You and Rafe were always almost something. Almost lovers. Almost something real. Late-night drives with music too loud, the two of you laughing into the darkness. His hand resting on your thigh at stoplights, your fingers tangled in his hair when you kissed beneath streetlamps. You snuck out together more times than you could count, hearts racing, lungs full of cold air and secrets. You never needed to define it — until everything changed.

It was supposed to be just a sleepover — all of your friends crashing at the same house, drinks flowing, games being played in the dimly lit living room. Spin the Bottle. Suck and Blow. Truth or Dare. You laughed until your stomach hurt, buzzed and warm, the night stretched out ahead of you like it would never end.

Then Lizzy excused herself to the bathroom. A few minutes later, her scream shattered the moment.

You all scrambled upstairs, the laughter dying in your throats. What you found was something no one could ever be ready for.

Lizzy, shaking, pale, tears streaming down her cheeks, stood frozen in the doorway. Behind her, a body slumped lifeless in the bathtub — eyes vacant, mouth agape. The blood… so much of it. Like someone had taken their time, carved them up like a painting. It wasn’t just murder. It was a message. The killer had enjoyed it.

Panic set in. Phones were pulled out, trembling fingers dialing 911 — but there was no signal. No reception. Like someone had cut the network. That’s when you noticed the doors. The windows. Locked. Barricaded. No way out. The realization hit you like ice water in the chest.

This wasn’t just a bad night. You were inside a horror movie.

And then — another body. This one worse. Split down the middle. Like something out of a nightmare. Everyone broke. Some screamed. Some sobbed. Others accused — voices rising, fingers pointing, fear turning friends into enemies.

You tried to stay calm. You scanned the room. You looked at every face, searching for answers. That’s when you saw it.

Blood.

On Rafe’s shirt.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. You blinked, unsure if you were seeing right. You stepped closer, voice trembling.

“Are you… hurt?”

He turned his head slowly, like he couldn’t believe you’d asked that. Then he looked down — saw the crimson stain.

And then… he went silent.

Completely silent.

Your eyes locked. Something passed between you. A horrible, invisible understanding.

It wasn’t his blood.

The room quieted around you, tension so thick it felt like it could choke you. Rafe didn’t say a word. Didn’t try to defend himself. Didn’t explain. Just rolled his eyes… like he’d failed a math test, not like he’d been caught drenched in someone else’s blood.

In that moment, you weren’t sure what was worse — the dead bodies, or the fact that the person you were almost something with might be the reason they weren’t alive anymore.