!!A WARNING THAT THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SERIOUS DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE, VIOLENCE AND DEATH THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE THING!! PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION ⚠
Turns out taking a nap after watching your friend kill a man did not work as well as you hoped it would. You spent the rest of the evening hunched over the toilet bowl, a towel on the tile beside you as you dry heaved like a cat.
It was nothing less of a complete mental breakdown, the reality of the situation finally sinking in.
Your best friend and Starbucks coworker burned a man alive.
You couldn't even picture her response to it, how she would try to explain why and when. Your hands were violently shaking as you wiped your mouth, finally sitting up after what felt like hours. The contents of your lunch and breakfast sat below you as you wretched again, forcing your eyes away from the scene.
The rest of the apartment was dark, Bailey was obviously still at Riley's place, probably still blissfully unaware of the whole thing, you envied her. You envied anyone who didn't sit at an icy bus stop at one thirty in the afternoon, watching someone they thought they knew set fire to a whole goddamn house. A migraine was coming on.
Your legs felt like they would give out any second as you walked into the kitchen, flipping on the lights and opening cupboards to try and find the medicine Bailey kept for her study headaches. The bright pink sticky note stared you down as you clumsily navigated the room, the sweet message left by your roommate feeling like a toothpick to the heart. You wondered if Riley felt any guilt.
You dismissed the thought as soon as it arrived in your mind, there was no way Riley didn't feel bad about it. You saw the way her knuckles went white and the reflective tear streaks that stained her cheeks. She definitely did what she thought was right, which made you consider a lot of fucked up things.
What situation got so bad that it justified cold blooded murder? You thought back to the video again, as much as your body begged you not to.
"You ruined our lives Dennis!! You murdered your friends, WE TRUSTED YOU!"
Obviously it seemed like this dude, Dennis, did his own fair share of sinning that night. Possibly worse than Riley's. Although after seeing his wet and drooping eye sockets you couldn't even imagine what was worse.
You grabbed a cup of water and tipped down the little red ibuprofen pills you managed to get ahold of. It wasn't the strongest, but it could at least tide you over till you stopped vomiting up everything that went in your stomach. Your phone rang again as you finished swallowing.
With a longer than necessary pause you stared in the direction of your things, your bag, phone, and jacket all laying in a pile on the couch. The ringing was muffled so you knew it was buried somewhere in the depths of the mild mess.
One deep inhale later you placed your cup down with a 'tap!' and walked over to the couch. You yanked the jacket away and shoved your bag to the corner of the sofa, finally uncovering your dingy little phone.
Seven texts from Bailey, three from Riley's number, and one missed call from an unknown number. You didn't bother checking the number, or calling it back. It was most likely some scammer trying to contact you about your car's extended warranty or some shit.
You decided to check Bailey's texts first, maybe it would help calm your jumbled nerves. Besides, she was most likely out of her mind with worry at this point. You never explained why you suddenly went ghost silent, or why you didn't show up to Riley's place.
(Y/N)? Hey are you ok?
Sent at 5:34 PM
You're worrying us, did something happen?
Sent at 6:00 PM
Were you sent a video from Riley's number?
Sent at 7:12 PM
(Y/N), I don't know what to do. This
is way more serious than I thought. Can
you please call me as soon as you see these?
Sent at 7:20 PM
This is all a big misunderstanding,
you have to hear Riley out. Seriously, call
me.
Sent at 7:27 PM
This is so fucked. Are you doing ok?
Don't respond to anything you're sent by
those freaks, its not safe.
Sent at 7:39 PM
We're still at Riley's place. If you see these just
come over. We have a lot to explain and
discuss. Please hear her out.
We love you, (Y/N).
Sent at 7:53 PM
You didn't know you were crying until the tears hit your illuminated screen, you swiped at them with your thumb and wiped your cheeks. It hurt some sweet part of your heart, hearing how upset the two of them were. Bailey was right, you should hear Riley out, you shouldn't jump to conclusions.
The intrusive thoughts swam in your head as you re-read the last text, 'What if this was a trick? What if when you got to the apartment they slit your throat and left you behind a seven eleven?' No, it was irrational for you to think like that. You had only met Riley three months ago, but there was no way she was capable, at least not twice. You had to get both sides of the story.
