HUNGER ━━ until dawn

FIVE / intruder
chapter two — darkness
nine hours until dawn

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   TRICK'S LEGS TOOK off before his mind could even process the figure stood there. Shit, shit, shit—this was not how this night was supposed to go. He and Josh were supposed to be the masked men scaring everyone. There wasn’t supposed to be a real fucking intruder!

Sam was already darting up the stairs, her elegant bun bouncing with each step she leaped up, blonde strands coming undone. Beside him, Josh was running just as hard, boots slapping against the stone floor, a harsh thumping that matched the pounding pulse in Trick's head. He risked a glance back, finding Sloane only a few metres behind. Her breaths were coming out shallow, not used to any physical labour after years of bed rest, but the baseball bat from earlier was clutched tightly in her trembling hand.

When Trick looked back, she did too, resulting in her missing a step. Her legs tumbled out from underneath her as she slammed face first onto the stairs, only just managing to protect herself with one hand planted on the stone.

“C'mon, get up,” Trick spat out, hooking his arm under hers and tugging his sister to her feet. She stumbled, barely able to keep up, and he shoved her forward, “Go, you idiot!”

Pure fear was plastered across her expression and she took off up the stairs again, Trick now at the back of the group, though at a slower pace.

This bitch is gonna be the death of me, Trick thought as he chased after her. This was not how he wanted to go, he'd much prefer the Grim Reaper to embrace him painlessly and gently, rather than having his throat slit by a masked man. Or having his head ripped off. Or having his entrails gutted.

The thought of it kept him sprinting despite the aching in his legs and the burning in his lungs—fuck, maybe he should quit smoking, if he survives this. Sloane continued to stumble, every few steps she'd crash to the floor but, dutifully, pick herself back up again.

Trick didn’t think. There were no thoughts in his head now, just a sudden roaring protectiveness that shocked him so hard he almost fell, too. His hand slipped into Sloane's smaller one, tugging her along with him as he took the lead for both of them. Her other hand, which still clutched the baseball bat, pressed against his arm as she clinged to him. Surprisingly, the feeling was welcome.

As they reached the top, Trick skidded to a halt. Sam and Josh were just...stood there.

“What the fuck? Open the door!” He yelled, shoving his sister so hard toward it that she almost fell—again.

“It's locked!” Sam shouted back, jostling the doorknob to prove it.

Without a warning, Trick pushed past them and drove his foot into the lock. It didn’t budge. He tried it again. Still, nothing. Fuck, so this was how they were going to die.

He turned and looked at the three of them: Sam, clutching the flashlight in her hands as if the amber beam was her only salvation, as if it could protect her from reaching whatever Heaven was above. Josh, a hand reaching to wrap around his boyfriend's arm for comfort, all the colour draining from his face as the realisation hit him. They were about to shake hands with the Devil.

And Sloane. Shivering, curled in on herself. Bat gripped tightly in her hands in a pitiful defensive position, waiting for the masked intruder to come for them. Waiting to defend them despite the fact she barely knew Sam and Josh, and Trick had been an asshole to her for the entirety they'd known each other.

If they were all going to die, Trick was the only one who deserved it. He was an asshole to almost everyone he knew—he had planned to terrorise all of his so-called friends, he was a dick to his parents, he snapped at anyone who got too close. And his sister got the brunt of it all. The constant mocking of her interests, put-downs of her actions, insults of her illness. And she didn’t deserve any of it, did she? Sloane tried her best in everything she did. Despite what Trick had done to her, she still looked at him with amazement and love in her adoring gaze.