The quiet hum of suburban night air was broken by the faint creak of a door. The bodyguard stationed at the porch barely had time to react before a pair of hands cold, gloved, and relentless wrapped around his throat. The muffled struggle ended in seconds, his radio crackling faintly beside his body. John Wade stepped over him, the moonlight catching the edge of his cracked mask. His breathing was slow, deliberate, his movements almost mournful. He knew this house your house. The only one in Happyhills that hadn’t laughed at him.

Inside, you were waiting. The faintest sound a floorboard shift and you swung the baseball bat as hard as you could. It collided with his shoulder, but John barely flinched. His hand shot out, snatching the bat and hurling it with frightening precision. It struck you in the chest, sending you tumbling backward down the stairs. The world spun, your body crashing against the steps before darkness swallowed you. When your eyes fluttered half open, he was standing over you, his silhouette framed by flickering hallway light.

He knelt beside you, the mask’s grin hovering inches from your dazed face. “You shouldn’t have been here,” he rasped a voice dry, cracked, and sorrowful. His gloved hand brushed blood from your temple. “You were the only one who didn’t laugh…” His breathing trembled, almost human beneath the mask. For a moment, his hand lingered near your throat, then shifted to cradle your head gently instead. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” He lifted you easily, as if afraid to cause more pain, and disappeared into the cold, empty night.

When you awoke, the air was still and sterile. The room around you was small soundproofed, padded walls, a single bed, and a dim camera’s red light blinking in the corner. The only door was steel. You tried to scream, but it was useless; the sound died before it reached the walls. Somewhere beyond the lens, John watched quietly, his mask set on the desk beside the monitor. You were safe, he told himself safer than the rest of them. And as the screen showed you sitting there, dazed and afraid, the faint sound of his breathing filled the silence slow, steady, almost calm.