You dreaded the next three texts, the ones sent from Riley's stolen phone. It made your stomach churn, seeing such vile words underneath the bubbly photo of the blonde. You felt like you could vomit again as you swiped to the new messages.
If you know what's good for you then
you should keep your distance.
Sent at 4:34 PM
Your friends are kinda fucking
insane. You must feel like shit.
Sent at 5:57 PM
why wont u answer!!?? :((((
do u want us to come over there
and help u?? :D i promise it wont
hurt that muschhhh!!!
Sent at 6:26 PM
What the fuck were these bastards playing at? The first text was the most formal, seeming more like a good natured warning with a hint of threat. The second was just fucking stupid and it made you want to punch something, what a bitch. The third confused you, it was like it was written by a happy-go-lucky child who just got a new toy, not a creepy ass stalker who obviously wanted you dead. Nonetheless they all made you squirm, goosebumps raised on the flesh of your arms.
No, it didn't matter what they said, you trusted Bailey and Riley more than them. You had already made up your mind, you would get your shit together and go over to Riley's. Talk this whole fucking thing out so you could calm the fuck down.
You didn't change out of your warm fuzzy pajama pants, deciding they would be enough to shield you from the cold. You did ditch your call of duty shirt though, replacing it with a thick purple sweater and your standard winter jacket over the top. Ah yes, the peak of fashion. You were already wearing soft socks so you jammed your feet into your snow boots, not bothering to lace them. If you tripped and slammed your face into the ground that would be the least of your problems.
This whole situation was obviously fucking with your head.
You checked the time on your phone quickly, 8:46 PM. You sucked in a breath and stuffed it into your jacket pocket, you only had about an hour before the buses stopped running. With as much speed as you could manage you sorted through your bag and pulled out your black gloves, slipping them on and flexing your fingers in the fuzzy material. A couple joints in your fingers popped and you winced at the noise, your mind wandering back to the exposed bones that peeked out of red and shining skin, aflame with orange and yellow.
You grabbed your keys out of the bag next, flipping the small golden house key in between your clothed fingers. As you watched it glint in the faint living room light your thoughts drifted to the whole 'stalker' thing.
It was weird that Riley would be stalked by anyone but the police, especially considering her crime. It brought to question how she never got caught, somewhere in your mind it nagged at you that she probably had to go back to bury-- No, you would get nowhere productive thinking about the specifics without Riley explaining it herself. It would just make your migraine worsen and your hopes sink.
On the subject of stalkers though, you did head back into the kitchen and yank open the silverware drawer by the dishwasher, sifting through the array of silver utensils. Finally you found the smallest and sharpest knife, the kind you would use to cut meat off of a Thanksgiving turkey, the kind that had a smooth edge, obviously sharpened. It was a Bailey thing to make sure all the knives were sharpened.
Maybe you shouldn't walk around in your complex with a knife though, especially not out at night on the street. You didn't exactly want to be arrested for looking like a murder meth addict. So like with your phone you hid it away, this time up your sleeve, blade resting against the sleeve of your sweater and the handle sitting nicely at the edge of your palm, ready to be shoved into someone's throat at a moment's notice.
Sure, you weren't super keen on slicing someone's throat open, but there were a few murderous stalkers on the loose, probably looking to do something much worse.
You raised a hand to your neck, tracing a faint line across the base and shivering, your fingers curling around the weapon handle a little too tight. God, you didn't even want to imagine that.
Finally you unlocked your apartment door and stepped out into the heated hallway of your complex, the laces of your winter boots dragging on the dirty green carpet as you turned and locked the door. You slipped your keys into your other pocket and steeled yourself to walk briskly down the stone stairs and down to the ground lobby.
There was no one down there when you jumped off the last step, so you rubbed your sweating palms on your fluffy pants and walked out the front doors, entering the cruel atmosphere of North Carolina. It was fucking freezing, snow lightly covering the sidewalk, the streets already salted.
It was a short walk to the bus stop, and you tried to ignore the weight of the knife in your dominant hand, the weight of possible harm, or in the worst case, death. You blinked hard and sped up, seeing the lit up canopy of the bus stop a little distance away.
"Ex-excuse me?"
