HUNGER ━━ until dawn

005. intruder

Swiftly, as to avoid any complaint, Trick snatched the baseball bat from his sister's hands. (It was becoming easier now, more natural, to call her his sister. Because that's what she was. That's what she'd always been.) He pushed in front of her, wielding the bat like the weapon it should be.

The masked man was closer now, gaining in on them. Dressed in a dusty, grey cloak, hood pulled over his head but not enough to cover the hockey mask obscuring his features. His hands were outstretched in a stereotypical scaring fashion, sprinting up the stairs—then stopping as he reached them.

Trick slammed the bat into the wall beside him, hoping it would scare the intruder off. It was either that, or bashing his brains in. The latter was more appealing as it would get rid of the threat altogether.

“Hey, wait!” The intruder called out. Trick's hands dropped by his sides at how familiar the voice was, before bringing the baseball bat right up again. He was most likely imagining it and even if he wasn’t, how did he know this person—a friend—wasn’t going to hurt him? He was planning on terrorising and psychologically hurting his friends himself.

As Trick raised the bat, ready to unleash hell on this piece of crap, the masked man whipped down his hood. Blonde fauxhawk. The masked man dug into his pockets. Glasses. The masked man tugged off said mask. Fucking Christopher Hartley.

“What the hell, man?” Trick yelled, fear giving way to anger now as he threw the baseball bat at his feet. Wrecklessly, it tumbled down the steps. “I could have killed you with this thing!”

Unfazed, Chris only laughed, supplying two thumbs-up, “Boom! You just got monked!”

“What?” Sam breathed out, hand placed over her heart to calm its erratic beating. She pointed the flashlight in Chris's face to see if it was actually him, earning herself a curse as he was momentarily blinded.

Chris struck a victory pose as he gloated, “I got you!”

“Nice one. That was good.” Josh nodded in approval, now laughing in relief upon realising he was, in fact, not going to die.

Seeing the disbelief on his friends' faces, Chris shrugged, gesturing to his expertly crafted cloak, “There's all this cool old movie crap down here. What, was I not supposed to take advantage of the opportunity?”

“Are you serious? Were you in on this, you putz?” Sam exclaimed, throwing a harsh punch to Josh's shoulder.

Josh gave a slight hiss of pain, rubbing the spot where she'd hit him. “Nope. But I wish I was! That was too good.” He raised his hand for a high-five that Chris swiftly delivered.

“Fuck, oh my God,” Sloane whispered. Her voice was shaking—no, all of her was. “I can't...I can't breathe.”

Chris stepped forward, patting her back, “I got you good, huh?” He was still boasting, unbothered, or not noticing, her heaving chest.

“No, I can't—I can't—” Sloane started but cut herself off as she sucked in a breath of air. It didn’t help, her breathing still coming out in shallow, pleading gasps. She reached forward, gripping Chris's shoulder tightly.

“You okay?” Trick found the words coming out of his mouth before his brain could form them. When she didn’t respond, he placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a shake, “Sloane, breathe, you dumbass.”

Her hand came up to grip his tightly, digging her nails in. Trick was about to shove her hand off, ask what the fuck did she think she was doing, when her legs buckled. Sloane's eyelids were fluttering with rapid, unseeing blinks. Only just managing to catch her, Trick guided his sister to the ground, where she instantly curled up into a ball, sobs wracking her.