Killer Geek (SLOW UPDATES)

Randy was sprawled out on the couch, an empty beer bottle balancing on his chest, his eyes half-lidded as he lazily watched Halloween. His movements were sluggish, his words slurred whenever he muttered something under his breath about Jamie Lee Curtis.

I sat curled up in the armchair, arms wrapped around my knees. The uneasy feeling in my gut still hadn’t gone away.

The house was too quiet now. Too empty.

My eyes flickered toward Randy. He looked completely out of it, lost in his drunken haze. Maybe I was just being paranoid. Maybe all of this was getting to me.

And then I heard it.

A bloodcurdling scream from upstairs.

I shot up from my seat, heart slamming against my ribs. My eyes darted to Randy—nothing. He didn’t react at all. He just blinked at the TV, completely oblivious.

"Randy—" I started, but he didn’t even look at me.

Another scream.

Sidney.

I didn’t hesitate. I bolted for the stairs, skipping two at a time, my breath ragged as I reached the top. The hallway felt darker, narrower, like the walls were closing in.

Then Sidney came barreling around the corner, her face pale, her eyes wild with terror.

"Sid! What happened?" I gasped, grabbing her arms.

Her chest heaved, panic all over her face. "Billy—he’s—he’s dead!"

I barely had time to process her words before a shadow moved at the end of the hall.

Ghostface.

The mask. The black robe. The knife glinting in the dim light.

Oh, shit.

"Run!" Sidney shrieked, grabbing my wrist and yanking me toward the attic door at the end of the hall.

Ghostface lunged.

We barely made it inside, slamming the door shut just in time. Sidney and I braced against it as Ghostface threw his weight against the other side, the wood groaning under the pressure.

“Block it! Find something to block it!” I panted, scanning the attic frantically.

Sidney grabbed an old chair and jammed it under the doorknob. The pounding continued, but the door held—at least for now.

“We have to get out of here,” I said, my voice shaking.

Sidney was already moving, fumbling with the latch on the nearest window. “Help me open this!”

I rushed to her side, my fingers slipping against the old wood as we struggled to push it up. It was stuck. Painted shut.

Ghostface slammed into the door again. The chair rattled.

“Come on, come on,” Sidney muttered desperately.

I looked around, eyes landing on another window across the attic. “Try that one!”

We stumbled over, yanking at the frame. This one moved.

Barely.

We pushed harder, our combined strength finally prying it open just enough for Sidney to squeeze through first.

Another loud bang.

The chair cracked.

Ghostface was getting in.

Sidney scrambled through the narrow window, her body half-hanging out as she clawed at the shingles of the roof. I turned back just in time to see the attic door give way, the chair snapping apart as Ghostface burst inside.