You nearly shit yourself, eyes wide as you turned around, the handle of the blade falling more securely into your palm, ready to attack in defense.
Speed-walking closer was a tall person, so much taller you had to look up to see them. Although you couldn't really make out their features in the dim street lights and the hoodie they were wearing over their head. Then they stopped in front of you, still concealed.
They looked down at you and you audibly gasped, your terrified expression being reflected back at you in a warped orange mirror, skiing goggles. They had a mask pulled over their mouth so no part of their face could be seen.
"Hell-hello there! I-I wa-was -fuck- wondering i-if this-sss was yours?"
You couldn't move, you couldn't even speak as the strange man stared you down behind his big orange goggles. His stutter was accompanied by a harsh jerk of his shoulder, before it rolled behind, his fingers on his right hand tapping wildly on his palm.
Before you could wrangle the courage to ask him what he was talking about he raised the arm you didn't notice he was hiding behind his back. What you saw next almost made your knees collapse beneath you.
A fucking head.
That's what he held up in his left hand, his gloved hands dangling the horrible thing by the stringy hair it had rooted into its scalp. Wait a fucking minute.
As he waved the bloody thing around you saw the face clearly in the yellow light, wide drooping eyes filled with dead horror, pieces and chunks of light brown hair falling around its face, lips torn and showing a mouthful of broken teeth and a missing tongue. One ear was missing and the place where it had been hacked from the body was jagged, the bones from the neck jutting out in stark white as dried flesh fell onto the snow and sunk. A splitting crack in the skull had pink brain falling out, fresh and warm, melting the snow as it fell.
Lia didn't show up for work and now you knew why.
You couldn't scream, nothing would leave your mouth. Before you could actually process what was being shoved into your face, the head of your dead manager, you let the knife slip out into your palm. Fight or flight kicked in and your body chose both, shooting forward and plunging the sharp blade into the man's stomach, causing him to drop the head. You didn't admire your work as you let your hold of the weapon go, turning with as much speed as you could manage and darting. You untied laces flew as you slipped and slid through the snow, running as fast as your legs could take you.
You heard high-pitched screeching laughter behind you, the kind you would hear in a thriller film, the kind that got you killed.
Once you reached the bus stop you bent over and let the water and medicine from before projectile out of your mouth, hot tears streaming down your face and melting the ice below you. As your stomach protested in agony you dropped to your hands and knees and heaved loudly into the street, back arching like a Halloween cat decoration.
In between dry coughs and spitting you looked behind you, only there was nothing there. No sign of the man or the head. A part of you screamed that you were delusional, imaging this in a form of guilt and fear. But the knife was no longer up your sleeve and you still could smell the fresh scent of metal and iron, the scent of rotting meat. The kind of smell described in horror novels, even though those graphic fictional descriptions were fucking nothing compared to the real thing. Nothing.
A sob ripped through the silent night air, you stayed on your knees as the water from the ice and snow melted though your gloves, making your hands go numb.
This was it, he was going to appear behind you and smash your brains in, put a sharp blade through your skull just like Lia and spill your guts all over the road. You were going to die.
Yet nothing came, you sat on the wet concrete for too long to keep track of, and nothing came. No sickening crunch of a bone being crushed into a million pieces, no squelch of wet and hot skin being split open. None. You were alone again, alone with the vision of a young woman's head staring at you with some sort of 'beyond-the-grave' plea.
Avenge me. Bust this fuckers' kneecaps and send him hurling into a moving car.
But you couldn't, you couldn't even do that. And now you had nothing to vomit at the memory, nothing but tears and snot anymore. The most you could do was stick a stupid knife into his stomach, and you knew he would live. You bit the inside of your cheek so hard that blood flooded your taste buds, making you heave again, this time crimson fluid falling out and making a fucked up watercolor painting in the wet weather.
You wanted to scream, to gouge your eyes out, maybe slam your head into the asphalt and forget everything. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Now was not the time to sit on the sidewalk and hyperventilate though, any moment one of those fucks would decide they had enough entertainment and you would be done-zo. You gathered yourself as much as you could.
Taking shelter in the bus stop area you took a seat on the metal bench and kept your eyes staring down at the ground. Your knees ached from when you threw yourself onto the ground, your pants and gloves soaked and soggy, it was an uncomfortable feeling all around.
