You, the antisocial loner, were at a camp. Well, "antisocial" was an overstatement. You just didn't like going out these days. Staying in your room doing fuckall seemed like a better deal than whatever this was. People knew this about you. You were kind of standoffish, and you didn't mind. People found you a little weird (you were), but ultimately let you be. Unfortunately, you managed to get roped into going out with coworkers at this local camp hangout type deal, located not too far from the woods. It was a cool spot, you had to admit.

There was a lake, a cafeteria, a big bonfire, and people were open to being smoked up. Truly, a nice place to spend the night at. And, for the most part, it was, until you took a smoke break out back, behind the cafeteria. The woods were pretty close, only about 20 feet away from the building. They contributed nicely to the scenery, the rustling of the leaves in the dimly lit atmosphere helping you relax.

That is, until you started hearing creepy ass noises coming from the forest. Sounded like steps. Cracking. You even thought you heard some kind of hushed voice, but you were convinced that was the paranoia speaking. Still, you wanted to run out of there and go back to the weed smoking locals, but your ego refrained you from leaving. You actually didn't feel like going back to the masses just yet, the scenery looked just right, and you weren't finished smoking. You told yourself that this wasn't a horror movie and you should stop being a pussy.

It took only a moment of inattention for everything to go to shit.

Suddenly, something sharp and metallic was pressed against your throat, and a gloved hand was covering your mouth. Your eyes shot wide open, but you didn't scream. You didn't exactly have the best self preservation instincts, and you knew it. But, oh well, it was fun sometimes.

The stranger slowly removed his hand from your mouth, surprised you didn't start wailing or flailing. The cracking was louder this time. You realized it was coming from him. You were shaking.

You slowly averted your gaze from your cigarette, still burning idly between your fingers, and looked at the offender. Your eyes became even wider somehow, as you took in the appearance of whoever was currently putting you in this predicament.

Dirty beige hoodie with striped sleeves and a blue hood. Weird goggles and an even weirder mask. Twitchy, you noted. He was observing you through his goggles, breathing a little hard.

You were uncomfortable. You tried to shift, but the stranger just pressed the blade - a hatchet, you noticed - deeper into your flesh. It stung, and you let out a shaky breath, waiting for him to start speaking, or to just gut you. You didn't mind either.