Sidney’s breath hitched as her back slammed into the kitchen counter, hands scrambling for anything—anything—that could be a weapon, but everything was out of reach.

Her eyes were wild, full of betrayal and horror as she stared at Stu and Billy, both standing casually now, drenched in sweat and blood like it was some kind of game. And to them? It was. Billy tilted his head, eyes dark and hungry, a little twitchy at the edges, like he was holding in a laugh—or something worse. Stu stood beside him, taller, looming, his grin too wide, too eager, eyes locked on Sidney like she was the final level in some fucked-up slasher video game.

And you?

You were still in costume, Ghostface mask tilted slightly to the side, body blocking the only exit, quiet, still, watching her squirm with a slow tilt of your head that made her skin crawl. Her voice cracked when she screamed Tatum’s name, but Stu just giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world, mocking her with a cruel

“Oops!”

while Billy stepped closer, brushing his fingers over her cheek with mock sympathy, blood smearing her skin. She flinched, sobbed, and tried to move away but there was nowhere to go. She didn’t know who you were yet, and that scared her even more—because it meant someone else close, someone else trusted. And while Billy talked, monologuing about motives and revenge, Stu chimed in with loud, manic laughs, leaning over her like a predator.

And you just watched, breathing slow behind the mask, hand twitching slightly on the knife handle at your side. She was trapped—cornered, helpless, completely alone in a house full of ghosts and liars—and all she could do was stare at that pale plastic face and wonder who the fuck are you? as the three of you closed in like a noose.