The log that you are sitting on is wet, and dampens your jeans. The campfire casts a dull glow around you, illuminating the forest of tall, slender trees. You look up and see the tops swaying in the wind, almost 50 metres above you, and you feel so small as you notice that the wind up there isn't even touching you, so far down below.

With you are five others; four men and a woman, but the man sharing the log with you catches your eye first. He has wheat blond hair, lightly tanned skin and a chain with some sort of pendant hangs around his neck. He wears a polo shirt, purple striped with white, and grey ripped jeans. His Converse trainers are mismatched, one has an American flag on it, the other a British one. His shoulders shake as he sobs quietly into his lap, hands tangled in his hair. You move closer to comfort him, and he looks up at you with sparkling green eyes. As he sits up, you see his name written messily on the ironic sticker stuck to his chest.

HELLO, MY NAME IS: GavinGROUP 49B

"Gavin," You mutter.

He sniffs. "Yes?"

You put your arms around his shoulder and hug him from the side as he made an effort to pull himself together as he stares into the flames.

You hear footsteps coming from your left and you tense up and turn your head. A woman stands next to you, clutching a clipboard.

"Hello 49B! How are we today?"

Dead silence.

"Well then," She looks down at her clipboard. "I'm sure you know the rules, but here you go anyway. On my whistle, you have three minutes to run and hide. When you hear the second whistle, the killer is released. The aim is to survive till dawn. If he catches you, you lose,"

"Lose? You mean die?!" The man labelled Michael shouts sarcastically at her. She doesn't reply.

"Barbaric," Gavin shakes his head next to you.

"Get ready everybody!" She raises the whistle to her lips and everyone jumps to their feet.

At the shriek of the whistle, pine needles and clumps of dirt are kicked up with clouds of dust as everyone takes off into the forest, literally running for their lives.

"What are you doing?!" Clipboard Lady asks, and you realise that you're still standing there, not having processed the fact that you need to get away.

You sprint off after the others and not long after you spot Gavin struggling, the rips in his jeans getting caught on a bush.

"Need some help?" You say as you slow down behind him.

"Erm, yes, I suppose,"

You untangle him from the bush and he turns to you. The second scream of the whistle chills you both to the bone.

"Lindsay and Michael aren't the only ones who can make alliances," he whispers hurriedly and you take the hint. He then looks up from you and over your shoulder suddenly, his eyes going wide and pupils shrinking with fear.

"Run," He says, before turning on his heels and sprinting away from you as though you had just transformed into Satan himself. But, of course, you hadn't.

How could you, when Satan himself was standing behind you? You feel hot breath on your neck and whip around.

Mad, staring eyes meet yours, unblinking and surrounded by a ring of dried blood. Matted black hair contrasts against deathly pale white skin, and an eerie smile is carved across the bottom half of his face, leaking blood. He tilts his head and looks at you, appearing to be smiling as he raises his knife. You scream, frozen to the spot, and time seemed to slow down and the world went quiet as he put a finger to his lips.

"Shh,"

You snapped out of it and sprung into action, taking a step forward to run but he was far quicker than you and before you knew it his hand was around your neck and you were being lifted off the floor.

"Gavin! Gavin, run!" You scream into the night, secretly hoping you'll hear him coming back for you rather than running away.

Silence.

"Oh, your friend? Don't worry about him, I'll go find him later. This is all about you, for the moment," He drags his knife lightly up your torso from your bellybutton and looks you in the eye as he speaks.

"Funny how quickly people bond when faced with danger, is it not?"

You start to shake as he puts you down and backs you up until your spine is pressing against a tree.

"It's only made it more fun for me, you know. My mother always told me not to play with my food, but she can't tell me what to do anymore," He laughs manically and another wave of fear hits you as you imagine what he is implying.

"I suppose you want to know what happened to the others. Well, Lindsay and Michael were easy. The lady squealed like a pig when the knife went in,"

He laughs again and imitates her, squealing like a pig through his hysterical laughter. He looks you dead in the eye as he slams his head to the side, creating a cracking noise that makes you squirm, and immediately going silent. He looks up as he advances on you, raising his knife again and pressing the blade to your cheek, drawing blood.

"Don't be scared. I'll make you smile, you'll see,"

He drags the knife down under your nose and then back up to your other cheek. You try to cry out but your throat tightens and you physically can't; your mouth just hangs open in a silent scream.

"You might wanna shut your mouth, unless you like the taste of your own blood,"

You do as he says, and feel a thick, hot liquid run down over your lips. You feel lightheaded and he notices, knocking on your skull.

"Wakey wakey, I can't have an unconscious victim, can I?"

You shake your head lazily, delirious from blood loss.

He then proceeds to finish the masterpiece he started and he slices down from your right cheekbone, under your bottom lip, and up to your left cheekbone, then vertical stripes connecting the two 'lips'.

"Perfect," He gives a low, sadistic chuckle again.

The blade then pierces into your left eyelid and blood trickles down into your eye, tinting the world red. It reminds you of when you used to look through coloured candy wrappers when you were a little kid.

You feel blood run down into your right eye too, telling you he had started the other one

You feel nothing.

Once he made sure you couldn't blink at all by poking your eyes with his blood crusted finger, he grabs you by the shoulder and thrusts the knife into your stomach.

You feel nothing.

Maybe the pain was so bad that you had gone numb. You look down to see a huge amount of red liquid flooding down your waist.

You feel nothing.

The killer whispers right in your ear again before you collapse to the floor.

"Go to sleep..."