Your hands shook as you slowly removed your grossly wet gloves, letting the material fall into your lap as you clenched your hands together, trying to ease the wild shaking. It wasn't much use, the taste of acidic bile and iron on your tongue just heightened the feeling of absolute dread you were experiencing. It was so bad that your knees bounced frantically and if felt like there was a worm crawling under your skin, making you shiver uncontrollably.
You remembered Bailey saying something about breathing exercise whenever you felt like this, when you were gasping for air and it felt like your lungs were collapsing.
Deep breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven, exhale for eight.
Again.
Repeat.
Once more.
You didn't stop shaking completely but you suddenly felt a little better, like you weren't going to be jumped and killed. You ran a hand through your hair and laughed shakily, the bus would be there any second now. The last thing you wanted was to look like a crazy person, otherwise the driver might leave you stranded in the dark.
Covering your face with your cold hands you exhaled, the heat of your breath having a slight calming effect as more salty tears slipped through your lashes.
It was ok, everything would be ok. Riley and Bailey would call the cops, you'd get those bastards arrested and then move to a new fucking state. Easy peasy.
The bus pulled to a stop in front of you and you nearly shouted in relief, jumping up and stuffing your gloves into your coat pocket, shuffling over to the open doors of your salvation, the fluorescent bus lights nearly blinding you.
With trembling hands you gave the man your fare and moved to the back of the bus, taking a seat in one of the scratchy blue chairs with little old school patterns printed on it. The smell of old weed and spilled coffee lingering in the heated air.
You were only sitting there for about two minutes before your phone started ringing, startling you so much you knocked your head into the metal back of your seat. You rubbed your head, groaning in pain as you used the free hand to fish out your vibrating phone.
Once in your hand you realized who was calling you, the lit up face of Bailey Martin staring up at you.
You had taken this particular photo of her on one of your many study sessions she liked to force on you. It showed a half smiling Bailey, her blue braids pulled up into a messy bun and her large reading glasses sliding down her nose, she was reaching across to grab something when you told a dumb joke and she smiled despite herself. Now that moment was captured forever, sweet and simple.
It wasn't fitting for the situation though, the light and airy mood portrayed in the photo didn't ease the unsettled feeling rising in your chest.
You slid your finger across the screen, accepting the call and getting a trail of water on your screen, which you wrinkled your nose at. Then you raised the phone to your ear.
"(Y/N)?" Bailey's voice was trembling slightly, as if she was shocked you picked up the phone. It made you swallow harshly and twist the hem of your shirt.
"Hey Bails, it's me. Sorry for not calling before I-"
"Oh my god! (Y/N)! It's really you! Oh I was so worried that they got you, I'm so glad you're safe!" Her voice was filled with relief and slight anxiety. The sound of her thankful pleas became distant as she shouted, "Riley! She's alright! Yes yes! Come over here."
You wiped a stray tear from under your eye and sniffled away from the microphone. "Are you guys ok?"
"Are we ok? (Y/N), you just got attacked!"
That confused you, how did they know about your confrontation with that creep? There was no way they saw it first hand.
"How did you know about that?"
There was movement for a second before a new and shakier voice came on the line.
"We g-got a photo! W-we were sure you were g-go-gone." Riley could barely get the words out, her soft voice covered by the sounds of sniffling and obvious crying.
A photo? Wait a minute.
"That rat bastard! Fucking creep, of course he took a photo. Hold on, I'm on my way over there."
Sure, you were panicked out of your mind and still shaking from the initial attack and shock, but now pure hot anger flooded into your veins, making you tense and grit your teeth.
'That fucking bitch ass creep. Argh, I'm going to lose my shit next time I see him.'
Bailey cut off your thoughts, more shuffling being heard over the phone.
"Are you sure you're ok? We don't have to meet tonight, I understand if you would-"
You hissed lowly and bit back a response, not meaning to sound so harsh. "No. I'm coming over there. We have to talk, before this gets any worse."
Bailey just sighed into the receiver and mumbled a 'ok', before you hung up. Lingering memory of the attack stinging the back of your mind as you hunched forward, running your hands through your hair.
