep certain secrets hidden. 

It took several more minutes for you to notice the panicked faces wandering around the dance floor, yet the gravity of the situation didn't quite register, your mind had been swallowed by lust and alcohol. Lipsticked lips sloppily met Aemond’s warm cheek and you hurriedly dragged him by the hand over to a group where his sister had been standing. The music rumbled on, though you leaned into Helaena’s shoulder, whispering into her ear. “Hel, what's going on?”

Helaena shrugged, clearly too lost in her drink to comprehend the situation. “It's really weird, isn't it, to think this fuss is all because of you?”

You loved the bones of her, but she was scattered at the best of times, let alone when she had imbibed on her favourite beverages. Sometimes she simply made no sense and spoke words into the ether without any context at all. “I love you, Hel, but you make no sense sometimes..” you laughed, before returning to Aemond and snuggling into his waiting arms.

Gossip made its way around the room - unfounded words swirling in the mouths of drunk people like the ice clinking in their cups. Young men had been going missing in your neighbourhood the last few months, some turning up disfigured, some slashed and beaten beyond recognition. But all undeniably dead. It was enough to strike fear into the coldest of hearts, and Aemond hadn't left you out of his sight since. You found it strange, some names you’d even recognised, but they weren’t close friends, only people you’d encountered in passing. Friends of friends, faces you'd have recognised in social situations like tonight. A strange sense of foreboding settled in your gut, but the alcohol numbed any immediate reaction to the chatter, dulling your usually acute intuition. 

Still, the atmosphere inside had changed, and despite something gnawing at your mind, a subtle warning sign that you pushed to the side, your immediate desires took control, and you pulled Aemond upstairs. To your chagrin, the bedrooms were already occupied, so you headed outside, perhaps the dark would shield you from prying eyes. It seemed Aemond had the same thought, his voice carrying above the din of some cheesy rock song, “Wanna play a game?” and he nodded in the direction of the back door, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. 

Out in the dark with Aemond, despite the stinging chill in the air, you couldn’t keep your hands off him. The night provided adequate cover for your lewd activities, though at any moment someone could walk through the door and catch you in the act. Somehow, the danger made your boyfriend that much hotter, his perfectly sculpted body that much more irresistible. Only the stars were witnesses to your ravenous appetite, to the dip of your tongue into the warm caverns of Aemond’s mouth, exploring each other as if it were the first time. Those twinkling lights saw every grinding thrust of hips and wandering palm, searching for friction against a willing body. 

The heat of his breath stung like frostbite, while the wind nipped at your cheek. Yet you only leaned into his warmth, you soaked up every ounce of affection this beautiful man bestowed upon you. You never imagined feeling so wanted, so seen. Aemond always made you feel like the only woman in his life, the only one he saw. His hands carved a path through skin, warm fingertips frantically grasping at flesh as if you’d soon disappear into the night, vanish like a puff of smoke beneath frenzied fingers. 

He was always passionate, desperate to have you close, but in the biting darkness, he seemed more frenzied, less controlled than you’d seen him before, as if a fire burned within him that couldn’t be quenched. Or perhaps it was the whiskey. Either way, he was insatiable. His movements were messy, frantic. Plump lips captured yours in an impassioned embrace, your back braced against the pebbledashed wall of the house, the embers of the party slowly dying inside. Aemond’s fire roared brightly, the flames of passion swelling in his eyes.

You moved in tandem in a messy celebration of limbs and spit, neither one of you cognisant of your surroundings, both oblivious to the position of your feet as you danced in passionate unison. Your steps were clumsy as Aemond flung you from wall to wall, your back taking the brunt of his zealous maneuvers. He was a man possessed by desire, but there was something far darker driving his insatiable lust, something you’d very quickly be confronted with, face to face.

In a whirlwind of tangled limbs and blundering footsteps, you managed to lose your footing and your grip on your boyfriend's muscular frame somehow. You stumbled in the dark, losing your balance over something dense on the ground. Tumbling forwards without anything to grip onto, your knees immediately hit the damp earth, taking the brunt of the fall. They squelched into some wet mud, no doubt ruining your favourite dress, but other than that, only your pride was hurt. It was only when you stood up and inspected your hands under the dim flickering light over the back door that you realised it was more than mud; it was thick and sticky, coagulated into revolting globules. 

Under the warm, fading light of a lone bulb, you saw your hands covered in a deep crimson substance, which you quickly recognised as blood - even under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol. It wasn’t an illusion, your mind wasn’t playing tricks. It dripped from your fingers into the earth below your feet, staining the ground as it fell. You cast your gaze towards the object that hindered your steps in the dark, and immediately noticed a pale hand dislodged from the mess of grass and sodden muck. Earth encrusted digits led your eyes towards a face, ghostly and drained of life, smothered and half-buried in the damp soil. Two vacant eyes stared into the night, their colour leeched from their place, a result of a throat slashed, and left to drain the contents of his body into the earth below. His body had been mercilessly butchered, cast aside into the mud, and left to rot under the watchful gaze of the moon. Left to the elements, as if nothing more than rubbish. Though you didn’t recognise his face, reality quickly set in.

A blood-curdling scream bubbled up from your lungs, spurting from two kiss-swollen lips, before being quickly silenced by a large hand. The sound didn’t even get the chance to echo into the night before the man you loved grabbed you and gripped your skin so hard it was sure to bruise. Aemond had wrapped himself around you again, one hand clasped around your mouth, the other holding your waist tight. “Shh,” he hissed in your ear, as if the shock would subside on command, as if you'd not just stumbled across a fucking dead body at a party. What was his name? His face looked familiar, but so pallid and pale, with his skin reflecting the bitter chill of death, you couldn't quite tell who it belonged to.

“Sshhhhh…I couldn’t just let his eyes defile you, I had to teach him a lesson...see” he teased, while sniffing at your neck. The hand around your mouth directed your gaze downwards once more, as if looking upon the icy cold flesh of a dead man once wasn’t enough. No, you were forced to look upon a man you scarcely knew, but who had the audacity to look in your direction just a minute too long for Aemond’s liking. You wriggled under his grasp, desperate to run away, to find an escape from his clutches. “That's insane, why? Why would you kill him for simply looking at me? You know I only have eyes for you, Aem, but this…this is nuts..”

“You belong to me,” he murmured, the words serving as both a promise and a sure threat. “And I do. not. share.” His voice rumbled against your skin, vibrating through your bones and settling deep within you. Those words, staccato against the cold night air, each consonant emphasised, would be imprinted in your psyche, committed to memory in flesh…if you survived the night that is. His eyes sparkled with something close to amusement. You’d never seen this side of your boyfriend before, a whole new person emerged from behind those eyes. One who relished in danger, who delighted in inflicting fear. He revelled in the terror he caused, drank in every drop of panic pouring from your face. It seemed a switch had flipped in Aemond, where once was Jekyll, now shone Hyde. He’d become the monster, the bump in the night. Where once lay affection, deep seated and genuine, his eyes now only reflected his delight in your terror. They were devoid of any true emotion, any connection you once shared, if you indeed ever did, was now replaced by sheer derision and ridicule. 

“I will make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

Every word emphasised by sharp sibilance, every consonant harsh and unexpectedly aggressive. You loved Aemond’s voice once, only minutes earlier infact, each rumbling low note and how he could command with such minimal effort. Yet with one sentence, he managed to erase any trace of love, and instead instill fear; chilling you to the bone with words alone, whispered into the crisp night air. Despite the chill running through your veins, nipping at your skin and drawing goosebumps to the surface of your flesh at Aemond’s cold glare, and despite the corpse lying mere inches from your feet, that one line was enough to stir something within you.

The thought of Aemond taking you in the open air, claiming your body with cold steel pressed against your skin, although wicked and slightly deranged, forced a need you never knew you had to the forefront of your mind. Perhaps deep down, you always knew who he was, perhaps you liked his possessive nature, his forceful and domineering personality. As reserved and well tempered as he was, it always lingered just beneath the surface, waiting to rear its head. Something in his voice let you know he meant it, let you know that you weren’t getting out of this house without him utterly claiming you, flesh and bone. 

The rest of the world melted away as he pulled you closer, constricting his arms around your chest like a python. The party slipped into the darkness, clouded by dizziness and fear. All you could hear was the sound of your breath, as it was squeezed from your lungs, right before Aemond released his grip and allowed you to draw air once more. It was all a game, your life a frivolity. Even still, you couldn’t help but let arousal wash over you. Arousal mixed with fear proved to be an intoxicating combination, a drug you had never experienced before. 

Seeing that glimmer, that faint light in your eyes as he laid claim to your body, Aemond was emboldened to push onwards, to find his pleasure in a body willing, pliable, and waiting in his grip. Yet he needed to know just how far he could push, just how much he could take from you before you’d recoil in disgust. He needed to know just how far he could push you before you’d break. Delving one hand slowly into his jacket pocket, Aemond withdrew a knife, its handle settling into the curve of his deft hand. Even in the dying light, its blade danced and glittered, shining menacingly against the blackness. Your eyes widened, yet you didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe against the shining silver he drew to your pale flesh. 

With a sharp knife to the throat, the steel pressing against your delicate flesh, you trembled beneath its pointed blade. Aemond tested your mettle, pressing it hard enough to break the skin and draw a minuscule drop of blood to the blade. A hiss escaped your lips, swallowed quickly by Aemond’s plump mouth. No sooner had you made a sound, he wrapped his pouting lips around yours, taking his pleasure from your pain. He’d never given you cause to be afraid before, but now, with hardened steel slicing at your throat, and a sparkle you’d never seen before gracing his natural eye, Aemond looked every bit the villain. “I never took you for a sadist…but you seem to be enjoying this a little too much..”

“There's a lot you don't know about me, darling.” he whispered, a menacing smirk creasing the pale skin of his perfectly chiselled face. Despite the hairs at the back of your neck standing on edge, and your nervous system all of a sudden plunged into a state of fight or flight, you couldn’t help but succumb to the wiles of this perfectly handsome man. Even with his flaws and his newfound savagery, your body ached to feel him, to feel his warmth and that deliciously familiar sting as he ravaged your body.

The driving bassline of ‘Psycho Killer’ thumped through the brick walls, a fitting soundtrack for Aemond’s mindless ravaging of your helpless frame. There was nothing you could do to stop him in this moment, nothing you could do to escape…but if you were truthful with yourself, you really didn’t want to. Even with fear licking at the edges, your nerves pulsing in time with the groovy bassline thundering through the concrete walls, you abandoned all reasonable judgement in favour of potential pleasure. You lapped up his undivided attention, his utterly deranged attempts at securing your affections. And no matter how much your mind sought to escape his greedy clutches, how desperately a rational part of you wanted to flee, another part of you craved Aemond’s touch, no matter the circumstances, no matter how grim your surroundings may have been. Your body instinctively knew how crazy he was for you, how deeply he craved the comfort of your flesh, and how he’d kill to keep you all to himself. A part of you loved it; a voice that sounded when his hands roamed your body, all controlling and all enveloping. And now it was that part of you that drove you further into his embrace, that relinquished control of your flesh to his greedy hands. As you closed your eyes and shut the world out, you could only feel his slender fingers worshipping your body, every touch a prayer to your depraved soul. They traced a path through your skin, gripping at every inch as if his hands could strip it from your bones. It wasn’t long before you felt the evidence of his appetite pulsing against you, a thick bulge caressing your abdomen, searching for friction and warmth, searching for its target.

In a flurry of raw passion and craze-fuelled lust, Aemond’s hands flew to your head, grasping your hair at the root and tugging at it until your scalp throbbed; an undeniable stinging sensation that forced you to do its bidding. He pushed you down, your knees once more hitting the blood sodden earth. Once again, your eyes fell on the dead body lying only inches from you, yet Aemond forced your eyes upwards, tugging at your hair until he had your undivided attention. 

It was obvious what he wanted, and he knew just how to make you squirm while getting it. Before long, his cock had sprung free of its tight denim prison and hung heavy before your face. 

