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Your surroundings were new ; unfamiliar as your eyes flutter open. You’re on your back, staring at the cloudless sky as the summer heat hits you from every summer. You twist awkwardly, your elbows hitting the ground and lifting you onto your knees as you still, eyeing the area that surrounds you. Heated air smacks against you again — this summer was brutal.
You pause — it was summer, wasn’t it?
“Hey, newbie!” A voice barely below a whisper is targeted at you. Turning, you see a person with a beanie covering turquoise colored hair. They rush your way, grabbing your wrist and dragging you with them to a giant machine. “No time to explain. Just put your hands near this — a generator — and they’ll do the rest. Careful of sparks.”
You do as they say, watching as their body tensed. Finally, she introduced herself quietly when she deemed the coast was clear. You clear your throat, “[Name]. Where are we?”
“Coldwind Farm.” The generator clicks and whirs as Nea pauses, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Really cranked the heat up this time.”
The generator sputters to life, a light clicking on above you and exposing you to everything nearby. Nea cusses under her breath, rising to her feet quickly and rushing away from the loud machinery. You follow after her cluelessly, bumping into her back when she stops abruptly. Nea frowns, “we need to go separate ways now.”
“But—”
“Go fix another generator,” calloused hands fall onto your shoulders. Nea squeezes reassuringly and her face switches to something else — someone else. You blink and she’s back to normal, looking around you both cautiously. “If your heartbeat begins to pick up, get away.”
She’s gone without another word and you find yourself standing there, alone and vulnerable.
Shuffling awkwardly, you hustle along a barn, eyeing the field in front of you warily. Letting out a long breath, you take a chance and sprint into the field. Nea told you to work on generators, but you felt safer out of plain view. Crouching down, you hide your face in your knees and simply sit there.
A scream echoes around you and you flinch, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet. The field sways from side to side as something — someone, maybe — drifts through it. Another scream hits — two more beams of light, showing more generators were done.
Nea would be angry when she found out you did nothing to help. But your head was aching, scrambled with new thoughts and images of the past you couldn’t forget. Someone drifts by you again and you make yourself smaller, frown on your lips as you fight a whimper. You were so confused — so lost and tattered as more thoughts piled into your mind.
All too soon, the sound of your heartbeat began to pick up. Deciding to actually listen to Nea’s advice, you pause. No sound of movement is heard over the thumps of your heart — coast is clear. Jumping up from the field, you turn and book it, only to run straight into a body.
Pink hair is falling out of a hood, knife poised and ready to strike. The faceless mask seemingly stares at you for a minute, their arm falling until the knife clutters from their hand. A sharp intake, and then the sound of your name, muttered softly from behind the mask.
A ground shaking noise is heard, the killer cursing and grabbing at their knife frantically as you make your escape. A blond is ushering people through a giant door, a bulletproof vest over his chest. His stern face drops at the sight of you, eyes widening as he watches you quicken your pace.
“Shit. Nea was right.” He follows behind you, putting his hands on your back as you pause. “Keep goin’, newbie. We’re almost home.”
Home. Home sounded so nice right now. You race into the shining light at the end of the hallway, ignoring your name as it’s called frantically behind you.
——♡——
The campfire in front of you was not home. There are too many names — too many new faces from either side of you. Nea is across the fire from you ; the man from before sat beside you. Leon is looking over you questioningly, blue eyes surveying your trembling hands and wide eyes.
“There’s not a new killer. So, why—”
“Not that we’ve seen.”
Laurie rolls her eyes, continuing as if she wasn’t just interrupted. “It doesn’t make any sense to just get a survivor, that’s all.”
An older man hums, also eyeing you. Despite the warmth of the fire in front of you, a cold chill has seeped into your being. You shiver and let out a breath — you swear you can see it fog up in front of you. “Could be late, the killer. Make us comfortable and off guard, only for a new killer to show up.”
“I,” you lick your lips. The campsite grows silent as they wait for you to speak. “The one before. Who was that?”
“They call themselves Legion.” Leon is the one who lets you know. He tilts his head, “four of ‘em, I think.” His eyes travel across you again, “seemed to know you.”
“What does that mean?” Laurie speaks up again. Her eyes narrow in your direction, focusing on the way you tense up. Her gaze flicks back to Leon, “it’s a little late for their survivor to appear.”
“Called out [name] as we were leaving.” He bites his lip, attention drifting across the fire before it’s back. Leon looks down, but watches you from the corner of his eye. “Wanted to talk to you desperately.”
