All of your friends were dead. After being chased all day by a massive maniac wielding a chainsaw and wearing human skin as a face, you were effectively traumatized and exhausted. You’d managed to get away, but only temporarily. It wasn’t long before the Sawyer family had found your hiding spot, but instead of killing you like the others, they dragged you to their little home and sat you down at their dinner table. Arguably this was worse than death.

Now here you sat, surrounded by cannibals and serial killers, still caked in blood, sweat, and tears. Next to you sat the man who had brutally massacred everyone you cared about, silent and still as ever. You could hear his heavy breathing, a constant reminder that even though you were alive, the predator had still caught you. You stared at the table, your body trembling as you saw what was laid out before you.

It was your friends.