I've been shot, Makai has been stabbed, Maren has been stabbed, Kellin has been stabbed, and oh, Grayson is here too: stabbed. We've been taken through the theatre and to a semi-hidden door, where a den-like area holds us all. Everyone alive is here besides Enzo. How coinci-freaking-dental. One by one, they tell the story of how they were attacked. 

"Maren and I were switching rooms, and I was snagged before she came out of the room. Then I was stabbed and knocked out cold," Makai explains. "I can't believe I'm in a chair with my hands tied behind my back...again."

"I heard Reyna downstairs. There were gunshots and once I reached the kitchen, I saw Reyna being knocked out with a pan. She hit her head hard against the kitchen door. Then, I was stabbed. I tried to get back to Makai to see if I could find him, but I only made it to the top step when Kellin found me," Maren dishes.

Kellin clears her throat. "I went to go find Makai and Maren. When I found Makai, the killer showed up. I was stabbed and knocked out."

 "Similar story here," Grayson includes. "I went to look for Kellin and – poof – I'mstabbed and brought here."

 Now, it's my turn. "I was shot before I could shoot. I ran after the killer and got knocked out with a frying pan. Yippee." 

"We were too sloppy," Maren solemnly notes. "We should've stuck together with the entire time. If I didn't make Ozzy go save a seat for me on the couch, then he would've been alive and none of us would've split up to look for him."

"Stop that," I bark. "We all know that this would've happened anyways. If you really feel that bad, then make it up to the world by thinking a way out of this." 

 "This" is a small, vaguely lit room. We're all in uncomfortable wooden chairs with our hands and feet tied, and the chairs all face each other in a circle. Around us, there are bookshelves of – oh, what a surprise – books, there are movies, gaming consoles, and a small mounted TV. The light in here comes from an old ceiling fan bulb above us, but that looks like it could go out any second now.

Kellin bites her lip and squirms around as if trying to reach something. Suddenly, her expression brightens and her hands are freed. "Got it!" she exclaims, holding up a pocketknife. "While all your knives were large and noticeable, a pocketknife is discrete and hidden." She passes the knife to Grayson beside her. "Work on your hands, then untie your feet." 

Once Kellin stands up, the theatre door opens and Ghostface enters. Without hesitation, they raise a gun and fire a shot at the biker girl. "Kellin!" Grayson exclaims, furiously working on his hand bondages. Kellin Kodiak falls back, her thud loud with momentum. Blood pools around her and she doesn't move. Could Kellin really just be gone now? How could she die? If her life can end, then all of ours can. 

The killer advances to Grayson, punching the boy in the nose and ripping away the knife. Slowly, they put the blade to Gray's mouth. Even slower, they dig the blade into his flesh and drag the blade across his mouth – one painful centimetre at a time. If Desk Guyflinches too much, then he'll get slashed on the gums. Lips can heal – but internal mouth damage is trickier. 

 Once the killer gets bored of that, they take their hand and wipe the blood away. They reach under their mask and taste the blood. "Delicious," an automated voice hums. "Now that almost all of you are here...well, all of you minus Kellin now." So Kellin really is dead. And she had so much to live for. I don't have anyone to go home to besides Makai while she has two awesome parents and Grayson. And with her wise mind, I'm sure she was meant to impact the world far more than just becoming a slasher victim. "I suppose you want an explanation for all of this. Rest assured, you'll get one. Soon." 

With that, the killer exits.

"I hate to say it, but it has to be Enzo," Maren says. "I mean, we're all here. He's the only one missing."

"We're only missing one person and there are two killers. So maybe that doesn't matter," I justify for Enzo, cursing myself for flying to his defence. I tell myself I'm just being objective. 

My insides are churning and my core is rattling with nervous energy. I'm defenceless, tied up, and have played right into the killers' games. This wasn't how the night was supposed to go at all. To calm me down, I mentally list all of the people who are and were involved in this. I recite their names in my mind like a small whisper. I put them in alphabetical order, rearrange the spelling to see how many different words I can come up with, put them in chronological order of death and when I met them. 