It wasn't a long ride to Riley's place, or rather her much nicer apartment complex. You exited the bus wearily, saying goodnight to the driver and watching as the vehicle drove off.
You turned to the looming building, with it's glass lobby doors and sparkling clean interior, the neat paint job and trimmed shrubs. You remembered Riley saying something about her parents being pretty well off. It didn't matter that much anyways.
You stuffed your hands into your pockets and trekked up the short steps at the front of the complex, pressing the security buzzer.
It took a minute for a response to follow the buzz, a crackling voice coming through.
"Number?"
With an awkward cough you leaned closer to the speaker and rattled off Riley's security number, which granted you another buzzer noise as the doors unlocked. You slipped through and exhaled at the warm air.
The elevator was slightly colder as you stepped inside, pressing the shiny fourth floor button, watching as the led lights switched numbers. You tapped your foot on the metal floor, staring down your warped reflection on the clean walls.
Suddenly a figure approached from behind, so tall you could only see the wicked smiling face mask, the outstretched blood stained hands, twitching in your direction.
You screamed, dropping to the floor and snapping your head in the direction of the person, only to find your own terrified reflection looking back at you, arms over your head and knees bent in a crouch.
You heaved out quick breaths and clutched your chest as the elevator dinged, letting you know you had arrived at your destination. Eyes wide, you glanced around cautiously, making sure there really was no one behind you. No one jumped out and dragged you away, not a single noise came from the dull hallways or the waiting metal lift.
With a long sigh you slowly stood up and rushed out of the lift, holding your arms close to your chest, you didn't spare another glance back as you ran down the soft pink halls, scanning the numbers for Riley's apartment door.
When you finally found her door you placed a shaking hand on the wall and bent over, hair falling into your eyes as you panted harshly, feeling your lungs widen before deflating once more. With your free hand you rapped gently on the door, struggling to stand straight.
The door swung open, revealing a distressed looking Bailey, her grey eyes widening at your state, taking in your winter jacket thrown over your pajamas and the wild look in your (e/c) eyes. Without a word in greeting she wrapped a hand around your wrist and tugged you inside, quickly shutting the door behind you.
"(Y/N)!!" You were attacked in a strong hug, arms wrapped around your waist as blonde hair tickled your nose. It was obviously Riley but the sudden contact made you stiffen.
"Riley, give her some space. She's obviously shaken up." Bailey was always the voice of reason, her soothing voice made you relax, gently patting your friend on the back as she let go.
The two of them took a long look at you, meeting eyes every second to communicate in some secret lesbian language, it was very cute and domestic. The thought of that though made you shiver, now wasn't the time.
"Listen, I get you guys were worried about my safely but I'm fucking freezing, scared, and panicked. Can you please tell me what the fuck is happening to us?!" You didn't mean to sound so harsh but you couldn't help it, this was insane and you needed to know why the hell the three of you were being stalked by some creepy murder men.
Riley grabbed your hand gently, leading you to the couch and making you sit, her teeth chewing at her bottom lip, a sign she was thinking deeply.
You watched as she met your eyes with sympathy and then as she hurried off into her kitchen to grab something.
Bailey stood in front of you, her arms loosely crossed. "We'll get to Riley's whole thing shortly, first I need you to tell us what happened on your way here."
Riley came back and set down a steaming mug of what you assumed was hot chocolate in front of you, taking a seat on the chair across from you. "Please (Y/N), can you tell us?"
One shaky inhale later you recounted the details of your night, leaving out the more gruesome descriptions of what you had seen. Either way it made the two of them obviously nervous, Bailey taking a seat next to you to rub your arm comfortingly as Riley covered her mouth with trembling hands.
Once you had finished you reached over and took the hot mug into your hands and drank a long sip, your head swirling with details you'd rather not remember. You shuddered and sat your mug down again.
"Do you think he followed you here?" Bailey's question made you freeze before you jerked your head into a solid no. Sure, you weren't completely sure, but you doubt that fucker ran alongside the fucking bus. Not like he could drive either, with all the sudden movements he made, and you doubted the other two fucks were there with him.
"No, I think we're fine. Unless you have something else to add onto that." You made eye contact with both of them, watching as they turned to each other and seemed to agree on something.
