ethan landry had always seemed like the last person anyone would suspect. he was quiet, shy even, with a sweet demeanor that made it easy to overlook him. but something had been nagging at you for weeks. the way he would disappear at odd times, the nervous glances when anyone mentioned the killings. still, you never wanted to believe it could be him.

that all changed one night.

you were heading home, taking a shortcut through the alley behind the school when you heard something—rustling, a low groan of pain. your heart pounded as you crept closer, peeking around the corner. what you saw made your blood run cold.

ethan, standing over someone, his hand gripping a knife slick with blood. the person on the ground was barely conscious, gasping for breath. you stood there frozen, unable to process what was happening, until ethan looked up.

his eyes met yours, wide with shock, but not fear. there was something else in them, something dark. the mask of ghostface hung from his other hand, swaying slightly in the breeze.

"you... weren’t supposed to see this," he muttered, his voice low, almost calm, as if the act he’d just committed was nothing more than a routine. the softness that was once so familiar in his voice was gone, replaced by something far more chilling.

you took a step back, but ethan didn’t move to stop you. he just stood there, watching you carefully, calculating.

"i can explain," he said, his voice eerily steady. "but you have to listen, okay? this isn’t what you think."

but it was exactly what you thought, and you knew deep down that no explanation could change the fact that you had just seen ethan for who he really was: ghostface.