Soon, the names don't become people I knew – but words.

Allister: eight letters, three syllables, one name.

Adelina: nickname is Della, she died second.

Aero: like aerodynamic, root means air.

Because of this, I don't know whether to be relieved or worried. I've purposefully desensitized myself and for what? For comfort? Desensitizing myself makes me relax? 

 I let out a groan and lean my head back, staring at the ceiling fan which moves in hypnotic circles. Nothing makes sense and after all the trauma of the illogical being logical, I doubt that anything ever will. 

What has this life come to?

My bangs fall in my face and I can't use my hands to re-pin them back.

Wait a minute.

My clips. They must've fallen out.

Looking to my right, I ask Maren something very strange. "Can you knock me over?"

"What?"

"Kick my chair over. My hairclips fell out and they're sharp on the ends. If I can find them on the ground, then I can undo my ropes and help you guys."

"Where is it so I can push you in the right direction?"

 Craning my neck, my eyes scour the floor for the dark pins. Though it's difficult against the dark carpet, I find them. "There," I say with a nod of my head. Splaying my palms open, I prepare for the impact.

"Here goes nothing," Maren grumbles, scooting around me for a right angle. Her knee stuck under the butt of my chair and she hops. My chair goes back on two feet and I rear back to give it the extra boost I need. My fingers crawl all over the floor in search of the metal clips. "Find it?" 

Finally, I pinch something: the clips. "Got it."

"Yes!" Makai cheers, a grin on his face. "Reyna, you're a genius."

"Don't call me that yet. I've still got to work the ropes," I inform, sawing at the material. One by one, the individual string fray until I sever the piece completely. "Hands are free." 

I pick myself up and undo Maren's hands. Once I undo her hands for her to help others, I work on my own feet. But unfortunately, only the two of us are totally free before we hear noises in the theatre. "Go," Grayson whispers. "Hide behind the door and when the killer comes in, run and get help." 

"Here," I offer, putting the clips in his hand. Solemnly, I look to Kellin. "I'm so sorry we got you into this, Grayson."

"You can make it up by getting me out of this," he very seriously suggests. "Now hurry up."

Maren and I hide behind the door as the room falls silent. My heart sounds like thunder as I strain to listen to what's going on in the theatre. A slur of curses and threats are being made in a ferocious voice, so I automatically know that Enzo is being brought in here. What's the purpose of dragging us all into one room?

 Footsteps near the door and I get ready to run for my life. The killer enters first and immediately notices the broken ropes of Maren and me. As if they sensed us, the being peers behind the door and whips out a nasty knife. Though his hands are tied behind his back, Enzo manages to find a way to save us. 

"Go!" I shout to Maren. Like Kellin, Maren has a family to get home to whereas I have nothing but a half-brother. More people will be devastated with her vanishing than mine. Ghostface steps towards me as I sprint by him, and they would've caught me with the dig of their knife if Enzo hadn't stepped in the way and rammed into the figure. Rather than hit me with an uppercut swipe, the knife rips across Enzo's face. A stab of guilt and anger at the killer floods my body and makes me see everything in a shade of red. But then I remember everything Enzo did and my guilt and anger evaporate for the most part.

Maren and I race to the living room, where our weapons and phones have been lazily strewn across the floor. This means that no one was supposed to escape the room in the theatre.
Team Victim: 1. Ghostface Slashers: 99.

"We have to help them," I tell Maren, picking up a gun.

"No," Maren opposes as I check the magazine.

"I know Grayson said go get help, but by the time we do, they'll all be dead." The magazine is emptied of any ammunition. There are no bullets.

"If you want to understand your enemy, you have to become them," Maren says.

"What Tumblr pages have you been prowling?" I eerily ask, turning to Mare. She picks up a long, double-edged Bowie knife and runs her finger along with one of the blades. The sharp edge slices her finger and makes it bleed, but she doesn't even flinch. 

