Humming to the beat of the song playing from the speaker still blasting music, Peyton bites at the end of her graphite pencil as she stares down at another poorly drawn image of a random girl. She gazes over to a fashion magazine she had snatched from Casey's room, comparing the beautiful model posing on the front cover to the hideous deformity of an imitation she attempted to draw.
When they were holding auditions for the eighth grade talent show at her school a few weeks ago, it came to her realization that she has no talents whatsoever. She can't sing—unless you count when she's jamming out in the shower—can't dance, can't play any instruments, and apparently can't draw. Sighing, she rips the paper out from the spine of the sketchbook and crumbles it into a wad, tossing it with the other failures near the small trashcan that overflows with paper in the corner of her room.
The closet door behind her slowly cracks open.
"Worth a shot." She mumbles to herself, taking the magazine to draw it closer to her. She sets it on top of the sketchbook and opens it, flipping through the pages to look at new trending styles. She kicks her bare feet up in the air behind her, crossing her ankles as she sways them in the air.
The door widens, the pale mask slipping out of the darkness from her closet as the killer steps into the room. He stares at her from behind the bed and slowly begins to approach her, holding his knife at his side as his grip tightens with each step he takes.
Not able to hear his footsteps over the music, she bobs her head to the song as she turns another page in the magazine. Over her shoulder, he now stands right at the end of the bed just mere inches from her feet.
The blade glistens from the lamp on her nightstand as he steadily raises the knife in the air...
"Hey fucker!"
The killer turns around just as the fireplace poker slams into the side of his mask. He stumbles backwards into the dresser, knocking several bottles of perfume and hair products—along with Peyton's cell phone—down to the floor with him.
"Stay away from my sister, you son of a bitch." Casey snarls, standing in front of the open bedroom door with the poker still raised high in the air.
Peyton turns over to see Casey and her eyes quickly gaze over at the killer, who touches at his head as he pulls himself up to his feet. She screams, jumping up in her bed to where her back hits the headboard.
"RUN!" Casey yells at Peyton. She watches the killer as Peyton, not debating this time, slides out of the bed and bolts into the hallway. She stops at the railing, waiting for her sister to follow.
The killer turns around but, before he can lunge at Casey, she takes another swing with the poker. He grabs onto the bar, the curved end of the poker inches from his mask, and yanks it from Casey's grip.
"Casey!"
Casey backs up and turns around to see Peyton, her eyes filling with tears, still standing there.
"Get out of here! GO!" Casey hollers, turning back just as the killer swings the poker at her. She ducks and the curved end digs into the wall next to the closet door. He back hands her with his free hand, sending her falling onto the floor and sliding into the nightstand. The lamp on top of it rattles.
Screaming, Peyton grabs onto the wooden railing and hurriedly runs down the staircase to the front door. Her hands tremble as she reaches to unlock both of the deadbolts, terrified of what may happen to Casey. She swings open the door, immediately running down the steps of the porch to cut through the tall shrubs lining the sidewalk in front of her. After pushing through the shrubs she bolts through their massive yard, aiming directly for the neighbor's house.
Casey groans, grabbing onto the nightstand and uses it to lift herself up from the floor just as the killer pulls the sharpened end of the poker out from the wall. Without hesitation, he charges her direction as he swings the fire iron again.
She pushes away from the table, aiming for the door, just as the hook of the poker shatters through the lamp and digs into the nightstand. The room cuts pitch black and she shoves past him to get through the door and into the hall.
The killer grabs onto the sleeve of her shirt, pulling her back toward him as he lifts the knife he has been holding in his other hand, but she manages to throw her arm back and elbow him. Instead of letting go, his grip tightens as he pulls her shoulder to spin her around to get a glimpse into her eyes.
Facing him directly, close enough to where she can feel the warmth of his heavy breath through the slits in the mask's nostrils, Casey stares into his eyes coldly. Without looking, she can see through the corner of her eye that he is lifting the knife in the air with his other hand.
"Fuck you!" She screams, punching the mask. The blade drops to the floor as he grabs both of her arms and shoves her back into the railing with such great force her body goes crashing through the thin wooden rails.
An echoing thud bounces from the walls in the living room as Casey crashes into the granite floor, landing on her back. Debris from the railing is scattered all around the floor, particles of wood still lingering in the air above her. Her eyes twitch as she begins to cough from the dust filling her lungs. She tilts her head up to peer at the opening in the railing above her, her blurred vision taking a moment to focus. The masked man stands on the edge staring down at her, aiming the tip of his knife at her tauntingly.
Quickly, she sits up and groans at the pain in her shoulder. The killer immediately turns to walk down the warped staircase, laying the sharpened end of his blade on the wooden railing to carve into it as he descends.
As she manages to get to her feet, the killer reaches the last step and walks out in front of the open door, blocking her escape. Still looking her way, he reaches back to slam the door shut and his fingers run along the handle as he twists the lock. She immediately feels pain shooting down to her ankle, finding it hard to stand up let alone run. She stands no chance...
"Shit." She mumbles, turning around to stumble past the dining room toward the archway leading into the kitchen.
The killer, his stamina fully recharged, chases after her. His boots almost slip on the tiles as he enters the kitchen and comes to a halt, looking around to see a seemingly empty room. The wine bottle, now warm with a small puddle of water surrounding its base, still sits on top of the island in the center of the room.
He walks forward into the kitchen, each footstep sending a small vibration to Casey as she leans against the far side of the island. She covers her mouth, trying not to breath too loud as she knows that he is drawing closer.