You could never quite grasp how well endowed he was for a petite man. It seemed so disproportionate to his body, yet you never once complained, except for the moments in that initial intrusion of course. The crisp night air nipped at the delicate skin. It was this cold air that only intensified the pleasure when your lips wrapped around his shaft, when the warmth of your mouth enveloped his cock, drawing him into your throat as far as you were physically able. His hips immediately chased a rhythm which mirrored the music from the other side of the wall, pistoning relentlessly, pounding your throat, causing you to gag and choke around him. There was no time to tease, no time to accommodate his size in your throat. Yet he didn’t let you move. His fingers flexed at your scalp, coaxing your mouth deeper still. The pain prickled, a sharp stinging sensation, yet it was dulled by the force of his merciless thrusts. His hips kept up an unforgiving pace, chasing a release that all too quickly approached. 

Before long, your throat was painted by his unending supply of semen, as unrelenting and demanding as the tempo of his hips against your jaw. You greedily swallowed each and every drop, milking his cock with hollowed cheeks. He was stunned at your veracious appetite for his cum, the haze of orgasm washing heavily over his tired eyes, yet you kept up your enthusiastic pursuits. Even after release, Aemond stayed rock hard. His solid phallus throbbed in your mouth, veins pulsating against the muscle of your tongue even as he pulled out and let it rest on the tip, the protruding vasculature quivering against the warmth of your lips. The thought of ruining your cunt as one of his victims lay alongside you had him ready almost immediately, every inch of his body thrumming at the prospect. To see the woman he craved and the man he so furiously butchered laying side by side became part of the fantasy, part of the game. 

The fear present in your eyes, mixed with a shameful desire for what he had to offer only spurred his arousal, the war raging in your mind between sheer terror and a desire for absolute pleasure evident in tear-stained eyelids. Your mascara had run down your cheeks, painting your face as it fell. Aemond admired his work, yet he was only getting started. His desire to ruin you, to take exactly what he wanted from your pretty cunt and have you fall apart around him was titillating. 

For months, he watched you play the part of the dutiful girlfriend, yet you entertained lustful stares from random men. Holding their leering gazes across a room. It was a shame, but he simply had to punish you, to mark you as his own. If you didn't submit, if you wouldn't behave…well..Killing you was never part of the plan, but his blade was thirsty, and brats must be shown the error of their ways. Perhaps he'd show some mercy if you were good.

His hands remained interwoven with your scalp, fingers tugging at the roots tightly to keep you in line. The sting provided a sharp reminder that your boyfriend had in fact killed a man, who laid face down in the dirt only inches from your feet. Yet you couldn’t help the heat of arousal building with every tug. As Aemond dragged you from your knees to your feet, pulling you tight to his chest before spinning you around and pinning you against the wall, the coil in your core grew increasingly tight. He didn’t even have to fuck you to make you a quivering mess beneath him. Any trace of fear left seemed to leak down your leg with evidence of your arousal. Your face grazed the pebbledash finish on the side of the house, but it wasn’t long before he forcefully arched your back, pulling your head backwards by the hair and pressing your cunt against his tumescent cock. He didn’t even need to undress you; he had easy access once your panties were pushed aside. Aemond loved it when you wore such short dresses; he fantasised about moments like this. Your underwear was sodden, you didn’t even need to be touched to be ready for Aemond’s intrusion into your body. “Hm,” he snickered, that knowing smirk plastered firmly onto his chiselled face. It was amusement, laced with derision and mocking, something completely foreign to your ears from a man you only knew as loving, though truthfully, you had clearly ignored many aspects of his personality, perhaps you saw it and ignored it in favour of his more amorous qualities. Desire can cloud judgement, and you’d definitely misjudged Aemond. 

He took full advantage of the ample lubrication. Nudging the folds of your cunt with his spongey pink tip, he tilted his hips and found the right angle so that he could easily plough into you with devastating effect. In one swift motion, Aemond speared your cunt with his impressively thick cock. Another ear-splitting scream left your lips, this time caused by the force of being impaled by your boyfriend's egregiously large penis rather than a corpse scaring the life out of you. Usually, he gave you time to adjust, inched his way in, and let your walls stretch to accommodate his size, but tonight he saw fit to punish you, to brutally defile your body as he saw fit. Perhaps it was retribution for letting your eyes linger on another longer than appropriate, perhaps this was bubbling within him for a long time. He didn’t stifle your screams this time, he let them ring out for everyone to hear. 

Time passed in a blur, your body no more than a vessel for containing Aemond’s rage. You were pinned against the wall by his veined forearms, blood pumping through his body with the exertion. You could do little to adjust to his onslaught, your body didn’t have time to get used to the feeling. His sharp hips pistoned against the plump curve of your arse, the sound of skin slapping echoing out into the hollow night. You knew you’d be bruised, your skin would bear the mottled remnants of his anger for days, stained with multicoloured blotches. You let your mind wander, settling into the thick fog of pain and numbness. It’d be over in just a minute, with the pace Aemond had set; he was sure to come undone quite quickly. There was no restraining raw, animalistic desire and his was on full display. Eventually, the pain of his forceful penetration dulled, the sharp sting muted, and all too soon you felt the familiar coil settle in your core. You knew there’d be no relief, yet you allowed yourself to hope, to picture the sweet release that could come, if he was merciful. 

This wasn’t reminiscent of any other time you’d fucked, any other time he used your body for his pleasure. There was no love present here, no affection, only crude carnal desire. Raw, unfiltered, tainted with ego and testosterone. Pure adrenaline coursed through his system, driving each callous thrust. There was no hint of gentility in his movements, no trace of the man you’d once made love to. This monster chased his own high, using your flesh as he saw fit. Your skin would bear the evidence; it’d remind you of this night even when the memory dulled. Even when the haze of potential pleasure clouded your recall of his brutality. Mottled bruising would stain the surface, remind you of the sudden appearance of this alter ego, this second self Aemond had long hidden. A bloodthirsty creature that lingered underneath the surface, and reared its head when jealousy spilled over. Considering the alternative, being used as no more than a fleshlight was a preferable outcome. Considering the violence you’d seen at his hand, the body that day in the dirt as a result of his rage, being used for his sexual release was the least egregious path. 

Yet, even though your mind knew all this was wrong, that you were upset and betrayed, that you wanted the gentle man you loved back, you couldn’t deny the physical response your body had to being so roughly handled. You couldn’t deny the burning between your legs, the ever tightening coil as his cock ravaged your cunt. And though your mind had slightly more trouble overcoming the whole jealous rage-murder-thing, your body seemed more than capable of withstanding each revenge fuelled thrust, each slap of skin and bone against your delicate flesh. Even the sound of his pale skin smacking against yours drew goosebumps to the surface and sent a fresh shiver through your bones. You knew you’d fall apart around him soon. The question was, would he find his high before your banks burst around him?

Aemond certainly wasn’t shy about making noise, letting his guttural grunts ring out into the night.  He didn’t care who heard, he didn’t care who witnessed the punishment he inflicted upon you for casting your eyes towards another. He watched your body swallow his cock, over and over, as his hips kept up their punitive pace. Somehow, the sight of his cock disappearing into your body, sheathed within such warmth, it pulled emotion from him that he never knew he had. He didn’t think he was capable of forgiveness, of being anything but cold and vengeful. Yet this seemed like a fitting punishment for you, taking his length over and over, taking him so deeply into your body that he felt the very essence of you coming apart around him. The moonlight danced on your juices, which coated his cock from tip to base. It was mesmerising, hypnotising, evidence of your arousal and devotion, even under such gruelling circumstances. Aemond felt the familiar flutter of your walls around his shaft, the telltale sign that you were on the precipice of release. Yet you held yourself together, you held your peak back. And he would drag you there, he’d show you just how merciful a violent man could be, with the evidence of his passion staring at them from the cold ground.  

Aemond’s change of heart was sudden and rather shocking. Instead of verbalising his ideas, instead of communicating, he halted his brutal assault all at once, pulling his pants up around shaking knees and leaving you empty, without warning or any thought for your building pleasure.

You just stood, in a state of shock and right on the edge of release, desperate for relief, when it stood tantalisingly close. He hadn’t finished, he didn't even wipe himself off, he just…stopped. And before you could comprehend why, Aemond’s hand found the nape of your neck. His grip was tight, consuming, his touch like tongues of flame against the contrasting chill of the night air, yet he didn’t grab tight enough to cause you pain. Just to bend you to his will, to let you know that you belonged to him, and him alone.

He pulled you into the warmth of the house once without a word, ignoring the sheen of sweat on your brow, and the red hot flush that burned beneath your skin from his efforts. As you walked through sticky swathes of drunken people, you kept your eyes trained on the beer stained floor, hoping that nobody would notice your disheveled state. The crowd were too engrossed in their bottles to notice, but you were certain everyone had heard your lurid activities outside, even above the din of the playlist that blasted through crackling speakers in the living room. Approaching the one person you knew would miss your presence, you said a quiet goodbye to Helaena before disappearing through the sea of inebriated bodies, into the ink-black night with Aemond guiding your way. His hands gripped your spine like a vice, directing every step, controlling the depth and pace of every breath you took. Yet there was something oddly freeing about it. Something strangely comforting about removing your autonomy and giving complete control to this unhinged human.

He controlled your every move, even when his hands weren’t on your body. You felt his red hot stare lingering as he rounded the bonnet, making his way to the driver door.  

The dark leather creaked as he sank into the plush seat, the material shifting under his weight, accommodating and molding to his shape as he settled into it. It gave way to him like clay, fitting to his svelte yet strangely dense and muscular form. He didn't reach for the radio, didn't force small talk where it wasn't needed. From the minute the key turned in the ignition, Aemond had you right where he wanted you; unsatisfied and on the edge of reason. He left you empty and confused, waiting on tenterhooks for his next move. 

As he steered into the night, with only the glow of the headlights shining against the tarmac, his hand moved to rest on your thigh, long fingers digging into the soft flesh, leaving crescent shapes in their wake. He may as well have branded you, his touch felt like flames nipping at your skin. Not once did that hand leave your thigh, not once did he lift his fingers from their resting place. 

Each squeeze made your breath hitch in your chest, each time getting a little tighter, pinching the skin just a little more. You knew there was a chance those marks would be permanent, scars to remind you exactly who you belonged to, like a tattoo carved into flesh. 

Passing streetlights illuminated the smirk permanently painted onto his face. The pale glow from the outside glinted off of his prosthetic eye, catching the sapphire hue and somehow making Aemond look even more menacing. Each flickering bulb formed a rhythm; you found yourself tapping your fingers to the beat of each one as it whizzed by. Perhaps it was a way to distract from the sting of nails digging into your thigh muscle, perhaps it was a coping mechanism - a way to make sense of all that had happened tonight, and all that was sure to come in the early hours of morning. Despite the pleasure you were denied, and the lingering ache within you from Aemond's onslaught, you couldn't help but recall the horrors you had seen also. 

You’d left that man lying face down in the dirt. Would he be found by some other drunken soul, stumbling over his chilled corpse as they sparked up a cigarette? Wound someone find out who had led him to his inevitable death? 

The torturous silence stretched into the night, the only sound underneath that metal roof were the mingled hushed tones of your combined breaths.

No door could contain Aemond's fervour, no barrier of wood could keep him from his plans. As soon as his feet crossed the threshold, he pulled you down the hall, pulling you into the bathroom hastily. He didn't verbalise his carefully crafted plans, he never once let you know where his mind was going, you simply followed wordlessly, accepting your fate as it came. 

You certainly didn't expect plump lips to meet your own in an unusually passionate embrace, before backing you into the shower, still fully clothed. You didn't question it, but your eyes clearly communicated your confusion, ad Aemond answered with a familiar cheeky grin. 

His hand reached behind you, releasing the water from its chamber. It was hot, like fire in liquid form. Like dragon fire, tongues of flame licked at the surface of your skin. Aemond didn't seem to notice, it didn't seem to faze him, and immediately crowded around you, backing you against the glass wall. He had less grip under the running water, his hands couldn’t get purchase on your skin. Clawing hands slipped under the flow of running water, yet that didn't hinder his frenzied actions. 

