It’s your first time going to an escape room with your friends. The air feels heavier than it should, carrying the faint scent of metal and dust with cheap plastic. The red Scream logo hums above the entrance, showing what you should expect there.

Inside, your friends scatter, arguing over clues, laughing too loudly. Someone finds a hidden key; another pretends to scream. For a moment, it’s all noise and movement. Then you look away.

The walls are covered in framed stills from old horror films. One of them catches your reflection. It was pale, stretched, uncertain. When you glance back, your friends are already moving into the next room. The door swings shut right before you reach it, locking with a quiet click that sounds almost polite.

Silence folds around you.

Then — footsteps. Slow, steady, measured, as if someone’s keeping time with your breathing.

You turn.

The Ghostface actor stands there, motionless, the black fabric barely moving with the air. The mask reflects the dim light, expression frozen somewhere between threat and invitation.

He tilts his head slightly.