Gazing over at the open pantry, he can already see that nobody is inside of it. The back door is still open from when he entered and he immediately walks over to it. As he passes the kitchen island he looks down, seeing the spot she was hiding is now empty. She crawls against the other side of the island until she reaches the opposite end, pressing her back against it.
He looks through the open door and peers around the empty driveway. Knowing that she couldn't have gotten that far on her hurt leg, he turns around just as—
Casey swings the wine bottle into his mask. The bottle breaks, thick shards of glass falling to the floor as the dark red wine spills across the tiles below their feet. He stumbles back into the open patio door, slamming against it with such force that the window shatters.
The killer touches at his mask, feeling the corner near his lower jaw is slightly cracked, and his eyes narrow as he slowly turns to glare at her.
Stumbling back, she grabs onto the edge of the island's countertop and quickly limps around it to run to the pantry. She grabs both of the doors and pulls them closed behind her, right as the killer slams into them from the other side. He grabs onto the handles, tugging at them to the point of nearly ripping them back open.
She glances around the dark pantry for something to prop the door shut and, as a thought crosses her mind, she looks down at her belt. She quickly unfastens it with one hand and pulls it through the belt loops of her shorts, tying it tightly around the handles as he tugs at them again from the other side. He slams into the door and she jumps back, watching his shadow run through the slits in the thin wooden doors.
"GO AWAY!" She screams, seeing the door rattle as the pounding grows significantly louder. The killer slams into it with his shoulder, sending a crack splitting down the middle of the wood on one of the doors. Stepping back, she glances around the small room for a weapon—anything—but finds nothing of use. As the wood splinters further down the door, she knows that it's just a matter of time before he comes crashing through.
The killer's gloved fist breaks through the cracked wood, causing the split to widen as chunks of the door's paneling fall to the ground, and he leans forward to peek in through the hole he made. Her back hits the wall as she covers her ears, the sound of the banging driving her mad, and she slides down the wall to land on the floor.
Suddenly, sirens fade in from the distance. Immediately, he pulls his arm back through the door and disappears. She looks up, uncovering her ears, as she slowly stands back to her feet. A glimmer of hope reappears in her eyes.
She steps forward and stops, hesitating for a moment, before peeking through the opening in the pantry door.
Glass crunching comes from the kitchen as somebody walks in through the shattered patio door and she immediately pulls herself back, grabbing onto one of the shelves to her left. Riley drops his car keys as he gazes around at the broken glass and, in the dark light, the wine that resembles fresh blood as it seeps through the grout separating the tiles.
"CASEY?!" He hollers, quickly stepping further inside to look around the kitchen as a paper bag containing a wine opener along with some snacks falls from his hands to the floor. "CASEY?! PEYTON?!"
"I'm in here!" Casey sobs as she grabs at the belt, rushing to unfasten it.
Riley quickly approaches the doors and tugs at the handle, finding it's no use. He looks at Casey through the hole in the door, seeing the traumatized look in her eyes. "Oh my god, Casey! What happened?!"
"The killer..." She says, struggling to pull the belt off as her hands are still shaking. "He's here, Riley!"
He turns to glance around the room, seeing nothing, before focusing solely on Casey. He tugs again on the handle. "We have to get you out of here!"
Red and blue lights flash from the windows in the den, bouncing off of the walls in the kitchen as police cars line up against the front curb outside her house.
She pulls the final wrap of the belt off and tosses it aside. He rips the two doors open and quickly goes in to hug her, embracing her tightly as he protectively runs his fingers through her hair. He kisses her cheek, his voice shattered as he struggles to find the words to say. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you."
"Are you okay?" He asks worriedly, pulling back to scan her body for any wounds. "Did he hurt you?!"
Heavy pounding comes from the front door. Reminding her of how this night started, Casey digs her head into Riley's shoulder as she continues to sob.
"Police!" A muffled voice hollers from the other side. "Open up!"
"We're coming!" Riley yells back and pulls Casey away to look into her eyes, on the verge of crying himself. "We have to go."
Still shaken up, she nods as he grabs her and tugs her in close to his side. Instead of heading back out the patio door he leads her through the den. Noticing her limp, he wraps his arm around her waist to support her as they approach the front door. He twists the bottom lock, opening it to see Sheriff Martinez standing alongside another officer. Their guns are already drawn, held with both hands slightly above their waist. Another squad car pulls up behind two already parked in the drive, Deputy Bennett jumping out of his car.
"The killer was just here." Riley says, trying his best to remain calm for Casey as the two step out onto the porch. "He might still be inside."
Martinez nods, raising his gun as he approaches the door. "Stay out here, we'll check the house."
"Casey!" A voice calls from a distance.
She turns to see Peyton, standing on the neighbor's front deck alongside an elderly couple, running down the steps to bolt their direction.
Casey immediately breaks from Riley's grip, smiling to see that Peyton is alright as she limps toward her.
Lights flash as an ambulance, along with more squad cars, pull up to the curb. Neighbors exit their homes and watch nosily, wondering what's going on as they gather the street.
Still standing on the porch, Riley watches as the sisters reach one another in the middle of the yard. The two hug, Casey pulling her in so tight that Peyton fears she might break a rib. Staring at them, his eyes begin to swell as he thinks about how close he was to losing the two most important people in his life. Then he realizes that it was all because of him.
♫ sʟᴇᴇᴘ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙᴀʙʏ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ / ᴜ2 ♫