He crowded you against the glass, held your body tightly with one hand, while the other wandered to the slick column of your throat. Nimble fingers wrapped around delicate skin, pressing slightly on either side. Just enough to remind you of his power, just enough to keep you malleable under his touch. 

He’d already punished you that night, taken his anger and malice out thoroughly on your pliant cunt. So instead of abusing his power and alienating the one good thing he had, he decided to incentivise good behaviour. To show you he could be the devoted man you thought he was, as well as the one you found tonight. To keep you truly under his thumb, he needed to be merciful as well as vengeful. Besides, it was fun to watch you fall apart under his touch, to watch your eyes roll back in your head as his body brought you immense pleasure. Dropping to his knees, Aemond hooked one of your thighs over his shoulder as you braced yourself against the glass, eyes widening with each surprising development. You could scarcely believe the vision before you, it was a shocking u-turn, a swift pivot back to the passionate, tender man you called yours only hours earlier, though that sharp edge remained. The man you thought you knew so well was not lost, merely buried beneath the thin veil of a monster. You just let it happen, not daring to question his intentions, not daring to interrupt.

A hot tongue darted from his jaw, catching the falling water on its rough surface before plunging to its purpose. His jutting chin nuzzled between your legs, his pointed nose angled slightly upwards to stimulate your sensitive clit. Aemond knew what he was doing, he always did, but this night he set about devouring you with renewed purpose and surprising enthusiasm. One dazzlingly blue eye peered up at you from between your folds. He seemed to know just where to apply pressure, how to stimulate the most sensitive spots that would make you melt into his mouth. He was still the man who devoured you at every turn, who took pleasure in pleasuring you. But this time seemed different, this time he seemed determined to watch you come undone, to assert dominance in the most unlikely of positions. Every breath, every sweet exclamation and high pitched whine only fed his ego further. You were truly and devastatingly under his thumb, and you knew it. With one swipe of his tongue, you’d fallen into his trap. There was no escaping it now. 

So instead of fighting the pleasure that welled deep within, that wrung tighter with each lapping sweep of his textured tongue you gave yourself over to it. You resigned yourself to the duality of his wanton violence, to his murderous tendencies and slightly insane possessive nature, with the man that knelt before you, the one you'd fallen for. You even allowed yourself to enjoy it, to lose yourself in it and lap up each and every ounce of tainted love Aemond deemed fit to give. 

Even over the patter of running water, your exclamations of ecstasy echoed between the thick glass panes keeping you aloft. Your knees had long buckled beneath your tired frame, you were only kept upright by Aemond's strong shoulders and one solid sheet of glass behind your back. 

It wasn't long before you found the pleasure you were earlier denied in a warm supping tongue, ravaging your cunt as if it’d never taste your flesh again. As if your skin contained the sweetest of nectar, a delicacy Aemond sought out most fervently.  

It was merely minutes before you were spilling into the open caverns of his mouth, your body succumbing to his expert ministrations, seceding its battle with guilt and fear to an overwhelming blanket of ecstasy. Aemond sucked every drop from your dripping cunt, licked and sucked your swollen clit long past the point of release, until he had you writhing around his head, begging for relief from the almost painful overstimulation. It was only then, as your pleading rang in his ears, that Aemond finally relinquished his efforts, and made his way back up your body, to share his reward with your waiting mouth. You could taste yourself on his tongue, in his searing kiss. He claimed every inch of you, everything you had was his. 

And now, as he gave you everything you wanted, you were more than willing to succumb to his every whim. 

Though when the haze of pleasure wore off, when the coil in your gut had been let loose and you could think clearly, your mind reeled, remembering every gory detail the night held. 

You were truly stuck, wedged firmly under his thumb, and Aemond knew exactly how to keep you pliant and willing, he knew exactly how much your body yearned for his hands, how you couldn’t possibly resist the call of his body, even when your mind fought to escape. 

The next morning, knuckles rapped on sagging wood that could tell a multitude of stories. Glazed eyes opened the door to reveal local police, investigating a missing person's report. 

The man without a name, the corpse in the cold, who everyone assumed had Irish goodbyed, never made it home. Yet another young man in recent weeks who never graced their own front doors again, who disappeared without a trace. His body had been discovered tossed onto the side of a blackened road, far from anyone who loved him, or even knew his name. His roommates called it in, knowing he was supposed to walk home that night. They knew he'd never stay out, never leave his cat unattended without saying anything. It was out of character for him to stay out without so much as a text, or posting about his night. They knew something was very wrong when he didn’t grace their flat by 4am, and they raised the alarm.

Two level headed cops interviewed every hungover face in that living room, every person that stayed and slept where they stood. As expected, memories were foggy, clouded by alcohol and recreational drugs, now wreaking havoc on tired bodies. Yet despite hazy recollections of that night, Aemond’s name came up a few times for having disappeared throughout the night. Sore heads and cloudy memories all pointed to Aemond as acting suspiciously, though nobody outrightly suspected him of being a killer. A few names graced tired lips, a few people who had left early, some who had a reputation for trouble, some who were known to disappear without saying anything. Yet it was Aemond that drew attention, it was him that stuck in the clouded minds of everyone who attended that night.

It wasn’t long before trouble graced your doorstep,  the hollow sound of knuckles knocking at your door stirring you from sleep, and bringing you out into the hallway. You were groggy, moving slowly, but you heard someone at the door. Aemond was already up, and had answered the front door clad in nothing but his boxers. To some it might have been seen as pure laziness, you knew better. You knew that the sight of his sculpted body would throw off whoever was on the other side of that door, knocking at an ungodly hour as a migraine rattled through your brain. You could barely hear what they were saying from your perch atop the stairs, but you did hear several questions being asked, and so out of curiosity, you wandered to the landing to get a better view. It was the police. Shit. 

Every morose detail came flooding back to you, in grotesque clarity. The blood, his face under the pale moonlight, the wound that spanned the breadth of his neck. The violence and brutality of it all. You’d honestly forgotten most of it, the vivid details were diluted by alcohol and knocked loose by Aemond’s bipolar behaviour afterwards. But seeing two officers in uniform grace your apartment door brought it all back, including the overwhelming sense of horror. It was all you could do to run to the bathroom and rid yourself of the guilt before someone spotted you. 

After you’d expelled your guilt into the porcelain bowl, washing your face with cold water and tidying yourself up to the best of your ability, you decided to join Aemond downstairs. It was better than hiding. You only caught part of the conversation, and even as you descended the stairs, you heard pointed voices echoing in condescending tones. 

“You’re not in any trouble,” one of them said kindly, ‘the good cop,’ Aemond thought distastefully, though he didn’t for one second let his face reflect his true thoughts. “Right now we’re just following some lines of inquiry and your name has come up a lot.”

Another, more stern voice chimed in quickly after. “Seems enough people were concerned about your disappearing acts on the night in question that they thought it worthwhile mentioning.”

“Am I under arrest, officers?” he sighed, almost bored at their probing line of questioning. You cringed at his blatant display of ego, you knew that this alter Aemond was different, somewhat maniacal but you never thought what would happen when he was confronted with true authority. Even still, you made your way over to them and stood by his side, giving a polite nod to the officers. 

“Well that depends son, you have anyone else that can account for your whereabouts on the night, anybody who can solidly swear they were with you the entire time?” 

Silence. He looked to the side, throwing his eyes in your direction, slightly confused, but also betrayed by your hesitance.

Aemond deflated, he thought of the fear in your eyes when you'd discovered the true depths of his depravity last night, the look of betrayal when he’d pressed the metal of his blade to your skin and watched the trickle of blood there. Somehow he expected obedience. 

“I will make sure you never forget who you belong to,” he’d said at the time and he’d hoped his actions last night were enough to enforce upon you that no matter what happened now: no cuffs, bars or barbed-wired fences would ever change the fact that he had killed and would kill again to remind you of this fact.

“That’s what I thought..” the tougher cop smirked after a few moments of uneasy, weighted silence, “Aemond Targaryen you are under-”

Realising the opportunity before you, seeing your chance at escape from this dire situation of your own making, you kept your mouth firmly shut. You never anticipated just how viscerally your body would react to the jingling of handcuffs though, the cold metal struck a chord within you, pulling something along the lines of guilt and sending a feeling akin to pity bubbling to the surface. Your resolution to stay silent broke in a matter of seconds, your steel will crumbling before you could stop yourself. 

Just as he was about to be placed in cuffs, his eyes locked with yours once more and disappointment turned to rage in an instant. There was no pleading to be found there, just a look, a look that made your stomach clench and the words were wrenched from you before you even had time to think. One glance from dazzlingly blue eyes was all it took for the words to come tumbling from your lips. "He was with me all night” you blurted and the cop stopped mid arrest-speech. You regretted it as soon as you heard the words form in the air before you, but it was too late. He cocked an eyebrow and smirked at you in a way that made you feel small and far too bare. You had given Aemond a way out, an escape from a fate he truly deserved. 

“All night you say?” he asked, tone mocking and you were nodding wide-eyed and heart racing.

“And you would be willing to swear that before a judge now would you sweetheart?”

Something about his mocking tone, or his condescending use of the word sweetheart had you bridling and you stuck your chin out stubbornly.

“I’ll swear it to anyone you want me to, he never left my sight all night. I can even go into the details of what exactly we were doing when we ‘disappeared’ each time if you’d like.”

‘That’s my girl’, Aemond thought as the police officer was forced to unclasp the bracelets from his narrow wrists and he grinned knowing that he had you exactly where he wanted you. You’d had your chance to escape him, and now he knew resolutely that you were lovestruck, even in the face of everything you’d seen and he had you undeniably stuck, under his thumb. 

With an alibi now firmly in place they had no choice but to take your statements and be on their way, any hope they had of pinning it on Aemond dissipated with your sworn statement and their demeanour toward him completely changed.

Aemond himself had switched into charming mode, you’d seen it a thousand times before, you had yourself been victim to it, but it still scared you how easily he slipped into it and how capable he was of making people believe him and bend to his will.

“Whoever the killer’s after, I'm glad they have you guys to protect them” Aemond uttered to the retreating police, flashing a fake smile their way before turning his back. 

“City’s finest…” he whispered under his breath, as they walked in the opposite direction, leaving you to a fate of your own making. As he pushed past you, once more entering the cosy apartment, Aemond whispered a final sentence that made your blood run cold at the utterance.

“You can't run from who you are baby ..none of us can”

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

It was a small town, everyone has potentially heard of someone at some point, so the three bodies that have been discovered, so far, you had a connection to in some sort of way. But, so did everyone else, so you didn’t think much of it.

“Did you see they found another one?” Nick asks as he looks up from his phone.

You shake your head, “No, who was it this time?”

Chris chuckles a little bit, “Who wasn’t it, would be an easier question.” He stands up and you look up at him, “Where are you going?”

“To get a drink, you want one?” He looks down at you and you nod, “Yes, please.”

You watch as he walks away and you lean in, your voice low as you speak to Nick, “What’s going on with him?”

“What do you mean?” Nick whispers back and you glance at the door, “He’s been acting weird..” Nick furrows his brows, “I think you’re overreacting. He’s been up gaming with Matt on stream almost every night after you go to sleep.”

“So, he’s probably just tired.” You tilt your head, “Makes sense.” You lean back on the couch and Nick leans over, “Trust me, y/n. You don’t have to worry about anything. Chris would do anything for you.”

You nod, “I know. Sorry, I just-“

Chris walks back out and you stop talking, you look at the tv and rest your arm on the arm rest, your knuckles resting against your head.

“Here, ma.” Chris hands you a drink and you reach up and take it, “Thanks, babe.”

He sits back down next to you, his arm moving around your shoulder to pull you into him. He kisses your head and you can’t help but notice the slight smirk on Nick’s lips.

The first time Chris killed for you, it was like he’s been waiting his whole life to do something like this.

His first victim was a guy named Lewis. He got a little handsy with you at a party, and even though you kept telling him no, Chris couldn’t contain his jealous anger.

Once you got a little too drunk, he had Matt and Nick take you home while he proceeded to follow Lewis home. He walked down the streets, while Chris cut through allies, finally catching him enter one. He pulled the ghost mask out from under his shirt and slipped it on before running up behind him. He slashed him in the back and pushed him down to the ground.

