What up what up? So I'm back with an update LOL! Hands are tied back here so I'm kinda busy. No worries! the story will go on smoothly! Next update's probably going to be on next Sunday (July 19). 

Also, this chapter's going to be dedicated to BestRoleInLife, my fellow Filipino friend in the virtual world and also my fellow writer who I first met here in the world of wattpad! To my kapwa Filipinos who likes to read, especially the horror/mystery genre, you can take a look at his profile and read his latest work titled 'Loki's Game'. Promise y'all, I see his skills in horror,  promising!

Enjoy reading and love lots!

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CHAPTER 3: A Kill No One Will Hear

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9:15 PM...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

A loud knocking broke the silence of the night, waking Samara up. Her eyes darted upon the digital clock that was placed on top of her bedside table, the time '9:13 PM' glowed with a minty green light.

She looked around her bedroom with sleepy eyes: an old-fashioned television few feet away from her, a computer set from her right, stacks of books perfectly lined up on a shelf that is placed beside a window from her east side—it was an intact bedroom no less.

Samara lied back down, ready to fall back into a deep sleep, assuming that the noise she just heard was a part of her imagination.

Knock! Knock!

Not even a couple of seconds had passed, the knocking resumed. This time, Samara was sure she wasn't hearing things. Her sleepiness dispersed with each time passing by, and she was eager to know who was at her door.

"Aren't these bullheads suppose to be in their beds right now?!" The young brunette complained while opening her bedroom door open, forehead scrunched while huffing, "the curfew has already started, dammit!"

She walked along the dragging, dark hall with her wrinkled forehead tightened further, not even bothered by the darkness of her surroundings.

"I got a tiring day, and I can't even get a decent amount of shut eyes for God's sake!" She hollered again, not even caring at all if she was being unnecessarily loud at this point, "damn, I can't even take some time to roam my house let alone!"

She descended the wooden stairs, stopping at the last step upon her eyes unintentionally glancing over to her left.

She stood there looking at a medium-sized framed photo that was hung up against the wooden wall. Her lips made a tiny smile, admiring the photograph containing the kid versions of her and her sister.

"You and I were like partners in crime back in the day," she spoke, her eyes looking down a bit in a gloomy fashion. She was so caught in the moment of reminiscing those good memories with Crystal that she had almost forgotten about the knocking noises.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The young brunette winced upon hearing the bothersome noise once again. She passed by the archway leading to the living room before facing the front door eventually.

The knocking kept on and on as she began undoing the locks.

"Hold your damn tits down!"

As the last lock went undone, Samara's hand reached out for the golden doorknob, twisting it open before giving the door a jolting pull.

The cool breeze swooped over, blowing strands of her hair. The view of her tidy porch area greeted her eyes, but whoever was at the door was nowhere to be seen in sight.

"Huh? What the hell?" She muttered, her eyebrows crooked intensely.

There was no sign of anybody out there. Only now did a thought crossed her mind: who would be knocking at this time of the night?

Who would it be? Considering the curfew had already begun just moments ago? No one should be out of their homes at this point.

She could have been unsettled by the thought, but right now, she was more pissed to even be scared, let alone. Her foot automatically took one step outside, pressing firm and hard against the floorboards to the point that it had left a cringing creak in its wake. She slowly closed the door without a click, her eyes scanning from east to west, looking for any traces of someone who might have possibly roamed her property.

The eerie whistle coming from the wind sent a shiver down to Samara's spine; she felt it tickling her skin. The cool temperature made her shiver, but she ignored it at best. She was about to make an approach toward the porch's steps when she froze.

Under the floorboards where her feet were connected, she felt light thumping sounds coming from booted feet.

Thump... Thump... Thump...

'Footsteps.' She thought.

The sounds were coming from behind her.

Samara slowly turned herself around, seeing nobody there.

"The hell..."

There was no sign of anybody there; no faint traces of another individual. However, the footsteps continued on and on, heading to the direction where the back of the house's porch was located.

At this point, Samara was sure that she was not alone. Eager to know who the person might be, the young brunette stealthily followed the sound.

