Bound by Teeth and Strings

Chapter 1 - Chase

Everyone was dead.

The cabin smelled of rot and death. Even when you closed your eyes, you couldn't stop the images of your friend's mutilated bodies flashing behind your eyelids. One by one, they were slaughtered. You hadn't had the time to see who was doing all of this. All you saw was the hatchet embedded in John's head when he made the mistake of opening the front door. All because of a strange scratching sound coming from it. You had all thought it was just a random animal, maybe a little racoon. Oh, how wrong you were.

This was supposed to just be a fun road trip with your friends. Your first stop was this cabin you had all pitched in to rent. Sure, now you knew just how cliche it was—a group of young adults renting out and staying the night at a cabin in the woods. But at the time it sounded so nice! Picturesque even. Now, though, the irony certainly wasn't lost on you.

You had all been having such a good time, playing music and eating pizza you had gotten earlier on your way there. Then the power went out some time in the late evening, around when the sun was setting. One of you tried to check around for a possible backup generator, but to no avail. You figured one night without power wouldn't hurt. You could always charge your phones in the car if you needed to. It wasn't a big deal. It was the middle of autumn, so the temperatures were comfortable. But that damn sound—that damn scratching. And John... that big lug of an idiot just had to go check, box of crackers in hand for what he thought to be some rodent. That's when shit really hit the fan.

And now you were hiding. Your lungs were heaving with panic and adrenaline, and your heart was beating so loudly it was almost deafening. Your hands clasped over your mouth, trying to keep the sound of your breathing as muffled as you could. It was so quiet—so incredibly quiet. It hadn't always been this eerily silent, though.

Just minutes ago, the walls echoed with the screams and yells of your friends as some tried to fight back against whoever was doing this. Cries and begs for mercy when those who hid like you did were found and dragged out. But now everything was quiet, and you weren't dumb. You knew what it meant. You had to force yourself to resist jumping every time you heard the sound of a creak or what you thought might be a foot step. It was only a matter of time before you were dragged out, too. Before you were found.

You were hiding in the attic, tucked away out of sight in a crevice between the foundations of the roof. It smelled so heavily of dust and possibly mildew, you almost choked on it when you first came up here. But right now, that was hardly of concern to you. You could hear it. The sound of a voice. As if they were right beneath where you stood, with only the layer of wooden flooring separating you from your would be death. You could barely make out what they were saying, but you could tell it was the sound of a man's voice. It sounded like they were talking to someone. If they were, you couldn't hear anyone else's voice. Though that didn't mean much, there could still very well be multiple people. Or just the one.

Your curiosity got the better of you as you kneeled down lower until you were on your hands and knees. You pressed your ear against the wood floor, concentrating on trying to catch what they were saying.

"N-no...not all...fucking f-find them...n-nagging Tim!"

It was still hard to capture the full sentence, but you were able to catch a few words. They had to be talking to someone, or rather arguing, if the irritation in their voice was anything to go by. If there was more than one, that meant you really were royally screwed. You already knew there was no way you could fight some hatchet-wielding psycho head-on. Not without some way of defending yourself. So fighting more than one of them? No. If you were going to survive somehow, then you would have to find some way to sneak out. Some way to get to the car. Get the hell away from here and find help!