Chris rolled him over and covered his mouth with his gloved hand and drug the knife down the side of his face before stabbing him repeatedly in the chest and neck before leaving the scene.

Lewis’ death was ruled out as him oweing someone money for drugs, lots of drugs.

As you went upstairs to bed, you stopped him before he walked over and laid down, “Can I ask you something?”

Chris looks up at you and he nods, “Yeah, babe. What’s up?”

“Do you.. game, after I go to sleep?”

He furrows his brows and he tilts his head, “Is that.. a problem?”

You shake your head, “No, no. The reason I’m asking is because.. I don’t know, I’ve been in my head lately and you just seem different.. I said something to Nick and-“

“You said something to Nick?” Chris steps towards you, “What did he say?”

You pause for a second, “That, you.. um, game after I go to sleep, with Matt? Was he not supposed to say anything because I’m not mad if that’s what you think.”

“No, I’m not.. mad, I just.. you can come to me about anything, y/n. I promise. No matter what it is.. I’ll always do what I can.” Chris takes your hands into his and you look down, gasping slightly as you see his bruised knuckles, “Chris what-“

“I rage quit last night and punched the desk. I’m shocked you didn’t wake up.” He laughs and you raise your brows, “You punched it that hard?”

He nods, “I couldn’t yell like I normally do because that definitely would have woken you up.” He chuckles and pulls you in, “If you don’t want me to game anymore, I-“

“No, you do what you want. Okay. Just, stay with me until I fall asleep?” You look up at him and he smiles, “That’s what I normally do.”

“Oh, so you’ve thought of everything.” You tease as you walk over to change into your pajamas and Chris slips off his shirt, “Yeah, kind of.” He smirks, walking over to fall onto his bed.

You walk around, climbing up onto your side and you move into lay your head on his chest, “Just.. don’t, punch the desk anymore. I don’t need you breaking your hand.”

“Okay.” He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead, “I won’t.”

His second victim, was Brina. She was a demon to work with. You felt like she hated you for no reason, laughing at you, making snide comments, and even whispering to the girls that worshipped the ground she walked on about you as you walked by.

She would change the dates on stuff, making you late for meetings or just not show up in general. One day, she even went as far as telling your boss, who she was clearly sleeping with, that you fucked up a big order when you knew, damn well it was her. The boss was screaming at you to the point of tears, and you almost lost your job.

The day you came home crying about it, Chris went into action and as soon as you fell asleep, he had Matt on watch for you, ready to give you an excuse as to why he wasn’t there.

Chris was dressed in black from head to toe, the only thing that wasn’t black was the white of his mask and the silver of the blade attached to his knife.

He upped his game, sneaking inside of her house after he made sure she was the only one there, using a voice changer to disguise his voice as he tormented her.

“Hello?” Brina answers as she pauses her music, sighing when he doesn’t say anything right away, “Listen, if this is a spam call, don’t call back.”

“Don’t hang up.” Chris speaks, “I want to talk to you.”

“Tell me who this is, and maybe I’ll consider.” She rolls her eyes as she stands up, “Is this.. someone from work?”

“Haven’t you fucked enough people from there?” Chris responded and she scoffs, “I don’t have to deal with th-“

“Hang up on me and I swear to god I’ll make it slow.” Chris snaps and she swallows, “Who the fuck is this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Chris opens a door and it catches her attention, “Are you.. are you in my house?” She stands up from her bed and stares at her door, “I’m calling the police.”

“Bad idea.” Chris hangs up, kicking her bedroom door open before lunging at her and slicing her throat. She drops to the floor and he stares at her, listening to her choke on her own blood before he leaves without a trace.

Her death was ruled as home robbery gone wrong, they nabbed someone else for robbery a few days later, pinned the death on him.

The next morning, you wake up and Chris isn’t there.

You let out a slight sigh as you get out of bed and walk downstairs to see him sitting with Matt and Nick on the couch.

“Morning.” Nick gives you a smile and you nod, “Morning.”

“Hey, babe.” Chris holds his hand out and you take it, allowing him to guide you around the couch to the spot next to him on the couch, “Didn’t want to wake you.”

You nod, “It’s fine.” You give him a kiss and look at the tv, “Another one?”

“Yeah, we went to high school with him.” Matt mumbles and you lean forward, “I dated that asshole for a few weeks.” You shake your head, “I guess he got what was coming to him.”

Chris’ grip tightens on your waist and he rests his head against your chest, “Sorry you went through that.”

You shrug, “I survived.”

“You guys wanna go out for breakfast or something?” Nick looks at everyone you nod, “Yeah I don’t feel like cooking anything.”

“Go get dressed.” Chris looks up at you, pursing his lips. You smile and press your lips to his, “Okay.”

You scurry up the steps to get dressed, and you meet them back downstairs to head out to Matt’s car.

Another thing you’ve noticed lately is how much Chris has been zoning out, but little do you know, he’s thinking back on each person he’s killed to protect you.

And thinking of the next.

His third victim, was your boss, Archie.. shocking, right?

He gave it a little bit of time after Brina, even though he was already planning on going for him right after he left her body on her bedroom floor.

Chris waited in the back of Archie’s unlocked car, it was dark. Not many street lights outback, and one camera that pointed towards the back door.

Archie was on his phone, texting as he made his way to his vehicle. He swung open the door, and got in. Chris reached forward, covering his mouth and stabbing him in the chest, right over his heart.

His voice was disguised as he spoke, “Rot in hell, asshole.” Then he delivered a few more stabs before getting out and opening his car door.

His death was ruled a car jacking gone wrong, they arrested yet another guy who was caught trying to steal a woman’s car a day later.

You see, Chris was a lot smart than anyone ever thought.

Every time news of a another murder came to light, Chris was right there, comforting you through every emotion you had at the time. He wouldn’t let you go anywhere alone, and you sure as hell didn’t feel like you were alone, even at home.

You felt so safe with him, safer than you’ve ever felt with anyone in your life.

“Hey.” You reach over, pinching his chin gently, “You okay?” He nods, tilting his head down to kiss your hand, “I have a headache that I cannot get rid of today.”

“We didn’t have to-“

“It’s okay, ma.” He smiles, “I promise.”

You smile at him, giving him a nod before you slide your hand down into his and continue your conversation with Nick.

Last night, after you fell asleep, Chris went to Matt’s room and he’s been stuck on the conversation and what followed after, ever since.

“You’re starting to crash out, Chris. You can’t keep going out every night like this. What if she finds out?”

Chris scoffs, rolling his eyes, “She’s a heavy sleeper, and plus, if she wakes up, I’m never gone long enough for the he walked down the street to the store to get you some stuff to not work.”

Matt shakes his head, “You need to tell her, before she finds out the wrong way.”

“Are you saying you’ll tell her that all of this was me?” Chris raises his brows and Matt shrugs, “I don’t know, Chris. But you need to either come up with better plans, or you need to get her on board with your shit so you don’t wig the fuck out on us from lack of sleep.”

Chris shakes his head and stands up.

“Where are you going?” Matt asks in a loud whisper and Chris glances back at him, “to the store to get her some stuff.”

But that wasn’t where he went, and Matt knew that. He went to find the asshole of an ex that you seen was dead on the news the next morning.

He found where he was, which wasn’t hard. He posts everything and anything. He was at a house party two blocks over.

He was standing out back, screaming at someone on the other end of his phone. With a huff, he threw his phone to the ground, shattering it as it hit the concrete. He turns around, stopping when he sees Chris standing there in his ghostface attire.

“Aye, buddy.” Steven laughs, “Halloween ain’t for a couple weeks.” He walks towards Chris, getting further away from the house, “The fuck are you doin’ huh?”

Chris pulls out his knife and walks towards him, and Steven laughs, “You’re not funny, pal.” He steps but Chris walks up to him, quickly throwing a punch that caused Steven to stumble back.

“You think it’s funny to beat on women?” Chris asks in his disguised voice, “There’s a special place in hell for people like you. And tonight, I’m punching your ticket to go there.”

“The fuck? I don’t hit women, okay? What is that bitch of an ex, y/n sayin’ shit again. I’m gonna fuckin’ kill her.”

Chris runs towards him, pushing him backwards and Steven flips over the guard rail and falls down the embankment to the stream of water.

Chris makes his way down there and stands over him. Steven groans, his head gushing blood from smacking a few rocks on the way down.

“H-help me.. don’t.. don’t do this, man..”

Chris tilts his head, bending down to hold his face under the water until he stops flailing around.

“Oh look.” You raise your brows as you click on the news article that popped up on your phone screen, “An update on the death of Steven Myers.” You read down over the article, reading aloud important pieces of it to the rest of the table, “Toxicology report said he was super drunk basically.. dah dah, dah.. he must have tripped and fell over the guard rail, not seeing it, I guess.. and he drowned. No sign.. of foul play.”

You shake your head as you set your phone back down on the table, “I mean, it was only a matter of time. His drinking was a big issue.”

“Like you said, he got what he deserved.” Nick raises his brows, “He was such an asshole.”

“Yeah.” You nod, “A major asshole.”

“Chris.” Nick points, “What the fuck happened to your hand?”

“Didn’t Matt tell you? I punched the desk because the game pissed me off.” Chris runs his fingers over the faded bruises and Matt laughs, “No fuck, I forgot to tell him. We were gaming and Chris was literally the last man standing and died right at the last fucking second.”

“I’m still pissed about that, actually.” Chris laughs, moving his hands under the table to grab your hand again.

Nick raises his brows, “And that didn’t wake you up?” He points to you and you shrug, shaking your head with a light laugh, “I guess I’m that good of a sleeper.”

“Yeah, I’d say.” Matt shakes his head, “That’s crazy.”

“Can we go home now? The feeling of being out with cops patrolling is giving me anxiety like I did something, you know?”

You nod, “I totally get what you mean. It’s kinda weird.”

“Well I mean, bodies have been found, you can’t just expect them not to do anything.” Matt looks at Chris and Chris sighs, “I didn’t say they shouldn’t, did I?”

“Okay. Okay.” Nick lowers his hands to the table, “Let’s go before you two start cat fighting.”

You laugh slightly at Nick’s words and follow Chris out of the booth. You make your way to Matt’s car when an officer walks up, “Gentleman. Lady.” He give you a nod, “Are you, y/n y/l/n?”

“Um, yeah. I am?” You nod, “Can I.. help you?”

He nods, “I just have a question, I was going to give you a call later but I seen you were here so figured I’d just get it out of the way now.”

Chris’ grip tightens on your hand and you take a deep breath, “What’s the question?”

“Were you with Steven Myers in any sort of way?” The officer brings out his note pad and you nod, “I dated him for a few weeks, but he was.. it was a rocky few weeks.”

“Can you elaborate more on that for me?”

“He was a drunk. Couldn’t handle his alcohol.” You shrug, “He got belligerent at times when I tried to help him.. it was just.. bad.”

“And.. you broke up with him.. when?” The officer tilts his head and you sigh, giving Chris’ hand a squeeze, “it’s been over two years now, but he still tried to contact me every so often.”

“Any contact with him last night?”

You shake your head, “No, I was at home. We all stayed in, watched a few movies and then went to bed.”

“And you were all there?” The officer looks at the guys and they all nod, giving him “yes” and “yeah” answers.

The officer nods, “Okay. Just wanted to double check.”

“Are we free to go now?” Chris sighs and the officer stares at him, “You in a hurry or something, mister?”

Chris shakes his head, “No, I just don’t like the crowd that’s forming around us.”

The officer looks around and sighs, “Alright, yeah. You’re free to go. Just, y/n, if I can have a number to make sure it’s the correct one on file.”

“Why would her number already be on file?” Nick asks and the officer points to you, “That’s on her to explain.”

You glance at Nick, “I filed reports on Steven before. Harassment and.. what not..”

Chris wraps his arm around your waist as you give the officer your number and then he quickly gets you in the car, sliding in next to you.

Matt and Nick follow and Matt starts to drive off, “Why the fuck did he act like you did it, y/n?” Nick looks back, “I mean, you get her pissed off enough, I could see going all..” he makes a creeking sound as he pretends to wield a knife, “You know what I mean?”

