They crashed through the woods, the chill night air gnawing at their skin, the trees looming over them like twisted, skeletal fingers, their secrets whispered to the shivering wind. Their breathing shallow and stuttered, their eyes empty, their motion mechanical, their bodies still constricted by the remnant of Sally's spat curse. The portal creaked before them, its rim fraying like a torn wound, the air surrounding it heavy with the smell of charred meat and rotting wood.
They pushed through, their bodies contorting and straining as the world convulsed outside, their breath trapped in their throats. They crawled out the other side, the world steadying in a sickening jolt, the coppery smell of blood and vomit stinging on their lips. They stood upright in the faint, shuddering light of their old house, the walls groaning, the shadows stretching out bony and long over the broken tiles.
"It's… our house," Margo panted, her own voice a breaking, crackling thing. She looked at Lei, his face white and pinched, his eyes black and empty. Vielle's gasps of air were rough and desperate, her trembling fingers against the sides of her.
They slouched without thought, their bodies tense, their eyes dull and unfocused, their hearts hollow drums beating in their chests. They collapsed into the creaky, squeaky chairs on either side of the kitchen table, their hands waving against the splintered wood, their breathing shallow, their eyes glassy and faraway.
"I… I don't want to do this," Lei whispered, his voice shaking, his hands closing away from the cold air. "I don't… I can't…"
The blade of the knife sparkled on the counter, its sharpness and brilliance like ice, the handle chilled against Margo's shaking hands. She reached out for it, slowly and deliberately, the metal shuddering against her hand. Lei and Vielle moved along beside her, their eyes dark, their breaths taken away and coarse, their fingers clenching against the chill in the air.
Footsteps echoed behind them, hesitant and slow, the groan of old wood, the rustle of cloth against coarse stone. Their parents came in, their faces twisted with concern, their eyes wide and glassy in the darkness. The world froze, the shadows creeping in, the air heavy and thick.
"Margo?" her mother whispered, trembling, eyes wide and brimming with tears. "What… what is it, sweetie? Why are you—"
Knives flashed. Steel sliced flesh with a wet, sickening crunch, the air heavy with the bitter, metallic stench of fresh blood. The blades sank deep, the flesh tearing like damp paper, the muscles tearing, the bones shattering beneath their wild, mad slashes. Blood spat, warm and wet, soaking into their clothing, splattering on their faces, pooling on the cracked, stained floor.
"No! Margo, stop!" his voice cut through the thick, sick air, harsh and desperate, his hands out to her, his eyes wild and staring, his breathing short, raw gasps. "Please, please, stop!"
The world returned to reality. The fog lifted, the spell was dissolved, and they backed away, gulping great jagged draughts of air, eyes wild and wide, shaking hands, knives falling from their bloody fingers, thudding onto the tile with a clatter.
"What… what did we do?" Lei whispered, his voice a splintered, shaking thing, his eyes wide and wet, his breathing in small, sharp gasps. "Margo… what did we do?"
Their parents collapsed, their bodies spastic, their eyes rolling upwards, their hands flailing in the air, their mouths open in silent, throat-constricted screams. The blood seeped out rapidly, pooling into the cracks of the tile, the air heavy with the scent of copper and terror.
Margo backed away, her legs trembling, her chest convulsing, her heart a frantic, irregular pounding. She tried to open her mouth and scream, but she couldn't, her throat constricted tight with fear and shock.
The world went out of focus. The voice of the sirens came in, the blinding, searing lights cutting through the darkness, the air filled with the bitter, acrid smell of antiseptic and burned rubber. They were pulled out of the house, their bodies dripping blood, their hands sticky and shaking, their eyes wild and empty.
The lights in the hospital were too harsh, the walls too white, the air too sterile. Margo staggered through the corridors, taking great, jagged breaths, her eyes darting from patch of shadow to patch of shadow, her mind a mangled, knotted web of terror and confusion.
"Lindsay," Margo whispered, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes welling up with tears and craziness. She reached out towards the gurney, her hands extended, shaking, the atmosphere around her heavy and cold.
Lindsay reclined on a gurney, eyes open, tears of shock, hands locked to her throat, gasping a harsh, bubbling rasp. The physicians moved rapidly, their speech a hard, staccato crack, their hands quick and somber, moving with the skilled delicacy of a vulture pecking at a fresh carcass. Margo's breath was trapped, her heart a wild, spasmodic pounding, her fingers spasm-ing against the cold, aseptic air.
"I'm sorry, Lindsay…" Margo whispered, her voice a brittle, broken thing. She reached out, her fingers trembling, her heart clenching. "I didn't mean—"
Lindsay's eyes found hers, sharp and cold, her lips pulling back into a twisted, bitter sneer. "You lied to me, Margo," she rasped, her voice a wet, broken thing. "You're a killer."
Margo shrank back, caught breath in her throat, icy empty vessel where her heart was. She felt the gaze upon her, the whispers in the antiseptic halls, the shadows lengthening and thinning, closing around her.
And then the monitors screamed. Crisp, sharp beeps ringing out through the cloying, heavy quiet, the green on the screens reducing to a straight, flat line. Lindsay's body jerked, her eyes rolling back in their sockets, her hands writhing into hard, white fists. The nurses moved fast, their voices brusque, their hands sure, but too late.
Lindsay was dead.
They rolled her body to one side, the sheet taut over her face, her eyes shut, lips still curled into a sour, hateful scowl. The lights in the corridor started to flicker, the shadows darkening, growing colder, the world spinning into a knotted, entangled blackness.
Margo alone, her breathing shallow and shaking, her heart cold, dead, and heavy within her chest. She spun on her heel, her eyes large, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, her skin crawling with cold, crawling horror.
And then the darkness stirred.
"No." Margo panted, her breath constricted in her throat, her heart a chaotic, erratic beating. "No. not again."
A raw, deep, throaty growl spread along the hallway, the aroma of dampened hair and stench of death wafting about. Lights began to flicker, the darkness twisting, extending, colder, the encroaching dark covering her.