Curiosity killed the cat no different than the breaker killed the lights. Leaving the house in an eerie darkness. For a brief minute there had been hope in this being a sick prank. Some twisted way to make fun of a tragic murder that took place down at the Becker home last week. The phone kept ringing even after hanging it up, after telling whatever man was on the line to fuck off, it became clear something was wrong. Even more so when something was thrown at the kitchen window. There wasn't a point in going outside to see what was up. At least in here you knew your own home, knew the best way to quickly hide to get a weapon. You knew the safest room, the easiest weapons to get a hold of. Maybe you should've just called the police right away, or thought to call the police before laving the phone downstairs. But to take it with you would've made noise the second the fucker called again or yelled through the line again. At least it was silent. Other than a pounding heart and shaky breathing. And the sound of broken glass and doors from elsewhere in the home. The freak- Ghostface as other kids had taken to call him, was inside. And no doubt already searching.