You laugh, giving him a shrug, “I was at home last night, so the only person who could have caused his death, was Steven himself. They already said there was no foul play, so.”

You sigh, “I just.. do you even think it’s smart to go to this fuckin Halloween party next week? Like think about it, all of the murders have been almost the same cause of death, like what if that person is still out there just living in the shadows until the right time?”

“Okay.” Nick laughs, “Now I really think you’re overthinking it.”

“If there was a crazy person carrying around a knife, don’t you think there would be more bodies being found?” Chris asks and you sigh, thinking for a second, “Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right. I’m just.. scared I guess? I don’t know.”

“That officer just stirred up a lot of bad emotion asking about ex fuckface, alright?” Matt glances back at you in the rearview mirror and you nod, “Yeah, that’s probably what’s happening.”

You look over at Chris and he takes your hand, giving your knuckles a kiss, “You’re good, okay. You’re safe.”

He tucks hair behind your ear and caresses your cheek, “I got you.”

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

“So, who is who again?” You ask looking over the colored masks and fake weapons.

“I think I should be Leonardo, because.. you know, he’s the leader.” Nick laughs and points to Matt, “He’s definitely Rafael because of his attitude.”

“His mattitude.” You laugh and Matt nods, “Yeah that’s right.” He laughs and points to Chris, “ Michelangelo, hands fucking down.”

“Oh I already knew he’d be Mikey as soon as we decided to go as the ninja turtles.” You laugh and slide the orange mask and nunchucks and you grab the purple mask, “Guess I’m Donnie?”

“Purple looks good on you.” Chris smirks, “I like it.”

You smile and lay it down with your fake Bo staff.

“Here, Nick.” You slide over the plastic katanas, “You get these and Matt.” You slide over the plastic town said, “You get these.”

“Imagine if these were real.” Chris flips around the nunchucks and Nick instantly shuts him down, “No.”

Matt laughs and grabs his red mask, “I’m gonna go change, then once we’re ready we can head over.”

“Sounds good.” You turn to Chris, “Come on. Let’s go get ready.” He follows you upstairs with his costume and you walk into his room. You sit down to do you makeup first which doesn’t take long, and then you slip on your costume.

The guys have body suites with the design printed on them, you have a green dress with the design printed on them.

Nick convinced everyone that you all needed the turtle shells, so now you all have turtle shell backpacks basically.

You sit down on the bed, leaning down to put on your green boots to match the dress and you glance up at Chris, “Are you excited?”

He nods, fixing his hair to lay over the mask, “Yeah, I think we’re going to look pretty cool.” He smiles as he walks over to you, “Here.” He picks up your mask and spins you around, “Lay it where you want, I’ll tie it.”

“You know what I just remembered?” You turn your head slightly as Chris ties your mask, “What’s that, babe?”

You spin around, “the first guy they found? He was at that party we were at.”

Chris furrows his brows, “Was he?”

You nod, sitting back down on the bed, “It’s actually crazy, because he kept trying to talk to me and he kept grabbing me and even Kat was telling him to back off.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Chris asks, knowing he already knew, “I would have beat the fuck out of him.”

You laugh slightly, “I know, that’s partially why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want a scene being made because we all were just having such a good time, he left after a while, and he obviously got his karma, so.” You shrug, turning towards him, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it sooner.”

He shakes his head, pulling you into a hug, “It’s okay.” He presses a kiss to your head, “But tonight, anyone fucking lays a finger on you, they’re getting smacked. I don’t care. You’re my girl.”

You bite your lip, tilting your head back to look up at him, “I like this.. protector vibe you got goin’ on.”

He smirks, “Yeah?”

You nod, “oh yeah.” You pull him in for a kiss, which quickly turns into a heated make out.

“Guys!” Nick bangs on the door, “Come on!”

You pull away, letting out a sigh, “Well finish this later.”

Chris smirks, giving you a nod, “Oh yeah.”

You walk over opening the door to see Nick and Matt standing there ready. You laugh, reaching back to grab Chris’ hand, “Alright. Let’s go.”

At the party, you were having a great time. Chris was glued to your hip, and you kind of figured it’s because of what you told him prior to coming, but either way, you didn’t mind.

“Do you need another drink?” Chris looks at you and you look into your cup, holding up your pointer finger. You finish the rest and nod, “Now I do.”

He smirks and nods, “Alright. I’ll be right back.” He takes your cup and walks away as you turn to Matt, “How ya doin’ Matt?”

He looks around, nodding his head, “I’m alright.”

You look at Nick, “And you?”

Nick laughs, giving you a nod, “I’m good, how are you?”

You sigh, “I’m actually having a lot of fun.” You look around, furrowing your brows when you don’t see Chris at the drink table, “Chris was supposed to be getting me a drink, but he’s no-“

“I’m right here.” Chris pops up behind you and you spin, “There you are!”

“Here I am.” He laughs as he hands you your cup, “Worried?” You shrug as you take a sip, “Not anymore.” You grab him by the wrist, “Come dance with me.”

“Alright.” He wraps his arm around your waist, following you down to the dance floor. You move your hips and rest your head back on his shoulder as you sing, laughing as you spill a little bit from your cup, “Oops.”

“You’re fine.” Chris smirks, his eyes moving across the crowd before he looks down at you, “I’m just glad you’re having fun.”

You nod, “I am. But don’t you think it’s kind of weird that Donnie and Mikey are dating?”

He laughs and shakes his head, “It’s only weird if you make it weird.” He pulls you in for a kiss and suddenly you’re elbowed in the back, letting out a groan against his lips, “What the fuck.”

“Yo, my bad.” This guy laughs, “I didn’t see you standing there.”

“Well maybe look a little harder next time, asshole.” Chris pulls you next to him as you rub the spot on your back with your hand.

“The fuck did you just call me?” The guy steps closer and Chris stares at him, “You fuckin’ heard me.”

“Nah, nah. I don’t think I did.” The guy chuckles and shakes his head, “It was an accident, bro. Seriously. Shes fine.” He looks at you, “Right?”

“Don’t fuckin’ talk to her.” Chris puts his arm out in front of you and you lean back, looking for Matt and Nick.

You try to wave at them chalantly, getting their attention to come over.

“Ah, I see. You’re one of them stupid controlling fucks.” The guys raises his brows and you step in, “He’s not.”

“Y/n, don’t.” Chris snaps and you press your lips together, looking back for Matt and Nick. They’re trying to make their way through the crowd, but people keep blocking them.

“Listen, I’m going to walk away now, before there’s actually a real issue.” The guy stares at Chris for a few seconds before stepping back.

“fucking finally.” You huff as Matt and Nick walk up.

“What the fuck is going on?” Matt looks between you and Chris and Chris shakes his head, “Elbowed y/n right in the back, laughed it off like it was a fucking joke.”

Nick and Matt share a glance and Nick sighs, “Come on.”

“Where? Why? What?” You look around as Nick pulls you with him. Matt gets behind Chris and pushes his forward, following you and Nick out of the crowd.

You make your way back up to where you were prior and Chris shakes his head, “Fuck this.” He walks towards the door to go outside and Nick stops you from following, “He’s pissed at us, not you. Just let him cool off.”

Chris walked down off the porch, around to the shadow side of the house and climbed up the lattice attached to it. He pushed the window up and slid in, closing it quietly.

“Why is he mad at you? For stopping a fight?” You raise your brows, shaking your head, “There’s something else going on, isn’t there?”

“No, y/n. Chris would have beat that guy, we didn’t want anyone getting hurt, okay?” Nick assures but you don’t buy it, “No, Chris has been acting off for weeks. You both know I, I know it, now what the fuck is going on?”

Chris slides his backpack off of his shoulders, taking out and putting on the mask and gloves before grabbing the knife, and waiting behind the door.

They look at each other and Matt shakes his head, “Chris will have to tell you.”

“Tell me-“ you scoff, “Tell me what?”

“Let’s just.. go find Chris and then we’ll go home.” Nick stands up and you push him away, “No. no.” You huff, bolting for the door before they can chase after you.

You go out into the porch, looking around for Chris, but you don’t see him.

You walk between the cars and around the house. You even go to Matt’s car, and Chris isn’t there.

You pull your phone out to call him, but it goes straight to voicemail, “Fuck.” You look around, “What the fuck.”

You watch as Nick and Matt come out of the door and you duck down, watching them as they walk off the porch.

You snuck back into the house, asking the nearest person where the bathroom was.

“Upstairs.”

You nod, glancing behind you before making your way up the steps. You bite your lip as you opened each door that was closed, peaking your head in before moving onto the next.

Chris slowly reaches into his bag as the footsteps grew closer, the anticipation growing stronger as his grip tightened on the knife.

You let out a sigh, ripping off your purple mask.

Chris isn’t anywhere to be found so far. You check the bathroom, knocking on it before pushing the door open and you spin around.

His breathing was heavy behind the black and white mask that hid his face, and it stopped once the footsteps stopped right outside the door he was behind.

You walk up to the final door on the right side of the hall, your hand reaching out to twist the knob before you push it open.

You let out a struggled yelp as a leather glove cladded hand meets your throat and pulls you into the dark room.

“Y-y/n?” Chris gasps, ripping off the mask, “What are you doing?”

You sit down on the ground, your eyes moving to the knife shaped silhouette in his hand and you push yourself backwards, “I-I, w-what..” your breathing was fast, your heart felt like it was going to beat straight out of your chest.

Chris looks down at his hand and shakes his head, “This isn’t for you, baby. Please just listen to me, please.”

“Who.. who’s it for? What-“ you felt like your head was spinning, almost like you were hallucinating, “Chris?”

He kneels down in front of you and you shake your head, “It-it was you?” Your eyes move from his face to the mask that’s in his hand.

It was like your hands had a mind of their own as they move to take it from his grasp. From the small sliver of light coming from the hall, your thumb rubs over the dry blood splatter on the white part, “Who’s is this?”

Your voice was barely there, you weren’t sure if it was from fear, or just being in plain shock.

“Can we-“ Chris stops talking as soon as your head snaps up to look at him, and he clears his throat, “Let me.. just.. pack up all of this and we can go home? Talk about this?”

All you can do is nod.

He pries the mask from your fingertips, shoving it back into his bag along with the knife and gloves. He zips the bag shut, throwing it back onto his back and stands up, “You can trust me.”

You don’t look up at him. You just stand up on your own and walk past him.

He quickly follows you out of the room and down the steps.

You push through the people, Chris calling your name as you choose to ignore him as you finally make it to the porch.

You walk over to the banister, staring down at the grass and you talk yourself out of puking.

Chris is standing a little away from you and you glance over, seeing Nick and Matt standing there staring up at you through the fake cob webs that surround the porch.

You push yourself off, walking past Chris and going straight for the car.

“I take it.. we’re going home?” Nick asks and Chris nods as his eyes stay on you, but you avoid looking at him.

As soon as Matt unlocked the door, you get into the front passenger seat, leaving Chris to sit in the back with Nick.

The drive home was absolutely silent. No one dared to even make a peep.

Before Matt could even put the car in park, you were unbuckled and opening the door to get out. Chris gets out quickly, following you up to the door.

You push it open, ignoring his pleas as you go towards the steps.

“Chris.” Matt calls for him and his steps behind you stop. He watches you go into his room and you slam the door.

You were sure what you wanted to do.

Your mind was absolutely racing.

Did you want to leave? No.

Were you scared? No, but should you be? Oh definitely, but it’s weird that you weren’t.

You didn’t know what you felt. You just sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the same spot on the floor trying to figure it out.

A soft knock on the door causes you to jump, “Who is it?”

“It’s Nick.”

You walk over, stopping as you reach for the door handle, “Are you alone?”

“Yes. It’s just me.” He answers, and you slowly open the door, peaking out around at him. He raises his brows, “Can I come in?”

You step out of the way and open the door just enough for him to get through and you close it right after he enters.

He walks over, turning around and just looks at you.

You slowly turn around, your back pressed against the door and you open your mouth to say something but no words come out.