"There was a different man who attacked Riley on her way home, and another who got to me while I was coming over here this afternoon." Bailey adjusted her position on the couch, one leg on top of the other as she leaned forward and sighed.
"The one who found me was about my height, had this freaky looking mask on his face. It was white and kind of looked like a mannequin woman, either way it wasn't pleasant. He was lugging around a big crowbar, stained with what I think was blood. Anyway, he chased me down two allies before throwing the damned thing at my legs." At this, Bailey paused and rolled up her own soft pants, allowing you to see what was beneath.
On the back of her shin was a large purple bruise, spotted with yellow and brown, it definitely looked like it hurt like a bitch. Riley winced at the sight of it and Bailey quickly rolled back down her pants with a grimace.
"It hurt and I stumbled for a second, but I guess he was expecting me to completely fall over because he wasn't running at me anymore. Luckily, I had enough adrenaline to get the hell out of there before he realized what had happened." She finished with a hardened look in her eyes, sneering at some invisible man.
You turned your attention to Riley, who was chewing at her lip again, watching Bailey closely or spacing out. "What about you, Riley?" You spoke as softly as possible, careful not to have her just burst out into tears.
The blonde swallowed and closed her green eyes shut, her nose wrinkling slightly. Then she began.
"He was tall, didn't say a word. He was wearing a dark hood over his entire head, a red frowny face stitched onto it. He had this..." She squeezed her eyes closed tighter and held back a choked sob. "He had this big gun, but he never shot it, probably because of the noise. He just followed after me through the back way I was taking to the apartment, his head all tilted and his shoulder moving like he was laughing at me."
Riley swallowed again, a couple tears slipping past her shut eyes and trailing down her pale cheeks. Bailey had gotten up and was crouched besides her, holding onto her hand and rubbing a thumb over her knuckles gently.
"Eventually, he... he disappeared from behind me but," she inhaled sharply and opened her watery eyes, "when I got to the side of my building h-he....he!.."
Riley burst out in fresh sobs, folding over to weep into her knees, Bailey trying fruitlessly to soothe her from the memory of whatever this man had done.
"He left a photo on the wall, a photo from Riley's past." Bailey took over, her blue braids falling out of their up-do. She glanced at Riley before subtly gesturing to the kitchen counter.
You got up, listening to Bailey murmur soft reassurance to the other woman. In quick steps you reached the kitchen island and grabbed the flipped photo that lay there. You almost dropped it in shock.
It was a group photo, obviously playful and friendly. A group of six people stood clustered together at some sort of campground, all smiling brightly at the camera. Well you assumed they were all smiling because most of their faces had been scribbled over with red sharpie, a giant red x replacing the majority of faces, a big smiley face sitting in the corner of the photo.
The only people who remained free from the vandalism was a younger looking Riley, a tall man with a military buzz cut, and a short Asian girl with long black hair. The other three in the photo were covered by red x's, one you recognized as Dennis from the video.
With the photo still in your hand you turned, looking between Riley and the picture. Were these the friends she talked about in the video?
A part of you felt betrayed, one of your best friends basically kept a whole separate life from you. The more reasonable side of you reasoned that this was a lot more than old friends and missing back story, this was murder. This was real, too real.
"Who are they?" You carried the photo back with you to the couch, sitting near the end of it so you could be closer to the other two, who were basically smothering each other.
Riley looked up as Bailey released her from a tight hold, her blonde hair brushed back away from her face in messy tangles. Stress and fear evident in her soft features, her once vibrant green eyes dulled to a smooth olive.
She reached out a hand, gently taking the picture from your fingers and setting it down on the coffee table, scooching over to the edge of her chair so she could point at the faces, or at least the red marks.
She tapped Dennis first, only his curly brown hair showed over the top of the mess of scribbles, his cheeks wide and holding dimples. "Dennis, you probably saw him in the..." she took a breath, gathering up what was left of her courage, "the video."
Next, her finger landed on herself, a younger version of her crouched by Dennis, playfully flipping off the camera. Her blonde hair was in a loose ponytail but she couldn't look happier than right then, surrounded by people she loved.
"That's me, a year ago." She didn't elaborate further, but you knew it was most likely because of the video, it had explained why she had changed so much.
