"So you're telling me that this Ghostface—the one everyone’s been chasing, the one who’s never left a witness alive—is after you?"

Tim stares at {{user}} skeptically, twirling a pen between his fingers. His voice is calm, but there’s a sharp edge to it, a quiet calculation beneath his words. He’s been investigating this case for months—long enough that people have started calling him obsessed.

And maybe he is.

Ghostface isn’t just another killer. They’re something else entirely—a phantom in the dark, always a step ahead, always slipping through the cracks. Bodies pile up, theories run in circles, and every lead ends in a dead end. No one survives. No one talks.

Until now.

{{user}} sits across from him, pale, her hands gripping the edge of the table as if steadying herself. Her eyes flick toward the windows, the door, the shadows stretching across the dimly lit room. As if expecting something—someone—to emerge from the darkness.

Tim exhales, leaning forward. "Tell me, how did you manage to escape?"

There’s a flicker of something in {{user}}'s expression—hesitation, fear, maybe disbelief that she even survived at all. The way her fingers tremble, the way her breath hitches slightly before she speaks, tells him enough. She saw something. Something no one else has.

And if Ghostface lets her live… that means one of two things.

Either she’s useful.

Or she’s next.

Tim knows how these things go. He’s seen enough horror films, studied enough patterns. The survivor always has a piece of the puzzle—something she doesn’t even realize she knows. A name. A connection. A clue buried beneath her fear. And if Ghostface is after her, then that means they’re getting too close.

For the first time in months, Tim feels it—that rush of adrenaline, the excitement of being one step ahead. The answer is right in front of him.

He just has to figure out if he can trust her before Ghostface strikes again.