“Before you say anything, just know that I’ve wanted to tell you. Both Matt and I did, but…” Nick pauses, “I honestly don’t know what else to say.”

“How about..” you clear your throat, your voice still quiet, “Telling me when, and how, and most importantly.. why.”

“Because.. Chris is a little..” he tilts his head and you squint, “A little what? Crazy? Psycho?”

“I was going to say crazy in love, with you, but those are also fitting.” He sits down on the bed and nods for you to come over and sit next to him, “I’m here to make sure you aren’t going to snap on him when he comes up.”

You walk over, sitting down next to him, “I don’t know what I feel, but scared isn’t one of them.” You look over at him, “Any normal person would run, try their damndest to get away, but I just.. don’t feel like running.”

“Chris.. wanted you safe. He hated seeing you hurt.” Nick runs a hand through his hair, “That’s why we pushed him away from the dance floor tonight because if we didn’t. He was going to snap on that guy who elbowed you.”

“He was upstairs.” You look back down at the floor, “after I ran out looking for him.. I hid by the cars and went back in when you and Matt went around the house. I asked where the bathroom was and went upstairs. I checked each room, until finally I went to the last room on the right hand side and..” you take a deep breath and Nick turns his body towards you, “Y/n. What happened?”

You look back over at Nick, but you look past him, “Chris.. he grabbed me by the throat and pulled me into the room.. I-I.. dropped down to the ground as soon as he said my name and took his white, blood stained mask off.”

“I don’t think he was waiting for you.” Nick shakes his head and you look directly at him, “That’s the thing, I knew he wasn’t.”

“It’s just a shock.” Nick raised his brows and nods, “I remember when Chris came home and told us what he did.. the look on his face..” he sucks in a breath, “It’s like it was any other night for him. He was so normal about it..”

“Who was it?” You take a shaky breath, “Actually.. I want to talk to Chris.”

“Will you be okay?” Nick asks as he stands up and you nod, “I need to know everything and who’s better to tell me than the man who-“ you sigh, “Just get him for me.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes then I’ll send him up.” Nick squeezes your shoulder and before he walks away, you stand up and hug him.

“What’s this for?” He asks as he wraps his arms around you, and you sigh, “Keeping him safe. I know he couldn’t have done this without you or Matt.”

Nick nods and squeezes you tighter before you let go.

You watch as he walks back over to the door and opens it to leave. You hear the click of it shutting and you lay back, your eyes glued to the ceiling.

After a few minutes, another knock is heard on the door and you sit up, watching as it slowly opens.

You swallow as you see Chris walk in and close the door behind him, “Nick told me to just let you talk, so..”

You point to the bed next to you, “Sit.”

He nods, walking over to sit next to you. You slowly turn your head, “Start from the beginning.” You look at him, “I want to know everything, every reason.”

He takes a deep breath, “Can I ask something first?”

“I’m not leaving, Chris.”

You see a slight relieved look wash over his face and he nods, “Lewis Youins. He’s the guy that got handsy with you at the party. I watched as you kept telling him no, but I got so filled with anger and jealousy that something in me just.. snapped.”

“Where’d you get the mask and stuff?”

“The mask was an old Halloween mask that Matt bought a while ago to try and scare Nick and I with.. the gloves I bought and the knife I got for quote on quote, camping.”

You nod, listening to him continue, “But, um.. Lewis.. I waited for a while, trying to talk myself out of doing it, but it just didn’t work. I just had this overwhelming urge to get rid of him because he was disrespecting you.”

A small smile appears on your lips, and you nod, “Continue.”

“I cut through alley ways, waiting for him to just cross into one, and when he finally did, I put the gloves on, pulled the mask out, and ran up to him.” He mimics what he did with his hand, “Slashed him in the back and got him to the ground. I covered his mouth and stabbed him.”

You sit up a little straighter, the image he splayed out for you popping into your head, “And then.. you what? Just came home and got into bed with me?”

He nods, “Well.. yeah, but after I cleaned up and showered and told Nick and Matt.”

You nod, “And the next?”

“Brina.” He sighs quietly, “The day you came home crying because of her and your boss, who I also took out..” he laughs slightly and you look at him, “You did that for me?”

He nods, “everything I do is for you, baby.”

You nod, kicking off your shoes before moving to your knees on the bed, “How’d you.. kill Brina?” You shrug, “And can you do it while you take this stupid costume off?”

“Uh, yeah.” He nods while standing up, “yeah.. I um..” he pulls the costume down over his shoulders and you bite your lip as his bare chest is revealed, “I got a voice changer, disguise thing.. put it on the inside of the mask, and I..”

You raise your brows as he strips down to his boxers, “Snuck into her house.. hid in a closet and called her.”

He stands there and you move your hand to where he was sitting, “Bring your bag over here.”

He furrow his brows and turns to go grab the shell backpack and he hands it to you as he continues, “I asked her if she’s fucked enough people from work and she threatens to call the police so I hung up.. kicked down the door and slashed her throat.”

You unzip the bag, “Should have made it slow and painful. She was a bitch.”

Chris raises his brows, “I didn’t.. know how you would- wait..”

“Save all the questions until the end please..” you pull the mask out, “Who’s blood does this belong to?”

He tilts his head, “Probably Archie or maybe Lewis? I don’t know. I drowned Steven.”

His words set a fire inside of you.

“You.. did that?” You raise your brows and he nods, “After you fell asleep, I went over to Matt’s room to talk to him. We had a conversation that I kept thinking about all throughout breakfast, mainly about telling you. It pissed me off so I went out, found him at apart two blocks from here and..”

He trails off as you pull the knife from the bag, “were you waiting for that asshole that elbowed me?”

He nods, moving to lean up against the headboard, “I was. I’m sorry about grabbing you the way I did.”

You shake your head, “You don’t have to be sorry.” You stand up, taking off your costume dress and you walk back over to the bed, picking up the knife, “I was scared.. at first..”

You look up at him, his eyes meeting yours as you move up the bed to straddle him. His hands fall into your waist, your bare chest on display for him, “Am I the only person you ever killed for?”

He nods once, leaning forward to press slow kissing up your chest. He tilts his head back to look up at you as he whispers, “The one and only.”

A smirk slowly spreads across your painted red lips and you lean down to press them to his.

A heated make out ensues, practically picking up where you left off earlier in the day.

You kiss back his jaw, stopping at his ear with your voice low, “I want you to bury yourself in me as you tell me why you’ve killed for me.”

Chris groans at your words, flipping you over onto your back as his lips attack your neck. You press your hands into his shoulders and look up at him, “I want you to do it while you have the mask on.”

Chris bites his lip and immediately reaches over to grab it and slip it on.

Your brows furrow and your back arches as he grinds against you.

You pull him down, pressing kisses along the white of the mask, leaving a faint lip print trail, “No one has ever killed for me before.”

Chris leans down, his voice low behind the plastic, “That’s because no one has ever loved you like I do.”

He slides his hand down your body, slipping it in between the band of your panties and the skin on your body. His fingers press harsh circles to your clit, earning moans from your parted lips.

“You drive me fucking crazy, but in the best way possible, baby.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as your moans grow louder with the intention of his fingers into your achy cunt, “A lot of people look at you. A lot of people want to fuck you. I just wanted to make sure that I was the only one who would ever get to do that. I don’t like sharing.”

“Only you, baby.” You whimper out as your back leaves the bed, “I promise.”

“I just couldn’t take seeing people hurt you.” He shakes his head as his fingers thrusts into you a little bit faster, “There’s no need for a pretty girl like you to be crying, baby.”

You moan, your thighs quivering, “F-fuck.”

“So I stayed.. I listened to her choke on her own blood, and then I left. Came home to my favorite person asleep in my bed.”

You reach up, your hand laying on the side of his head, your thumb curving around to hook onto the raised part of the mask, “I’m always going to be here, Chris.”

“God I love hearing that.” He groans, “I’m literally obsessed with you.”

You bite your lip, your eyes rolling back, “K-keep talking, baby. I’m so close.”

“You’re so pretty. Literally the best person anyone could ever be with. I love your voice, your eyes, your lips, your hair. Everything about you is just so fucking perfect, I just want to keep you happy.”

Your body tenses and twitches as you come undone under his tough, your walls rapidly squeezing his fingers as he guides you through your high.

“You were literally made for me, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone try and take that away from me, or hurt what’s mine.”

He removes his hand from between your thighs and sits up. He reaches up, taking the knife that’s laying beside you and he slowly drags it down your torso.

A shuddered breath leaves your lips as you watch him stop it at your hip. He slides it under the silk fabric of your panties and slices it open.

He drags the top of the knife gently across your pelvis and doesn’t same to the other side, pulling them out from under you.

He drops the knife next to him and lifts your legs up to rest on his chest while he pushes his boxers down, “Like I said before baby..” a low groan escapes his lips as the tip of his cock rubs against you, “I’d do anything.. for you.”

He thrusts into you, your moans mixing together as you grip the sheets below you. Your hips roll slightly forward as your back arches, “F-fuck, baby.” You look up at him, his head in between your ankles, “Keep telling me how you did it.”

He drops your legs next to him and you wrap them around his waist as he bends down, “Archie was just plain fuckin’ dumb.”

Chris slides into you slow and deep, repeating his actions as he speaks, “He left his car unlocked, so I slid into the backseat.. waited for him, then when he finally came out, I stabbed him in the chest..” he groans, “Right over his heart.”

“Fuck.” You whine, “Did you say anything to him?”

“I told him to rot in hell.”

You moan at his words, tightening your legs, “F-fuck.”

Chris slides his hand up, laying it around your throat, “You know I’d never hurt you.. I could never hurt my girl.”

You lay your hand on his, encouraging him to squeeze harder, “I know.” You whisper out, a squeaked moan escaping your lips as his grip tightens.

“And then, Steven..” Chris lets out a chuckle, “That asshole basically did all the work for me.”

You focus on the mask above you, your lips parted as his thrust grow faster, “Caught him outside, yelling at someone on the phone.”

His thrusts slow down again, “He say me, thought I was playin’ around, so he came at me. I threw a punch, knocking him back. I asked him if he liked hitting women and the..”

His grip loosens from your throat and you gasp, “what?”

“He said he was going to kill you, so I knew I had no other choice but to take him out first..”

You reach up, pulling the mask off his face and tossing it to the ground, “Yeah, you did.” You pull him in for a heated kiss and his thrusts pick up.

“I ran.. towards him..” Chris explained while continuing to kiss you, “Knocked.. him over.. the guard.. rail.”

You nod, your arms wrapping around his neck as you moan, “Fuck, baby.”

“He smacked his head off a rock on the way down. He laid there pleading..” he chuckles, “Begging for me to help him, but I didn’t.”

“Tell me what you did, baby.” You look up at him, whimpers and quiet moans leaving your lips as he kisses up your neck to your ear, “I held his head under the water until he stopped moving.”

You drag your nails up and down his back, “So that’s why you were so weird about the cops earlier.”

He nods, “Yeah, I can’t get taken away from you. I’d go fucking crazy.”

“As if you already haven’t.” You smirk as he sits up and he tilts his head, “If loving you so much to the point of killing someone who touches you is crazy..” he smirks, “Then consider me fucking psycho, baby.”

His lips connect with yours before he pulls out, “Roll over for me.” He bites his lip as he watches you roll over onto your stomach.

He grips your hips, pulling them upward and he slides back into you. You moan into the pillow and Chris reaches down to pull it away, “Uh uh, I wanna hear how good I make you feel, baby.”

You let out a loud moan, pushing your hips back as he thrusts into you, “F-fuck, Chris.. baby.” You gasp, “I-I-“

You arch your back down, letting out a whine as you feel the cool metal of his blade drag down the line of your spine.

“You are so fucking beautiful.”

“So incredibly mine.”

“Yes, yes.” You pant out, “Y-Yours.. yours, all yours.”

He drops the knife and grips your hips, “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” His trusts pick up before he falls forward, his one hand resting by your head while his other arm wraps around you waist, “one more time, can you cum one more time for me, baby?”

“Y-yes.” You whimper out, attempting to turn your head to see him, “Yes, baby.”

