Michael Browne had been absent from school that day. The official reason? Fear. Anxiety. The trauma of almost losing Sidney to the masked killer. At least, that’s what he wanted everyone to think.

The real reason? He needed to lay low, to play the part of the shaken boyfriend. If he showed up at school too soon, the cops might take more interest in him. He couldn’t have that. Not after last night.

But then, he heard what happened.

Students whispering. Giggling. Mocking Sidney behind her back. Some called her a liar, saying she faked the attack for attention. Others cruelly joked that she was the killer, that she wanted to be like her mother.

It pissed him off.

Sidney was supposed to feel scared, not alone. She was supposed to need him, not feel abandoned.

That’s why, when night fell, Michael found himself sneaking out, walking the dark streets until he reached the Prescott house. The lights were still on. Good.

Moving with quiet precision, he climbed up to the open living room window. The same window he had used so many times before. Only this time, it wasn’t just some secret late-night visit.

He pulled himself through, landing softly on the floor.

Sidney was curled up on the couch, wearing an oversized hoodie, hugging a pillow to her chest. She looked exhausted, drained.

Her head snapped up at the sound of his movement.

“Michael?”