you could barely even watch a scary movie without shivering in fear, so why did chris think it was a good idea to drag you to a haunted house? the carnival was pretty, you admit to that, and the smell of popcorn made your mouth water, but the haunted house made you wanna puke.

it was the scare actors that loitered outside that made it worse for you too; clad in ripped costumes and scarily accurate makeup, their sinister grins and contact eyes making your stomach churn. they stalked the crowd, creeping up behind people to hear their screams of terror.

you feel a knot tighten in your chest, a mix of dread and embarrassment as you cling to your friend's arm, desperately hiding your face in her shoulder as you near closer and closer towards the house.

but then, much to your dismay, nate swoops in and hoists her over his shoulder, laughing as he dashed into the haunted house. you stand frozen outside the entrance, your heart pounding in your ears as you help up the queue. worst of all chris is fucking mean.

there's no way you're going in there. no way. not a chance.

"move, kid," chris's voice slices through your thoughts, his hand gripping your bicep as he pulls you into the dark abyss of the haunted house before you could even protest. as the door slams shut behind you, darkness envelopes you immediately, and you can hear every little sound around you.

“it's not even scary, kid. it's pathetic," chris says disinterestedly, his tone dripping with disdain, clearly unfazed by everything. "just bein' all dramatic 'n shit.. you crybaby."

"i'm not even crying," you shoot back to defend yourself, a pout forming on your lips as you peek out from behind his arm to glare at him weakly. "and it is sca-"

before you can finish, someone leaps out of the shadows with a high pitched shriek, arms outstretched towards you, sending a jolt of pure fear coursing through you.