He kisses over your shoulder, “I love you, so much, y/n.”

“I-I.. I love you, Chris.” You moan as you squeeze his cock, moaning out as he guides you through another high while listening to the moans he’s constantly pulling from you.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my girl.”

He rests his forward against hours as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, his groans low in your ear as his thrusts slow down.

He grabs the knife that’s next you, tossing it to the floor before he collapses onto the bed beside you.

He turns his head, giving you a slight smirk, “So.. I take it you’re not mad?”

You shake your head, moving up to lay your head on his chest, “In a sick, and twisted way.. I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead and you let out a sigh, “Are you still going to get the asshole who elbowed me?”

Chris nods, “Yes I am.”

“Good.” You lay your arm over his waist, “I wanna help.”

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Hi hello, thank you so much for reading! If you would like a Matt one, you know what to do ;) I love you so much, I will catch you in the next one! 🖤

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The halls of Hawkins High felt heavier the next morning, as if the walls themselves were mourning. News of Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers' murders had spread like wildfire before first period even started. Whispers followed Kimberly everywhere. Every locker slam made her flinch.

She found Steve by his locker, staring blankly at the inside door where a faded photo of him and Nancy still hung. His eyes were red-rimmed, jaw tight. When he noticed her, he tried to force a casual smile, but it cracked instantly.

"Hey, Kimmy..."

Without a word, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Steve stiffened for half a second, then hugged her back fiercely, burying his face in her shoulder. His breathing hitched.

"I know you guys weren't together anymore," Kimberly whispered, "but I also know you still cared about her. I'm so sorry, Steve."

Steve let out a shaky breath. "We fought the night before... stupid shit. I told her to be careful. I should've stayed with her. I should've—"

"You couldn't have known." She pulled back just enough to look at him. "None of us could."

He nodded, but the guilt in his eyes didn't fade. They stood like that for a long moment, two broken pieces trying to hold each other together while the rest of the school buzzed around them like nothing had changed.

Lunch came, but Kimberly had no appetite. More of her friends were dying, someone was targeting the teens of Hawkins, and no one knew who would be next.

She slipped out of the cafeteria early, needing air, needing to be anywhere but surrounded by gossip. The hallway was nearly empty; most kids were still eating. She turned a corner toward the side exit and froze.

Jason Carver stepped out from beside the trophy case, blocking her path. His letterman jacket looked too tight on his broad shoulders, fists clenched at his sides. His eyes were bloodshot, wild with grief and rage.

"Kimberly."

She took a step back. "Jason... I don't want to talk right now."

"Too fucking bad." He advanced, grabbing her upper arm hard enough that she winced. He shoved her back against the lockers, the metal rattling. "You're gonna tell me what the hell you said to Chrissy that night."

Kimberly's heart hammered. "Let go of me—"

"You talked her into dumping me," His voice cracked with fury. "Right before she died. You filled her head with shit about me, made her hate me. And now she's gone!" He slammed his other hand against the locker beside her head. "What did you say?!"

Tears stung her eyes. "I just told her she deserved better... Jason, you're hurting me. Please—"

"Better?" He laughed bitterly, leaning in closer. "I loved her. I would've done anything for her. And you... you tried to take her from me. She was mine."

His grip tightened painfully. Kimberly's breath came in short gasps. For a terrifying second, she was sure this was it—he was going to snap, just like he'd snapped on Chrissy.

"Get your hands off her!"

Eddie came sprinting down the hall, curls flying, eyes blazing. He shoved Jason hard, forcing him to release Kimberly. Jason stumbled back, glaring daggers at Eddie.

"Stay out of this, freak," Jason snarled.

Eddie positioned himself between them, arms spread protectively despite his fear. "Touch her again, and I swear to God, Carver, they'll be scraping you off the floor."

Jason's lip curled into a slow, dangerous smile. "Keep running your mouth, Munson. First Chrissy, now you're playing hero for her little best friend? Careful. People who get too close to this bitch tend to end up dead."

The threat hung in the air like smoke. Jason shot Kimberly one last venomous look, then stormed off down the hall, shoulders rigid.

The second he was gone, Kimberly's legs buckled. A small, broken cry escaped her as she slid down the lockers to the floor. Eddie dropped to his knees in front of her instantly.

"Hey, hey, Kimmy—don't cry," he said softly, voice cracking with worry. He cupped her face gently, thumbs brushing away the tears already spilling down her cheeks. "If you cry, then I'm gonna cry, and neither of us wants that. I look ugly when I cry. Trust me."

A watery laugh slipped out despite everything. Eddie grinned, relieved, and pulled her into a tight hug. "There she is. You're okay. I've got you."

After school, Eddie refused to let her walk home alone.

They ended up at the old quarry, sitting on the hood of his van with the doors open, music playing low from the radio. The sun was already dipping low, painting the sky in bruised purples and oranges. Kimberly hugged her knees to her chest, still shaken.

"You really think it's him?" Eddie asked quietly, passing her a warm can of Coke from the front seat.

Kimberly stared at the ripples on the water below. "I don't know anymore. He was so angry, Eddie. The way he grabbed me... it felt like he wanted to hurt me. And after what he said to me before Chrissy died..." She shook her head. "The timing is too perfect. She breaks up with him because of me, and then she's gone the same night?"

Eddie was quiet for a long moment, picking at the frayed hole in his jeans.

"I hate that I'm even saying this," he muttered, "but Carver's a prick. Always has been. But killing Chrissy? And Nancy and Jonathan? That's... that's next-level. Part of me still thinks this is something else."

Kimberly looked at him. "You don't believe it's just a normal killer, do you?"

Eddie gave a weak smile. "I don't know what I believe anymore. But I do know one thing—" He turned to face her fully. "I'm not letting that asshole near you again. Not alone. Okay?"

Kimberly studied his face. For once, there was no sarcasm, no theatrical flair. Just genuine worry, so she nodded. "Okay."

Eddie bumped her shoulder lightly. "Good. Because I've got a reputation to protect. Can't have the town freak failing at the whole 'damsel in distress' rescue thing."

She laughed softly, and for a few minutes the quarry felt almost peaceful. Eddie turned the music up a little and sang dramatically off-key to make her smile. It almost worked.

But as the sun finally disappeared, a chill settled over them. Eddie drove her home in silence, both of them glancing at the rearview mirror more than necessary.

"Lock your doors tonight," he said as she climbed out. "And if anything feels off, you call me. I don't care what time it is."

"I will," she promised as she got out of his van, then turned back to look through the open window. "Thank you, Eddie. For today."

He gave her a two-finger cheeky salute and waited until she was safely inside before driving off.

That night, the Munson trailer sat quiet under a pale moon. Eddie sprawled on the old couch in a faded Hellfire Club shirt, half-watching a cheesy slasher on the TV. His fingers drummed nervously on his knee. Every shadow in the trailer felt too long tonight.

A faint tapping noise came from the back hallway.

Eddie muted the TV. "Wayne?" No answer. He stood slowly, heart picking up speed, and crept down the narrow hall.

He stopped at the doorway to Wayne's room. Nothing. Then the tapping came again louder. He spun around.... just a tree branch scraping against the open window.

"Fuck," Eddie muttered, relief flooding him. He stepped inside and reached to close it.

A shadow moved in his peripheral vision.

He barely had time to gasp before a black-robed figure surged forward. The white Ghostface mask gleamed in the dim light, and the knife flashed as Eddie was knocked onto Wayne's bed.

"Jesus H. Christ!"

Eddie twisted desperately as the blade came down, stabbing into the mattress where his head had been a second earlier. He kicked out hard, catching the killer in the stomach and sending him stumbling back. The knife clattered to the floor.

He scrambled up, trying to throw punches, but the killer was stronger, faster. A brutal fist to the face split his lip. Another blow to the ribs dropped him to his knees. The killer grabbed him by the hair and slammed him into the wall, then snatched the knife again.

Eddie felt hot lines of pain across his arms and side as the blade slashed. Blood soaked his shirt. In a desperate move, he snatched the heavy bedside lamp and swung it with everything he had. It cracked against the killer's masked head, knocking Ghostface to the side.

And he didn't wait. He bolted through the trailer, knocking over chairs, bursting out the front door with a raw scream.

"Help!"

Blood dripped from his fingers as he sprinted across the lot toward the neighbor's trailer, where a light still burned. He pounded on the door with both fists.

"Help! Please, someone—!"

Behind him, slow footsteps crunched on gravel. Eddie looked back in horror.

Ghostface walked steadily toward him, knife in hand, casually wiping Eddie's blood off the blade with the edge of his robe. The mask tilted slightly, almost curious.

"Fucking help me!" Eddie screamed, slamming his fist on the door again. "Open the goddamn door!"

The neighbor's porch light flickered once.

Then went dark.

The phone rings loudly, its regular annoying metallic tone. Suzie sighs, picking it up and placing the receiver to her ear. “Hello?” She asks.

A deep-voiced man on the other side replies. “Hello?”

Suzie furrows her brows, confused. “Yes?”

“Who is this?” The man asks, sounding confused.

Suzie smiles. Probably dialled a wrong number. “Who are you trying to reach?”

The man waits a beat, before asking “What number is this?”

Suzie fidgets with the cord, growing annoyed. “What number are you trying to reach?”

“I don’t know.” The man replies.

“Well, I think you have the wrong number.” Suzie sighs.

“Do I?”

Suzie shrugs as if the man can see her. “It happens. Take it easy.” She places the phone back down, and doesn’t even get three steps before it’s ringing obnoxiously again. She groans, picking it up. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry, I guess I dialled the wrong number.” The same man says chillingly.

Suzie scoffs. “So why’d you dial it again?” She’s too smart to deal with this man’s games.

“To apologise.” The man says.

Suzie squints in confusion. What is he playing at? “You’re forgiven. Bye now.”

Just as she’s about to hang up, the man stops her. “Wait, wait. Don’t hang up.” He says.

“What?” Suzie asks more to herself than anyone else.

“I want to talk to you for a second.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “They’ve got 900 numbers for that. See ya.” And with that, she hangs up, sighing.

Suzie walks to the kitchen, very clear plan for the night laid out in front of her. She’s gonna make popcorn, watch a scary movie, maybe invite Dustin around. She turns on the stove, placing the Jiffy Pop package over the flame and taking off the wrapping. She sighs happily. Her favourite food of all time is popcorn, whether it be gourmet or Jiffy Pop. Just as she tears it off, the phone rings.

Reluctant and annoyed, she picks it up. “Hello.” She says for the third time that night, snappier than usual.

“Why don’t you want to talk to me?” It’s none other than the man. The man who won’t quit harassing her!

She grabs salt off the counter to sprinkle on the popcorn. “Who is this?”

“Tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine.” He snarls cryptically.

She rolls her eyes. This dude is such an idiot. “I don’t think so.”

“What’s that noise?” He asks as she shakes the Jiffy Pop pan.

“Popcorn.” She replies.

“You’re making popcorn?” He asks, almost in disbelief.

“Uh huh.”

“I only eat popcorn in the movies.”

She’s tempted to reply with “Who asked?”, but she holds the snark in. “I’m getting ready to watch a video.”

“Really? What?” He asks, seemingly intrigued.

“Oh, just some scary movie.” She says lightly, making her way over to the kitchen island and fiddling with a knife in the block.

“You like scary movies?” He asks.

She smiles. Maybe he wasn’t all bad to talk to. “Uh huh!”

“What’s your favourite scary movie?” He drawls.

“Uh, I dunno.” She says, thinking. When you watch this many scary movies, you begin to lose track of your favourite.

“You have to have a favourite.” He demands. “What comes to mind?”

She thinks, picking a random one off the top of her head. “Um…Halloween. You know, the one with the guy in the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters.”

“Oh yeah.” He says it more as a statement than a question.

“What’s yours?” Suzie asks.

“Guess.”

Suzie rounds the corner of the counter, grabbing her videos from the tabletop. “Nightmare on Elm Street?”

“Is that the one where the guy had knives for fingers?” The man inquires.

Suzie walks down the hallway, aimlessly. “Yeah, Freddy Krueger.”