You shake your head before he can say anything else. You look to Laurie’s glaring figure then down as you clasp your hands together. “I don’t know anyone with pink hai—”
A giggle echoes in your mind, spiraling in your thoughts. Her face is so clear in your mind — perfectly structured and grinning as she giggles with three others. Just as quick as the thought comes, though, it vanishes.
As if it never happened.
Fog takes over Leon and Laurie, saving you from any further questions. A chill runs through you and you shrink in on yourself, arms wrapping around your torso helplessly. Mindless chatter is scattered around the campfire — it feels warm, safe here, but you miss the sight of home.
Nea plops down beside you with a huff, new fingerless gloves covering her hands. She tugs them farther up her wrist at your gaze, clenching her hands together as she tries to get used to them. “A gift. You get one if you perform well ; if you’re entertaining enough.”
“Newbie!” is called from across the campfire. The man has a heavy accent as he speaks, an arrogant grin on his face as he waves. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
That’s something you do remember Leon mentioning — the loss of memories. The longer you stayed, the foggier and more distant they became. You dreaded the day that would happen — your mind was scrambled enough.
You hum, picking at your nails nervously. Everyone’s attention is on you again — anxiety crawls up your throat. “A song. I was listening to music.”
A girl with golden hair grins, looking up from the guitar she's tuning. "What kind? I could try playing it for you."
Nodding, your eyes squint as you think of the song you remember hearing. It was so engrained in your mind — so planted into your memories that it was the one thing you could never forget. As you begin to hum quietly, Quentin perks up from across the fire. He lifts an eyebrow, "old school, huh?"
Kate nods along to the silent beat, trying her best to mimic the sound you make. She pauses, ear turned towards you as she continues. You stop abruptly and her eyes snap open. "That's all I remember."
"No words?" Nancy tilts her head.
You shrug, the corner of your mouth tilting up helplessly. "No words." Not yet, at least.
——♡——
Ghostface was your favorite killer. Which would sound strange in different circumstances — but dying daily, hourly, you were bound to get used to it eventually. He liked the chase — liked to skip and giggle and sing as he sauntered after you.
That's why you don't mind playing bait for him. He liked new survivors — only here for a few weeks [that you tried to keep up with] meant you still had newbie status. Currently, a game of hide and seek was occuring — you peeked from the side of a building when Ghostafce wasn't looking, and he'd lift up from behind the bush as he chose to giggle at you.
It made you smile — the way you could act silly in the middle of a murder spree.
Springwood always welcomed you at midnight, the moon and hazed streetlights your only source of light. As you tip-toe — Ghostie was on your trail, of course — the air swoops through. It sends a chill through you — like you're back in the snowy mountains of... somewhere.
A slam to your head sends you sprawling on the ground. Ghostface stops, his knife poised as you blink deliriously. Feng grimaces, "oops."
When your eyes blink open, you're staring at a mountain view. The tops are saturated with snow, hued a light blue and white. The door creaks open, a disgruntled figure coming into view. Their nose is scrunched as a steaming mug is headed your way.
"Here's your stupid hot cocoa."
"How stupid can it be when you have a cup, too?" You find yourself asking. Like this conversation was memorized — like this had all happened before. Your hands curl around the mug, cozying up in the bed you know isn't yours. "Why are you so grumpy today anyways?"
"Julie," they grumble. They huff, sitting beside you, as close as they could without causing a blush to form. "Won't leave me alone about new songs or her guitar or you."
Me? you want to say. But, you remember the answer you always got. 'She's sure we're soulmates — me and her. Doesn't want any of us to get hurt.'
Sweet and selfish — yeah, that was Julie.
You set your drink on the nightstand closest to you, warmed hands falling on their own. "Frank—"
Frank, your Frank. Frank, Frank, Frank. You remembered his name now — you wouldn't forget it again.
He sighs, laying his head on your shoulder. "It's me and you, I know it. It has to be."
"What if Julie's right, though?" You wrap your arm around his shoulers — you always liked being close to him, touching in the smallest bit when you could. "About us not being soulmates? We could have someone else out there."
"I don't want anyone but you."
A distraction. Frank always needed a distraction of some sort or else he'd get mad. When Frank got mad, he exploded. Something he was wokring on — something you helped him with. You jiggle your shoulder until he sits up. "Play me something."
His light beige acoustic guitar stands against the wall. Julie's lilac one is set on his desk, half of the strings missing. Another thing that points them at being perfect together — another thing that separates you. Frank sighs, his eyes pointing to the ceiling in annoyance. [He's too giddy to play for you, wanting your praise and your eyes on him only.]
