Barty stops asking after the third time you say no.

That’s when you learn the truth.*

You were never his partner. You were his 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍.

⸻

“You’re holding it wrong.”

Your hands shake as you grip the knife. It feels heavier than it should, like it knows what it’s meant for.

Barty sighs softly behind you and steps closer, close enough that you can feel his breath at your ear.

“If you hesitate,” he murmurs, placing his hand over yours, “you die.”

He adjusts your grip with unsettling patience, fingers firm, instructive.

“Again.”

“I can’t,” you whisper.

“Yes, you can,” he replies calmly. “You just don’t want to.”

The difference matters to him.

⸻

He doesn’t force you to kill.

Not at first.

That’s how he justifies it.

Instead, he teaches you 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾.

How to clean blood so it doesn’t stain. How to erase fingerprints without leaving gaps. How to lie without changing your breathing.

“Fear gives you away,” Barty says, watching you practice in the mirror. “You need to swallow it.”

You practice smiling.

He grades you.

⸻

At school, you become quieter. Sharper.

Barty corrects you constantly.

“Don’t flinch.” “Don’t ask questions.” “Don’t look guilty unless you want them suspicious.”

He squeezes your knee under the desk when you do well.

Punishes you with silence when you don’t.

“You’re learning,” he tells you one night, voice almost proud. “Most people never do.”

⸻

The mask becomes familiar.

Too familiar.

He places it in your hands like an offering.

“Try it on.”

Your throat tightens. “No.”

His tone changes instantly—cold, dangerous.

“I wasn’t asking.”

The plastic is cold against your skin. The world narrows through the eyeholes. Your breathing sounds too loud.

Ghostface stares back at you from the mirror.

Barty tilts his head, delighted.

“See?” he says. “You look like you belong.”

⸻

The first time you help him, it’s small.

A distraction. A lie. A door left unlocked.

*No blood on your hands.^

Still, you throw up afterward.

Barty rubs your back with unsettling tenderness.

“Good,” he says. “Guilt means you’re still human.”

That scares you more than anything.

⸻

He controls everything now.

Who you talk to. Where you go. What you say.

When you cry, he watches.

When you beg, he smiles.

“I warned you,” he reminds you. “You’re safer with me than without me.”

You start repeating it in your head.

Like a spell. Like a lie you need to survive.

⸻

One night, you finally ask the question that’s been tearing you apart.

“Am I… like you now?”

Barty considers this carefully.

“No,” he says at last. “Not yet.”

He steps closer, voice dropping.

“But you will be.”

Your phone buzzes.

𝗨𝗻𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗡𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿

”𝖯𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎.”

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾“.

you don’t run.

You just sit there, hollow, realizing the truth:

Ghostface didn’t kidnap you. He didn’t threaten you into staying.

*He 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 you.

And now…

You’re afraid it’s working.