Thump. Thump.

She crept closer and closer until she was at the corner leading to the back part of the porch.

She pressed herself against the wooden walls, releasing a shaky breath that she never realized was there before. She was breathing short and fast, cringing every time her breath made the slightest sound. She was mulling over two decisions: jump out of hiding and surprise whoever was at the other side, or make a run back to her cabin's safety.

The subconscious fear of finding out who might be hiding at the corner loomed over her. She felt her chest tightened like there were a pair of large hands squishing her lumpy lungs as each second passed by. She wanted to walk away, but she can't. There was no turning back now.

"One... Two... Three!"

She took a swift turn to the corner, and there she saw nothing.

Just an empty space.

Nobody was there, and Samara found herself looking dumbfounded as ever.

Her fingers ran across her head, raking strands and clumps of her hair. She could feel her upsetting feeling intensified. Whoever was messing her did a good job setting off her temper.

"Okay!" She uttered out loud, "I'm gonna bash your skull open, so you better come out because one, there's no raccoon here."

All those feelings of unease had completely vanished; she was pissed at this moment.

She took one step forward, giving herself a playful spin while applying ample pressure to her fingers, giving them satisfying snaps. "—and two, nobody fucks with the owner, and that's me. So don't be a pussy! You better come out and show yourself before I get the chance to knock your damn teeth out!"

Nobody answered. The unsettling rustles of tree branches and leaves echoed nearby while the howling wind flew with an arcadian swoosh. Her mouth released a frustrated sigh, flicking her middle finger up in the air, waving it. "Fuck you, whoever or whatever might be!"

"Hello... Samara."

