Drama, mystery, romance and blood all tossed into a blender. Welcome to Riverside.
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A horror movie, muted, plays on the TV. The glare reflects from the glass of the open window ahead of it, the drapes blowing in with the heavy breeze. The metal tray sits in front of it, the syringe still half full of the fluid she had injected Garrett with earlier.
"Oh my God..." Shocked, Hannah stands stiff with the plates still trembling in her hands. She's stumbles forward, setting them down at the foot of the bed as she glances around the room. There's no way he could have got up and walked on his own. No way. "Garrett?!"
Noticing the window, she immediately runs toward it, shoving the tray back into the corner of the room where it belongs. She leans through the window seal, worriedly glancing around the bleak front yard.
Across the street, a small family gathers around an SUV as they open the trunk and begin to fill the car with luggage.
"Garrett?!" She screams, leaning further out as she looks around street. An older man, probably the father of the family, turns her way but pays her little to no attention, quickly shrugging her off as he turns back to the car. She pulls herself back inside, shaking her head as she continues to look through the open window.
He has to be in here. In his condition—there is no way he could have gotten far.
Hannah reaches over to grab the window and pulls it shut. When she does, she catches a sudden quick glimpse of a black reflection swiftly moving behind her and she jumps, spinning around, and is grabbed by the throat before she can let out the faintest scream.
The killer tightens his grip as he shoves her up against the window with both of his gloved hands, his dark eyes piercing through the thin slits in the pale white mask tucked in under his hood.
She grabs at his hands, trying to pry them from her neck. He tightens his grip and she opens her mouth, desperately attempting to gasp for air as she feels her throat slowly being crushed.
Her eyes gaze down and widen even more at the sight of the large hunting knife tucked in under his belt. She looks over to the left to see the tray with the syringe and medical vials.
A crack splits down the glass as he shoves her harder against the window. He continues to stare at her as she lets her left hand drop to her side, beginning to feel nauseous. Everything is starting to blur. His grip tightens even more and she feels her throat close up completely, her lungs shriveling as she makes another helpless attempt to breathe.
From her free hand, her fingers extend as they lightly brush against the thick glass of the needle's barrel.
Slowly, reality begins to slip from her as the room starts to fade black. Her mind struggles to even register the pain at this point. All she can feel is her heart rate dropping to a slow, steady throb. The fingers wrapped around her neck beginning to tremble. Something cold in her palm. Her eyes gaze back down to see she had managed to pull the syringe up into her hand.
Without hesitation, she grunts as she swings her arm and stabs him in the upper thigh. He lets go of her neck and, before she can inject it, backhands her with his right hand. She lands on the bed, the plates of food falling to the floor and shattering. The killer glances down at the needle and slowly pulls it from his thigh as she struggles to get up from the sheets.
The killer climbs on top of her, pinning her down. She tries to kick him, but cannot manage to move her leg under his weight. Slowly he lifts the syringe in the air and she screams, reaching over to grab something—anything—to hit him with. Before she has the chance, his hand sways downward and the three inch needle pierces into her right eye. She squirms, screaming hysterically, as he pushes the plunger down with his thumb, injecting the liquid.
She manages to squeeze out from underneath one of his legs and backs up to the head of the bed. She reaches over to grab the lamp on the night stand and pulls it, unplugging it from the wall, as she swings it into his head. The ceramic shell of the lamp shatters and the masked madman falls to the floor with a thud.
Still screaming, she reaches for the empty syringe that hangs from her eye and slowly pulls the needle out from her eye. Her eye is still intact but submerged in a small puddle of blood that fills her socket.
She jumps up from the bed, holding a palm against her eye, and quickly steps over him. He squirms around as he gets to his feet, feeling his head to ensure the mask is still on, and quickly turns her way.
She steps out into the hallway, feeling the drug entering her bloodstream immediately. Her arms begin to tingle as she stumbles forward, hitting the wall and smearing blood against an old family portrait of a father, wife, and two boys. She uses the wall to guide her forward into the living room and pushes herself off of it as she aims for the front door.
As she almost reaches the front door her legs quickly begin to go numb. She falls to the floor with a thud and cries. Slowly, she lifts her head up and claws at the floor, pulling herself closer to the door. She reaches up for the handle as she killer slowly steps out of the hallway behind her.
Barely able to reach it, she twists it and manages to pull the door open. The family is still across the street, loading up the last of their luggage into the SUV.
As Hannah crawls out onto the porch, she makes an attempt to scream but all that comes out is a weak gasp as she chokes on her own voice. She aims for the front steps, tears—infused with blood—rushing down her cheeks.
The killer, now holding his signature hunting knife, suddenly reaches down to grab her by the ankle and pulls her back. She claws helplessly at the wooden planks on the porch, her nails carving into the wood and one even ripping off, as he drags her back inside the house.
