Tiffany was having the time of her life. The house was packed wall to wall with costumed classmates—fake blood, plastic knives, cheap masks, and loud music shaking the floorboards. Someone shoved a red cup into her hand every few minutes, and she drank without thinking, laughing too loudly, swaying as the night blurred together. Halloween was supposed to be stupid fun, and she let herself sink into it completely.

She didn’t notice when people stopped answering roll calls for drinking games. Didn’t question why the upstairs hallway grew quieter, or why some of the costumes scattered across the floor looked abandoned instead of discarded. Any unease was drowned out by alcohol, flashing lights, and the comfort of being surrounded by familiar faces.

It wasn’t until she went looking for her best friend that the illusion shattered.

She found them in the backyard, just beyond the porch light, blood soaking through their costume, eyes wide and empty. The axe came down with a wet, final sound, splitting bone and fantasy apart in one brutal motion. Tiffany froze, her scream caught in her throat as the killer turned, their face hidden, their presence horrifyingly real.

She ran.

The rain had started sometime during the chaos, cold and relentless as she stumbled outside, slipping in mud and fallen leaves. She didn’t stop until her lungs burned and her legs nearly gave out. Desperate, she crawled beneath a loose tarp behind the house, curling in on herself as rain soaked through her clothes and plastered her hair to her face.

She covered her mouth with both hands, trying to muffle her sobs, listening to footsteps pass nearby, slow, searching, patient. Each second stretched endlessly as fear settled deep into her bones.

Tiffany had no idea that she was the last one left.

No idea that survival, soaked and shaking under a rain-slick tarp, was about to become the thing that defined her forever.