She heard a deep, cold voice from behind her. She felt the chills crawling down to her spine. She turned around, the color across her face turned pale the moment she found herself facing a tall, looming figure.

~~~~~~~~~~

Her breath paced fast with each strut she made. Her heart was beating fast alongside the rapid sounds of her red stilettos clicking, hurrying like she was late in a scheduled, job interview. Her bob-cut hair got sluggishly blown by the wind; one tiny strand of the bangs slapped her face in which she flicked it with crooked eyebrows.

Fiddling her buzzing phone inside her pink handbag, she let out a sigh before placing the device beside her ear.

"Moira Pendleton!" A screechy voice, almost shattering the young, teenage girl's ear, echoed from the other line.

"Jesus! Bethany!" Moira exasperated, scolding the girl named 'Bethany from the other line, "calm your ass down!"

The booming noises of funky, remixed kinds of music echoed from the other line, along with the continuous howls of glee coming from youths in her age. The upbeat atmosphere from the other phone line only prompted Moira's pace to go faster. She was really excited to get on with the party at the town's nightclub, located just about three blocks away from her current location.

"Sorry!" Despite the combination of party noises, she was able to hear Bethany's voice from the other line. "The party's in full swing. You better get here if you don't want to get caught in the middle of the curfew."

"You didn't even bother waiting for me," Moira complained, clearly upset.

"Sorry, my party ass can't help it. Besides, this can last all night, you know?"

"Fine, fine. Just save me some of their exclusive shots—just a glass or two will do."

"Okay, girlfriend. I'll be at the bar waiting."

"Okay. I'll see you soon."

Ending the call, Moira shook her head rather in disappointment. 'Starting the party without your main bitch.'

It was her best friend's habit to always go ahead in things that involve the two of them. Of course, that's Bethany's habit; Moira should be used to it already.

With a gentle air escaping from her nostrils, the girl raised her left arm up, taking a quick glance over her wristwatch to read the time as '9:23 PM'.

"Great," she uttered with a grunt.

One block away and she was almost reaching her destination. Passing by the second intersection, the girl headed north.

The wind eerily flew passed Moira, giving her shivers around her skin all of a sudden. She continued forward, ignoring the cool air brushing past her, not wanting to get caught by the police who were patrolling the streets.

Pit-pat. Pit-pat.

Moira's eyebrows furrowed upon hearing footsteps from behind her. She abruptly stopped from walking, and at the same time, the footsteps took a halt, as if in-sync with her own movements. She turned around just to see nothing but leaves on the pavement being carried by the wind.

She disregarded the sounds as tricks being played by her mind, and so she kept walking.

Not even a few seconds had passed, the footsteps resumed.

Pit-pat. Pit-pat.

Anxiously, Moira took a quick spin, but still, no one was there.

Sweats started dripping down from her temples as she fastened her pace. Her breath came in and out two times quicker, and the adrenaline in her system started surging through.

Pit-pat. Pit-pat.

The footsteps were equally on par with Moira's speed; she was already in the point of running. It was like the separate footsteps were tied to her own. Each pace she took, the other footsteps were following close behind.  She went on and on until she could see the colorful lights of the nightclub flashing from the distance, perhaps a hundred meters away from where she was.

"Ah!!"

The worse came for the girl. One of her heels snapped in half, sending her tripping down onto the cold, hard pavement, but not without suffering a sprained ankle in the process.

"Agh!"

A squeaky yelp escaped out of her mouth as she held her right ankle in pain. She felt the prick rushing through her system, most especially from her affected leg. She cannot stand up despite giving her full might. She cannot do anything but to tend to her injury.

"What..."

Her body froze completely, her head hung low while her peripheral vision caught a glimpse of a figure few feet away from her.

She slowly lifted her head back up, her blood nearly ran cold upon seeing a figure standing eerily just a couple of meters away from her.

Moira felt her lower jaw chattered with fear just by looking at the stranger's intimidating presence.

A mask made out of white-colored latex fully concealed their identity; those emotionless, piercing eyes seen in the mask's sockets were fully focused on Moira's. What made the mask a lot more terrifying was the wide, Cheshire grin it had. That hideous grin that fully exposed a full set of needle-shaped teeth made her feel terrified up to her bones.

Through those broad shoulders, the unknown person was wearing nothing but a plain white shirt covered with an unbuttoned denim jacket, perfectly matched with a pair of dark jeans and a pair of black, combat boots.

Their intimidating stance made her quiver in fear. She could not utter even a single letter. Her voice was caught in a hitch, halting in the middle of her throat.

Moira felt like her soul had left her body once her gaze landed upon the object that the masked stranger was holding within a leather-gloved hand: a hatchet.

"Help me!" Moira screamed.

She found herself desperately crawling toward the direction of the nightclub in order to get away.

"Somebody! Help!!"

She looked back, seeing the stranger began making slow, but heavy steps towards her. Moira didn't care if her throat was hurt badly from all that screaming she was emitting. She was desperate to attract attention just so the unknown individual could stop coming for her.

"Oh God! Help me!!" Moira screeched at the top of her lungs once again, seeing the stranger closing in with slow, menacing steps.

She was near to the door leading to the nightclub, just an inch away. She reached out to grab the door handle, but all chances of her attempted escape dispersed.

