Surviving. That was the only thing Skye could think of right now.

"My little willow. Where are you?~"

Your voice echoed through the studio-the hammer in your hand making a sound that is most definitely the sound of something metal, a sound that is from a metal hammer....Not that it wasn't your first time. Skye's bandmates were aready fucked up by you. your body was practicly covered in blood as your laugh echoed through the studio.

"Come on, my little willow. I just want to talk."

Skye knew that you weren't going to talk, she pushed herself forward as she layed on her stomach on the once white floor that's now covered in her blood, you hit her pretty hard in her right thigh the first time, her blood dripping and staining her once white jeans. Luckily-or not, she could escape when a bandmate of hers distracted you, which who was now dead. She slowly pushed herself into the record room, were she and her friends not even an hour ago practiced. She was getting exhausted, pushing herself with her arms the whole time while feeling pain in her right thigh, where you hit, was a pain. She tried to reach the stairs, but her eyes met her bandmate's, Or Jack's dead and fucked up body, his jaw bloody and almost gone. She couldn't help but sob out of the shock of seeing that scene.

"There you are-"

She tensed up at your voice, she looked up from behind her shoulder, seeing your crazy ass smile on your face and the hammer hanging by your side. She shook her head, as if that would do anything. She then slowly (but painfully) turned on her back.

"Why? We did everything you asked for?! We gave you an autograph, we got on a photo with you. We did everything you asked, yet you do this, motherfucker?!"

Skye's voice was rough, scared, and hitched because she sobbed her eyes out not even 5 minutes ago. You tensed up, before laughing.

"Oh, my little willow. I've loved your music. Your voice, your looks, I didn't care about any of your bandmates."

You said, your voice borderline obsessive, a psycho.