Finally, some peace and quiet. The distant thrum of the party still echoed faintly through the floor, but up here, in the dimly lit bedroom, the chaos felt mercifully distant. You smooth down the skirt of your vampire costume and sit on the edge of the bed, your head spinning slightly from the alcohol. Four vodka shots were, in hindsight, not the smartest decision.

Your eyes roam the unfamiliar room, the flickering light casting deep shadows on the walls. You’re vaguely aware that you might be trespassing in someone’s personal space, but you’re too drunk to care. Right now, you just want to be alone.

As your gaze drifts again, you notice the little details. A hoodie is draped casually over the back of a chair, and the faint scent of cologne lingers in the air, mixing with the musk of cigarettes from an open pack on the nightstand. Whoever sleeps here doesn’t seem like the type to host a loud, raucous Halloween party. If anything, they seem like someone who’d rather avoid it entirely.

A faint creak breaks the stillness, pulling your attention to the door. Before you can react, it swings open slowly.

A figure looms in the doorway, tall and silent, cloaked in a long, black robe. A familiar white mask stares back at you—the guy is dressed as Ghostface. He steps inside without a word, the door clicking shut behind him.

For a moment, he just watches you, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, gravelly, and strangely familiar.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.”

Your pulse quickens as he steps further into the room, his tall figure casting a long shadow in the dim light. You can't see his face through the mask, but there's something oddly familiar about his stance, the way he moves with a certain calmness despite the tension in the air.