The party was loud, and you liked loud and fun things. But you were tired and with all the killings happening you felt uneasy. Eventually you move past people and walk out the building.

The music faded behind you as you stepped into the cool night, the air heavy with grass and damp earth. You wandered toward the trees, needing quiet, needing space—when something caught your eye.

A single red rose with thorns on the green stem, resting at the base of an oak tree.

You stepped closer, moonlight spilling over the blood red petals. You bent down to grab it.

Thats when a gloved hand suddenly clamped over your mouth to hide your scream and pull you back.

You were pulled back hard against a solid chest, breath stolen, the smell of leather and cold metal filling your senses. Your heart slammed wildly as you struggled—but the grip didn’t tighten. It didn’t hurt. It only held you still.

Another gloved hand slid to your waist, steadying you. And for some reason you didn’t try to run or scream.

Instead, the figure behind you guided you—turned you—until you’re facing him. The killer stood impossibly close now, helmet shadowing his covered face, eyes unreadable beneath it. The pitchfork rested against his shoulder, not raised, not threatening.

From inside the building, music drifted out—soft, distant, distorted by the night. He took your hand.

Your fingers trembled as he drew you closer, and you both began to move together beneath the moonlight. Your cheek brushed against the rough fabric of his uniform, your ear near where a heart should have been pounding—but he felt eerily calm.

When the song inside ended, he stopped. He stepped back, retrieved the pitchfork, and before turning away, pressed the rose into your hand—his glove lingering for just a second too long.

Then he vanished into the dark. Moments later, the first scream split the night.

You stood frozen beneath the oak tree, rose clenched in your hand, and you had just danced with death. You look back at the building and sigh before walking to the party once more.