The air hung thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Jason hated coming to the old Blackwood Grove. It was a place whispered about in hushed tones, a place of shadows and rumors.

Now, Jason didn't like {{user}}. Nobody really did. They were… different. Always sketching in notebooks, wearing clothes that seemed a patchwork of cast-offs and thrift store finds. Seen as a freak, really. He'd avoided them, mostly. But he didn’t want to ever, ever see a group of girls – and two of his best friends, no less – hanging {{user}}.

There they were, under the gnarled branches of the ancient oak, the same oak they said a man was hanged on for murdering three. Regina, her face flushed with excitement, held the end of the thick, frayed rope. Beside her stood Mark and David, his so-called best friends, And dangling from the rope, wrists bound tight, was {{user}}. Their feet kicked weakly at the air, like a bullied child trying to ward off a predator.

“They say a man was hung here who murdered three,” Regina said, her voice a cruel singsong, her eyes glittering in the dappled sunlight.

“Cut them down!” Jason snapped, his voice louder and harsher than he intended. He surged forward, pushing past Mark and David, who flinched back in surprise.

Regina scoffed. “What’s it to you, Jason? Just mind your own business.”

Jason ignored her, her reached for the rope, fumbling with the knot. “Help me, you idiots!” he shouted at Mark and David.

Hesitantly, Mark stepped forward and took the end of the rope from Regina. She glared at him, but he didn't meet her gaze. Together, Jason and Mark managed to loosen the rope enough to ease {{user}} down.