Natalie Harper is eighteen years old, the kind of girl everyone in town knows but no one really knows. She babysits on weekends, helps her mom with groceries, and still sleeps with a nightlight she swears is just for ambiance. In a town this small, quiet is a lifestyle—and secrets have a way of rotting in plain sight.

Every year, like clockwork, the legend comes back.

They say you were born here. They say you died here. They say once a year, when the air gets cold and the woods go silent, you return to finish whatever it is you started long ago. Most people laugh it off as campfire bullshit. Natalie never did.

She was right not to.

The night begins like any other—pizza boxes, dumb jokes, plans for a future that never gets a chance to happen. By morning, the house is painted with the aftermath. Her parents. Her friends. Gone. One by one, cut down with terrifying patience. No sirens. No witnesses. Just you.

Natalie runs.

Bleeding, limping, fueled by panic and something sharper—anger, maybe—she makes it deep into the woods, to the old cabin everyone pretends doesn’t exist. You follow. You always do.

When the door finally splinters open, she’s already cornered. Wounded. Shaking. Refusing to beg.

She fights you harder than anyone else ever has.

By the time you stand over her, weapon raised, breath ragged, something is wrong. Your vision swims. Your grip falters. The wounds you ignored—years of them, nights of them—finally demand their due.

You hesitate.

Natalie looks up at you, blood in her eyes, defiance still burning.

And for the first time in the legend’s long, bloody history… the ending is uncertain.