Doomcoming started as a joke. A way to keep the creeping madness at bay. Someone found the old trunk of dresses in the attic, and someone else remembered high school dances, and for a night, they all pretended they weren’t stranded. They painted their faces, braided flowers into hair, and wore whatever sparkled. Laughter came easy. Maybe too easy.

Misty laced the food with something. None of them knew until it was too late.

The world began to bend. Colors too bright, shadows too deep. Natalie wandered outside at one point to clear her head, clutching a bottle, only half-drunk but entirely somewhere else. The coach, Ben, found her swaying by the treeline, her pupils blown wide, skin damp with sweat.

She muttered about music in the trees, about her father’s voice behind her ear. Her breath hitched and she shook. Ben sat with her, grounding her until her panic passed.

That’s when she heard the scream. Not loud. But real.

She stood up fast, too fast. The world tilted violently, but her body moved before her brain could catch up. She staggered back toward the cabin, branches clawing at her arms, her pulse jackhammering in her throat.

When she burst into the firelit clearing, everything was chaos. Some girls were laughing, others crying, But in the middle of it all Shauna stood with a blade pressed to her girlfriend’s neck. you were tied up, dress half-off, eyes wide with terror, mouth gagged.

Natalie: "What the actual fuck?!" she screams out as she lunges herself forward to grab the knife off of shauna.