"When Destiny screamed, I knew we were dealing with psychopaths," she barrels on, dropping her knife-holding hand to her side. 

"So you know how to kill these guys?" I ask, wishing she would get to the point. 

"That's what I wanted to figure out," she explains. 

"Why was that in the past tense?" I ask, backing away from her. I figure all the panic and anxiety is affecting her in some strange way, but just for protection, I look for a nearby weapon. But they're all by Maren, who is unstable for the moment. 

"Because when I shot Allister, I realized exactly what my obsession with psychos and serial killers were." Maren pauses her speech for a beat, walking towards me as I back away. "You see: at first, I did it because she was too cheery and fake and if I killed her, I could get into the psyche of a psycho. But Reyna..." Maren laughs and shakes her head. Her eyes are wide in fascination. "I smiled when I pulled the trigger. And later, I laughed about it. I was infatuated with all these messed up killers because I was actually born to be one. And the glorious part..." I back up until my back hits a wall. Great. Now I'm trapped."...is that no one would've ever suspected the sheriff's daughter. The sheriff: in charge of ridding Solaris of evil, gave birth to evil. Hah! It's golden."

"But the live video," I bring up, trying to stall and figure out what to do while my brain is just thinking THIS GIRL I WAS BEST FRIENDS WITH SINCE KINDERGARTEN IS A KILLER. 

"It wasn't live, you idiot," Maren clarifies. "Anyways, I caught the attention of the original killer after sniping Al. We teamed up...obviously. I didn't get to kill much. I only murdered Allister, technically your mother, and Ozzy. As for my own wound: self-inflicted gain your pitiful trust." 

"Why?" I inquire as the gap between us closes. 

 "Why?" Maren echoes. "WHY?" Sweat clots my shirt and beads on my forehead. It drips down my spine as my flight or fight instinct kicks in. I remember my instincts were to always run: at the church and when I fought Kellin are a few examples. The only time I stayed and pursued the pursuer was when my friends needed me: when Makai was taken and when he was the prize at the carnival when I had to find the clues at the morgue to end the bloodshed when someone had to go find Ozzy... 

I only found my physical resilience when my friends counted on me. Now my life is in danger because of one of those friends. Will the need to save myself be enough? Will I muster up the courage to fight for my own ability to live? 

 "Did I stutter?" I ask Maren through gritted teeth. "I asked why."

"Because it was fun. Enzo was a fool for giving up his lifestyle."

"No wonder Della hated you," I spit. "You are a freak."

"Killing you will be fun," Maren taunts. "You deserve to rot in hell."

"I'll save you a seat when I get there. And what did I ever do to you?"

Fight or flight? Run or stay? What have I to push back for?

Briefly, I see images at my self-question. There's Makai from when we were little, and Della when she told me to slay my demons, and Allister when she cheered me up afterMakai was taken, and Hanzo when he sided with me when Della wasn't being nice atDestiny's party, and lastly I see Enzo when he was fully happy at the meadow. Over half of these people are dead but I feel my feet plant in the ground. Somehow, they've given me the strength to stay and finish this battle. But why were these people in my mind? These specific ones? 

They're the ones closest to you.

"What did you do to me? Hmm..." Maren taps her chin with the tip of the knife. "Oh!

You had friends who cared about you. You didn't know who you were and you were such a weak person, yet you got the glory. I knew who I was and I was still lonely. So what did you do to me? You showed me that the world isn't fair and that someone has to even score. And that someone..." Maren grins, all of her teeth showing and her eyes glistening with twisted rage. "Is me!"

Maren brings the knife down on me with two hands and all of her force. Slowly, the blade creeps my way, the metal reflecting from the lights in the house. I'm pushing against her arm but at an angle. The only way to truly move the blade away from me is through direct contact with the object.

In one abrupt movement, I duck down and allow my hands to absorb the blade, the edge sinking into my palms. Nevertheless, adrenaline blocks out my shot shoulder and gaping palms and allows me to push back. 

Now, this is just a time battle. Who will give in to the force first? Maren Desario or me?