Riley slid her finger across to the guy standing behind her, holding up a peace sign with a timid smile. He had acne and bug bites over his face and neck, his dark hair short and well kept. "Kenny, he was really smart. Amy's older brother."
As she said 'Amy' she pointed at the short Asian girl. "We were dating back then." Now that she pointed that out you could see that they were both giggling at each other in the photo, Amy seeming more bashful with a soft and adoring grin.
"She was really sweet, always kept candy in her pockets and carried around stickers." Riley had this wistful look in her eyes, until Bailey grumbled.
Next up was the person standing between Riley and Amy. They looked perfectly androgynous and wore a dark blue hoodie, wavy hair sitting at their shoulders that was dyed a splotchy green.
"Cameron, they were...." she paused, trying to describe this person, "..fun. They always went to the cool parties, bringing back some dumb family heirloom they stole from the host."
You raised an eyebrow and Riley dryly laughed, not really feeling the amusement of talking about her dead friend. She brushed it off and tapped the last one, buzz cut guy.
"And that's James. The survivalist; last I heard he was serving overseas in the Navy." He did look strong, his arms crossed over his chest, biceps threatening to rip out of his long sleeves, a half smile on his lips and a scar cutting into the bridge of his nose.
"What about the red x's, does that mean they're- --" You started the question, already knowing the answer before Riley cut you off.
"Dead. Dennis killed them." Her hands were clenched, once again sitting in her lap. Her jaw was tense, eyes narrowed at the thought, all the good things she remembered about her old friends fading away quickly.
"Rye, you don't-" Bailey set a hand over one of Riley's, looking concerned before Riley cut in once more.
"No no, I do. (Y/N) deserves to know."
Riley sat back and smiled wearily, but it didn't reach her eyes. She patted the hand resting over hers gently, reassuring Bailey the best she could. "Don't worry, I got this."
She turned back to you, gnawing at her lower lip as she thought of a way to begin. Then she sighed loudly and started talking.
It was around two years ago now, I think. Sometime in early spring. It was senior year of high-school and every one of us was excited to get out of school and move somewhere cool and fun, somewhere that wasn't Delaware.
Dennis wasn't the 'ring leader' I would say, it just wasn't that kind of group dynamic. If anything, it was James who commanded the most. But Dennis did have a special kind of influence.
You see, we all had known each other since pre-school, we lived in such a small town that it was easy to keep old friends around. The thing is, we had all been connected together by Dennis.
He was easy-going and fun to talk to, always willing to try new things and listen to whatever problems you were having.
It was like that for a long time, he was kind of the main piece that linked us together, until... His family had a terrible tragedy.
Dennis' mom had been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer when we were in our junior year.
There was nothing they could do to help her and the debt from the bills and funeral were like a never ending spiral for his family.
He changed a lot after that.
Suddenly, instead of him being the light that held us together, he preferred to stay inside, kept away from group activities and started talking nonsense. Stuff about demons.
We all had to work together to try and bring him out of it, but it only got worse.
In our last year he was sent to a retreat, something that would help him. At least that's what we were told. It couldn't have been further from the truth.
He came back paranoid and scared, always looking over his shoulder like something or someone was out to get him. We tried to talk to him about it but he never told us.
The photo was taken a day before graduation, we had all decided to go on a trip, maybe boost spirits and help Dennis overcome his weird superstition.
Weirdly enough, when we told him, he was elated, more than excited to get packed and get going. We were so relieved! It seemed like we were finally getting our friend back!
It was his idea to take the photo, saying it would be that last time we would be able to... We just assumed he meant it was our last time as kids.
That night we all paired up and laid down in our tents to go to sleep, and everything was fine for maybe an hour.
Then the first scream was heard.
When we all got up and walked out of the tents we just...oh it was so awful.
Dennis had... he took the axe we had been using for the firewood and....
Kenny's head burst like a watermelon. The blade of the axe rooted deeply into the back of his skull. It looked like he had tried to crawl away from the deranged boy, only to be caught and quickly taken care of.
His dark hair was splayed in the dirt, covered in drying crimson blood. Brain and pieces of bone laying on the ground beside him.