“Freddy. That’s right.” The man says as if recalling an old memory. “I liked that movie. It was scary.”

Suzie tests the locks on the doors, making sure they’re working. “Well, the first one was, but the rest suck.”

“So, you got a boyfriend?” He asks, completely changing the subject.

Suzie decides not to tell him about Dustin. She doesn’t know why she does that, but it feels right. “Why, you wanna ask me out on a date?”

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“You never told me your name.” What is it with this guy and changing the subject?

“Why do you want to know?” Suzie says, walking through the living room and placing the videos on top of her TV.

“So I know who I’m looking at.”

Suzie freezes, blood running cold. Looking at? “What did you say?” She forces out, voice barely a whisper, fear stealing all her volume.

A dog barks in the distance as he answers. “I want to know who I’m talking to.” He puts emphasis on the word “talking”.

“That’s not what you said.” Suzie says firmly, trying to disguise her fear as suspicion.

“What do you think I said?” The man asks playfully.

Suzie turns on the backyard light, squinting her eyes against the glare. Empty.

“What?” The guy asks again when she doesn’t answer. “Hello?”

Suzie scoffs. This guy is just bluffing, but her heart still feels like it’s being hit with a defibrillator. “Look, I gotta go.”

“Wait. But I thought we were going to go out?” The man demands.

“Well, no. I don’t think so.” Her voice shakes as she locks the back door.

Suddenly, the man shouts. “Don’t hang up on me!”

But Suzie does just that, pressing the button to end the call.

She walks into the dining room, trying to steady her breathing, when the unthinkable happens.

The phone rings. “Damn.” She whispers to herself, fear climbing up her chest. “Yes?” She asks, praying it isn’t the man.

“I told you not to hang up on me.” He growls.

She blinks back tears, sighing. “What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“Well, dial someone else, okay?” She hangs up, walking to the kitchen to get her popcorn while wiping away tears. The phone rings and she freezes, heart skipping a beat. “Listen, idiot-“ She yells into the receiver.

“No, you listen! You hang up on me again I’ll gut you like a fish, understand?” He yells back aggressively. He laughs maniacally.

Suzie wipes away another tear, the fear creeping further and further, almost at her throat in a scream. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“More of a game, really.” He growls. “Can you handle that…four eyes?”

The fear bursts then, and she screams. How does he know she wears glasses! Slipping in her socks, she sprints from door to door, locking and relocking, locking and relocking, tears smearing her makeup.

When she gets to the front door, the man speaks again. “Can you see me?”

Her eyes, blurry with tears, scan the front porch from the window. Nothing. “Listen!” She yells, voice shaking. “I am two seconds away from calling the police!”

“They’d never make it in time.” He sneers. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere.”

She hates that he’s right. The nearest police station is 20 minutes away. “What do you want?” She cries.

“To see what your insides look like.”She doubles over, crying loudly, screaming. With shaking hands, she hangs up.

But not even a second later, the doorbell rings, and she screams. “W-who’s there?”

No answer.

“Who’s there!” She asks again. “I’m calling the police!” She yells.

But before she can dial 911, the phone rings again, and she screams, voice raw. She answers, putting the phone to her ear.

“You should never say who’s there. Don’t you watch scary movies? It’s a death wish.” The man. “You might as well come out here to investigate a strange noise or something.”

“Look.” She says between cries. “You’ve had your fun now so I think you’d better just leave or else!”

“Or else what?” The playful tone to his voice is beyond terrifying.

“Or else my boyfriend will be here any second, and he’ll be mad when he finds out!” She squeezes her eyes shut.

“I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend?”

“I lied!” She shrieks. “I do have a boyfriend and he’ll be here any second so you better be gone!”

“Sure.” He says, unbelieving.

“I swear!” She cries out. “HE GETS IN FIGHTS AT SCHOOL AND HE WINS AND HE’LL BEAT THE HELL OUT OF YOU!”

“I’m getting scared!” He snarls sarcastically. “I’m shaking in my boots.”

“So you’d better just leave…” She whispers weakly, crying too hard to speak.

The man laughs. “His name wouldn’t be…Dustin, would it?”

Suzie freezes, heart dropping, palms growing sweaty. “H-how do you know his name?”

“Turn on the patio lights…again.”

She doubles over, crying, screaming, praying for the man to leave her alone. But too scared to disobey, she turns on the light.

And there is Dustin, bound to a chair, duct tape over his mouth, bleeding from multiple different wounds. His Hellfire club shirt is dark red and his curls are matted with blood. “Oh god!” She screams, unlocking the door.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” Warns the man, and she immediately locks the door back up, fear getting the better of her.

“Where are you! Where are you!” She screams, pounding on the glass door.

“Guess!” The man says playfully.

“P-Please don’t hurt him…”

“That all depends on you.”

“Why are you doing this?” She cries, fiddling with her brown curls.

He answers immediately. “I want to play a game.”

“No!” She shakes her head roughly.

He shouts, “Then he dies right now!”

She pounds on the glass again, heart hurting. “No! No!”

“Which is it?” He snaps.

Dustin’s eyes are full of fear. Pure, raw fear.

She makes up her mind, shaking. “Well, what kind of game?”

“Turn off the light. You’ll see what kind of game.”

There’s nothing she wants to do less than turn off the lights, but it’s either do that or Dustin dies.

“Just do it!” He screams at her.

Dustin screams muffled protests at her, but what else can she do. She doesn’t want to die! And in a quick, life changing movement, the lights are flicked off.

“Here’s how we play.” The voice starts.

Suzie slides down the wall on her back, crying too hard to think straight.

“I ask a question. If you get it right, Dustin lives.” He continues calmly.

She unplugs a cord, the lamp behind her going out. “Please don’t do this…”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“P-please…”

“It’s an easy category.”

“Please!” Suzie pleads again.

“Movie trivia.” He reveals. I’ll even give you a warm up question.”

“Don’t do this, I can’t!” Suzie blubbers. The fear has climbed all over her body, jumping and pounding and colouring outside the lines.

“Name the killer in Halloween.” He demands, ignoring Suzie’s protests.

“No!” Screams Suzie, too scared to answer.

“Come on! It’s your favourite scary movie, remember?” He reminds her. “He had a white mask, he stalked the babysitters…”

“I don’t know!”

“Come on, yes you do!”

“No, please!” Somewhere in the back of Suzie’s mind, she knows that pleading won’t work, but she’s too scared to admit that reality.

“What’s his name?”

Steadying her breath is an impossible feat by now.

“Dustin’s counting on you.” He threatens.

“Michael!” She cries out. “Michael Myers!”

“Yes! Very good.” He praises. “Now for the real question.”

“No!” Suzie screams out, in a ball on the floor.

The man tuts. “But you’re doing so well? You can’t stop now.”

Suzie chokes a sob out. “Just leave us alone!”

“Then answer the question.” His voice is rough. “Same category.”

“Please stop.” She sobs.

“Name the killer in Friday the 13th.” He demands.

Suzie’s eyes widen. She knows this! “Jason!” She screams at the receiver. “Jason! Jason!”

He clicks his tongue. “I’m sorry. That’s the wrong answer.”

Her heart sinks to her stomach. “No it’s not! No it’s not, it was Jason!”

“Afraid not! No way.”

She stands and grits her teeth, fear mixing with rage. “Listen, it was Jason! I saw that movie 20 god-damn times!”

“Then you should know Jason’s mother, Mrs Voorhees, was the original killer! Jason didn’t show up until the sequel. I’m afraid that was a wrong answer.”

Suzie drops back down to her knees. “You tricked me.”

“Lucky for you, there’s a bonus round.” He says happily. “But poor Dustin, I’m afraid he’s out!”

When the patio lights come back on, there’s Dustin.

Stomach slit open, insides pouring out.

Suzie screams pounding on the door.

The man laughs over the phone. “Hey. We aren’t finished yet.”She puts the phone back to her ear shakily.

“Final question.” He states. “Are you ready?”

“Please…” She whispers, losing hope. “Please leave me alone.”

“Answer the question and I will.” He says simply. “What door am I at?”

She bites her tongue to hold back a cry. “What?”

“There are two main doors to your house.” He explains. “A front door and the patio doors. If you answer correctly, you’ll live. Very simple.”

Suzie grabs an envelope blade off the nearby desk, white-knuckling the handle. “Don’t do this! I can’t! I won’t!”

“Your call.” He says slowly.

Suddenly, a patio chair flies through the doors, glass smashing over Suzie. She screams, running as fast as she can, socked feet getting cut on broken glass. She stops when she gets to the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the knife block, and barely noticing the on-fire Jiffy Pop.

She backs away from the counter silently, trying to get a good look at the hallway.

And when she does, she sees a cloaked figure sprinting through her house.

Her breath catches, and she holds back a scream. She’s gonna live. She’s determined.

Silently, she tilts the handle on the kitchen door, closing herself outside the house, praying the cloaked man doesn’t hear the door click shut.

After catching whatever breath she can, she slowly, carefully, peers around to look through the door.

And there’s the man. In a black cloak, a ghost face mask, running through the kitchen. A tear slips down her cheek.

There’s lights in the distance. Headlights, she notices with a start. She wouldn’t dare yell out to the car, so she prays silently that they’ll swerve onto her lot, that they’ll be her saviour. She peers back through the doors, and the man runs by. She holds her breath, before rushing past the door and dropping to her hands and knees, crawling beneath the windows. Slowly, slowly, she stands.

And becomes face to face with the man.

She screams holding the knife up, and he grabs her wrist, pulling her inside. But before he can, she smashes him in the face with the phone, breaking free and sprinting across her back lawn to the car. To safety.

She pauses by Dustin’s body, choking out another sob, her terrified eyes meeting his wide, staring ones.

She keeps running, but before she can get to the car, there’s a force on her body, pushing her to the ground.

The man jumps out the window, tackling her.

She screams, getting up, running as fast as she can away from the cloaked man.

Then there’s a hand around her mouth.

And she screams against his gloved palm as the knife sinks into her chest, cutting through flesh like it’s a slice of cake.

He twists the knife before pulling it out, dropping Suzie to the ground.

She cries, harder than she’s ever cried, the blood gushing out from her chest to her collarbone to her neck with every pump of her heart. Her still beating heart.

As he goes to bring the knife down again, Suzie screams, hitting it out of his hand and across the lawn.

The car is parked now, but she doesn’t have much time to think about it before the man’s hands are around her neck, her vision going spotty. She chokes out cries and breaths, and somehow, she musters up the strength to kick the man off her body.

Her parents get out of the car, walking up the steps, talking about something or other.

Suzie’s eyes widen, as she flips over onto her chest, standing up and running across the grass. “Mom!” She tries to scream, but it comes out faint, tortured.

There’s a hand on her back and she falls to the deck, the Ghost-masked man looming over her, the loss of blood making her feel woozy.

As he raises the knife, she places a hand to his mask, tugging it off.

And the knife comes down.

“Suzie?” Her father asks, inside the destroyed house. Fire in the kitchen, broken windows, door ajar.

Her mother runs into the kitchen in her heels, trying to extinguish the fire. “God, oh god!” She throws the Jiffy Pop in the sink. “Suzie!” She screams. “Suzie!” She runs out of the kitchen, almost colliding with her husband who grabs her shoulders. “Where is she?” She demands as if he has the answers.

“Call the police.” He says frantically.

“What?” Sobs Suzie’s mother. She picks up the phone, dialling 911, but it doesn’t ring.

The phone’s already in use.

“Suzie, baby?” Her mother asks the phone.

Her father runs upstairs, screaming “Suzie! Suzie are you up here? Suzie!”

A groan sounds from the phone, and her mother screams. “She’s here! Suzie’s here!”

When her father puts it to his ear, it cuts out. But he believes her. “Get in the car.” He says, voice shaking. “Drive down to the Mackenzies.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “No…not my daughter…”

“Just go!”

“Not my daughter!” She sobs.

He opens the door for her with shaking hands. “Call the police.”

But as soon as she gets outside, the world shatter and she screams.

Hanging from a tree, is Suzie. Gutted, Insides dragging on the floor beneath her, neck broken, blood pooling, eyes wide and staring.