The stranger caught up with Moira, grasping her hair. The girl started clawing on their hand as she screamed, but it was like the unknown person was numb from all forms of pain to even react at all.

"L-let me go, please!!" She pleaded with a whimper, but the stranger did not utter a word.

It was no use. There was no escape. Moira can't fight back. She was so close toward safety. So close that she could almost feel the weight on her chest bursting out open with her dire screams... had she just made it in time.

She looked at the stranger one, final time. Those eyes— It was staring right through her. Their gaze was cold; so cold that she was paralyzed from looking back at them despite wanting to veer her gaze away.

The stranger lifted one arm up, revealing the glimmering blade of the hatchet shining against the moonlight.

The girl let out one, final scream as the blade went flying down to her throat with one powerful swing; the sounds of flesh crunching were covered up by the booming noises of the ongoing party happening inside the nightclub.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Fuck shit!"

Samara's heart felt like it just skipped a beat, but calmed down quickly soon afterward after she caught a full detail of who the person in front of her was.

Two other individuals popped up behind the tall person.

In front of her were two boys and one girl, all roughly at the same age as her.

"Oh gosh!" The girl from the trio exclaimed, "I'm sorry we scared you, Samara," she apologized, giving the young brunette a peace sign.

Samara's eyes squinted slightly, her stare dead-focused at the three people in front of her. It took a few moments before her brain had completely processed who the three individuals were.

"Guys?" she uttered, dumbfounded, "my best pals?"

"Hey, plain Jane," the tall guy called out the stupefied brunette by her second name in a deep voice, similar to the one she had previously heard. She noticed a device within his hand. It was a voice changer.

"What---"

"Don't you recognize us?" he asked, now with his real, pleasant voice.

Samara's eyes switched between the guy who called out to her and the voice changer he was holding. Her gaze landed upon the silver locket that the latter wore around his neck. She fully recognized that small trinket that he always wore ever since he was a kid. That deep set of emerald eyes that blended well with his opposite cheeky smile was indeed familiar. His all-black outfit that aesthetically complimented his appearance also rung a bell to her head. And to top up his boy-next-door looks, his height differed from her and the rest of his companions—standing roughly 5'9. She definitely recognized who the young man was, ever so tall and fair: Geoff West.

"Geoff freakin' West! Give me a hug!" Samara's squeals echoed throughout the night,
tackling the boy named 'Geoff' with a hug tight as a bear's, messing his swept, black hair in the process.

"Hey, hey! Not the hair, please!" Geoff retorted with a chuckle, returning the embrace.

When the young brunette broke from the hug, she diverted her attention to the young, blond girl next.

That blue hairband that she always wore on top of her head, and that familiar love for wearing bright-colored tight skirts and shirts as her main casual wear had never ceased to compliment her beauty. Her overall appearance gave off a bright and positive vibe. Her warm smile blended well with her pair of small, pinkish lips. Her set of chestnut eyes glinted with joy, further emphasizing her welcoming vibe. She was just as tall as Samara, with a petite body build, but was the smallest among the trio nonetheless.

"Charissa, you little ditz! How's it going?!" Samara squealed, her arms wide open, wrapping the baby-faced Charissa in a tight embrace.

"You grew quite an inch than before!" the blonde girl remarked with glee, returning the hug.

Both girls shared giggles, happy to see each others' presence, never wanting to let go of the hug.

"Damn. The original Samara Jane Morrison," another boy beside them spoke, holding a chocolate cake with the words 'welcome back Samara!' drizzled on the top, "back in the flesh! You haven't changed a bit. Still the rough and tough cookie that we knew?" He commented, his dark, limp, brown hair covering one of his hazel eyes.

Among the trio, this second boy gave off the impression of 'that guy' having both brains and looks. He was slightly slim on the abdominal area and chest, but it was compensated with well-built arms and shoulder-to-chest area that could blend enough with his fitness. Has rosy skin, and with the shade of his ash-colored hoody, it amplified his complexion. To further distinguish his aura from the other two, and also to support his differing features, he was wearing a pair of glasses. Samara also recognized who this boy was.

"Hey hey hey Jayson!" Samara squealed once again, pinching the boy named 'Jayson' against the cheeks, much to the latter's minor annoyance.

"Jeez, your hands are still as heavy as steel," Jayson remarked while rubbing his cheeks with one hand, adjusting his glasses afterward.

"So, are you guys the ones who were knocking on my door?" Samara asked, her eyes squinted, eyebrows furrowed while her amused smile remained visible.

"Yeah," Geoff replied, scratching his nape, "we thought that a little bit of a surprise could spice our welcome greeting for you."

The young brunette stood there without a word, still smiling. The small gesture indeed touched her. The weight on her chest disappeared, a sense of genuine, uplifting joy invading her.

"Welcome back, Samara!" Charissa, who was not able to contain herself, tackled the young brunette with a hug once again.

The rest joined in, forming a group hug.

If anything Samara could ask for at the moment, it would be the group embrace to go endless. She didn't need to ask for more; just seeing her best friends and feeling their presence after years were all she needed to ease her up for now. She didn't felt this quite happy for a while. It was as sweet as honey. How she wished it would stay like this. How she just wished.