Dennis was shaking, still standing over the poor boy, splattered in fresh blood and looking absolutely horrified.
He turned quickly, making eye contact with the four others standing off to either side of him, black eyes flickering between all their terrified faces.
"Hey guys."
Another scream, Cameron had instantly taken off, barefoot and wearing only a night shirt and boxers.
Dennis' seemed panicked at this and he stumbled trying to chase after them, picking up a rock on the way.
"Wait! Wait! Cameron! ...FUCK!"
The two of them dispersed, leaving James, Riley, and Amy standing alone in the dark of the night. Well, unless you counted the very dead Kenny laying in front of them.
"O-oh my god...OH MY GOD!" Amy had her hands over her mouth, looking ready to vomit out all the campfire vegan hotdogs she had eaten.
"Kenny! Kenny! No no no, god please..." She dropped to her knees in front of her rotting brother, hands hovering over his crushed head, tears and snot running down her pale face.
The sliced scalp of her older brother seemed to smile tauntingly, so she leaned back and threw up everything into the dirt, shoving herself away from the body as she heaved and coughed.
Riley ran up behind her, making extra sure to avert her eyes from the scene before her, trying to comfort her girlfriend. "Amy! Amy!"
The small girl was sobbing uncontrollably as Riley crouched down next to her, holding back her hair and trying to look her in the eye, maybe to calm her if only so she could stand.
"We have to run. Riley, can you carry her?" James seemed the least affected, teeth gritted and avoiding looking at his dead friend, but voice even and calm.
"I can't leave him! He needs me! W-we have to--! A h-hospital! He-He needs--!"
James narrowed his eyes as another ear splitting scream of help rang through the forest, letting them all know that Cameron had been caught, and it'd only be a matter of time before Dennis came back.
"He's dead. We need to leave, now." His tone was firm, and Riley knew if they didn't get moving now then he would leave without them.
"Amy, please, honey. We have to go. If we don't then we're next. Please." Riley tried to reason with her sniveling girlfriend, grabbing at her shoulders and trying to get her to stand.
The sound of crunching footsteps was getting closer and Riley could almost smell the new blood from there.
Amy took one last look at her brother before nodding slowly, standing with the help of the blonde.
James sighed in relief, and put a finger to his mouth, letting them know to stay quiet as he gestured them forward into the endless trees.
"We managed to escape and get to a hospital, Dennis never came after us until he tried to attack me a year ago." Riley was sweating and sniffled lightly, rubbing her palms on her legs and making eye contact with the floor.
"James and Amy are living somewhere else, we promised never to see each other again."
It was quiet for a long while, the information processing in your brain too slow for your liking, it had now been three hours since you arrived.
"Why...why did he start killing you guys?" Your question was reasonable and it made Riley's head snap up and Bailey tense.
"I'm not completely sure but he...he kept saying if he didn't kill us then our fates would be up to Him." Riley half-heartedly shrugged.
"Him?" You asked, confused by the vague term.
Riley shrugged again, "I don't know either. Honestly, everything he said till the day he died made zero sense. He was crazy."
You rubbed your face, feeling exhausted. "Is that why you....killed him?"
Bailey interrupted, standing up. "We should get some sleep."
Riley nodded along and you squinted at them. "What? But I want-"
"Enough, it's late. You have work tomorrow and this is one big shitty situation that we need to talk over with clear heads. We can't afford to not have a plan."
You hated the fact you agreed, of course you wanted to find out the whole truth, of course you were still confused and lost. But...sleep sounded amazing. And you knew that work would kick your ass if you were late.
You couldn't fucking believe you were thinking about work right now, especially since your manager-
No, none of that. If you thought of it again you would get zero sleep.
By now, your hot chocolate was cold and strong yawns kept interrupting your thoughts. It would be better just to forget about this for one second and get some rest.
"Fine. I'll take the couch. But if I hear anything weird from Riley's room I'm kicking the door down."
They both went pink and laughed weakly, a joke helped a lot when you were close to dying 24/7.
With low-spoken goodnights the three of you settled down and finally, finally, fell asleep.
(This was my longest chapter yet, I believe. I really hope ya'll like it, since I myself don't. I apologize this one was more Riley back story then the boys, but more to come later <3)