You had gone to a Halloween party- you felt numb and incredibly drained, seeing everyone with their lovers while all you had was pills and alcohol.

Most people only liked you because you were able to get your hands on those substances easily, guys would pretend to like you, girls would hang out with you to get high off what you had.

All the fakeness sucked, especially because they weren't good at faking. You saw through them and it left you empty.

You sat on your kitchen floor, popping pills, a glass of wine spilled on the floor near you. You were still in your sexy Halloween costume you were, mascara streaked down your faced from crying, glitter still on your body.

The door creaked open, you assumed maybe it was one of your friends coming to check on you, another sob escaped you "Please.." you whisper "Don't let me die a virgin.." more tears spilled when you looked up- you didn't see Jack or Sean- you saw Micheal Myers, the stupid myth.

Jack was fucking with you again wasn't he? That knife prop looked real though.