Clearing his throat, Frank adjusts himself comfortably. You grab your mug, sipping on the chocolate now that it'd cooled down. His eyes narrow, “you tell anyone I sung this for you—”
“I won’t, promise!” You say it through laughter, but keep your promise regardless. The guitar strums and Franks hushed, soft voice drifts into the room. You sway in your seat, your eyes closing in comfort.
When they snap open, Ghostface is staring down at you once more. He tilts his head and you let out a gasp. "Words. I remember words."
As quickly as you can, you have Kate play the melody once more. You sing along as best as you can, the memories clearer than ever. Quentin yawns as he bops his head, the words leaving his mouth in mumbles. Leon hums your song as he works on generators, Meg speaking the words as she gets chased.
Soon, the entire camp is singing a song only you remember. And then Ghostface sings it one night while at the killer's camp.
His back is slammed into a tree, a smaller body pining him there. He raises his hands in innocence. A knife is held to his throat, "where did you hear that?"
He can't even squeak out your name before she's pulled off of him. Pink hair falls from a hood as Susie holds her friend back. Whispers of I told you! echo around the woods before they go silent.
Julie lets out a sigh, "let's hope Frank doesn't find out about this."
——♡——
The air is cold as the fog releases you from its grasp. You wish you had a thicker coat, wish you could sip on that stupid hot cocoa you keep thinking of. Quinten nods as he passes you, almost slipping from the icy ground. Your breath surrounds you in a fog as you tip-toe to a generator further away.
Steve kneels beside you to rewire the generator, huffing as his body wracks through a shiver. "Hate this place."
"I like it," you say absentmindedly. It was cold, of course, but something about the lodge in the distance seemed welcoming — familiar. Your mouth lifts into a smile, "could be cozy up there."
He snorts, "and be in the mercy of whatever Legion member is lurking? Be my guest."
Somehow, that's exactly where you find yourself. Crunching through the snow, you stare up at the barren walls. There should be paper there — pieces of ripped and weathered signs that scream missing on every inch. Signs that you stared at until your skin wrinkled and you forgot them again.
The fireplace crackles as you walk through the front door. Warmth should cover you, should comfort you, but the feeling of loss and dread crawls up your throat like nausea. You gulp — Steve was right, I shouldn't be here.
Yun-jin screams outside — she sounds close, but your feet are glued to the floor. Hurried steps crunch under the window closest to you — you only stare. Looking back is a picture of four people — five when you wipe away the dust. Staring back is a picture of you.
You don't acknowledge the tears that cloud up your eyes when the door creaks open. Heavy, booted feet inch closer to you achingly slow, your heartbeat picking up in fear. Quentin yells your name from the window and the footsteps pause.
Your body is jerked around, teary eyes facing your supposed killer of the day. The mask makes you jolt, the tattoos peeking through causing your tears to turn into sobs. The knife shakes in his hands before it falls to the floor, useless. His mask is ripped from his face, heaving breaths the only thing in the room.
As the world goes dark, your sobs grow louder.
Your head is in someone's lap as you slowly regain consciousness. You feel like you're floating — like the game you've been forced to play has been put on pause. Blinking your eyes open, you see Frank peering down at you. His eyes are rimmed red, a teardrop falling from the tip of his nose and to your cheek.
He lets out a shaky sigh, "I never wanted you to be here."
You swallow, your chest suddenly tight and your throat dry. "I thought of you," you say. Frank's chest heaves with a sob he doesn't allow to escape. "Every day. Every decade. You were the face I would dream of, but couldn't name."
Frank almost cradles you to his chest as he cries. You rub his back as well as you can, shushing him as he hiccups. When he releases you, he helps you sit up slowly. Finally face to face with him, all thoughts leave your mind. Your hand raises absentmindedly, tracing the scar you once memorized.
Frank lets out another sigh, trembling as you stare at him. "You shouldn't be here. You're too good for a place like this."
"Where are we, anyways?" Your eyebrows furrow as you take in your surroundings. Like the lodge, it's warm and familiar. You grow even more confused. "Your room? Why?"
"Dunno," he shrugs. You're gathered back into his hold, one hand settled between your shoulder blades. "Don't care."
The room around you seems to rumble at his words. You wince, meeting his eyes with a small grin. "Don't think we have long, Frank."
His shoulders sag at the sound of you saying his name. Laying his forehead on your shoulder, he takes in a deep breath. "I knew it — knew Julie was wrong. We are soulmates — we have to be."
You pull away from him briefly, lips pursed in thought. "And now you have to kill me."
"No." Frank is adament — sure in his statement. "Not you. Not ever."
The room rumbles again and you grin. "Guess she knows that, too."
——♡——
idk how satisfied i am w this one but after sitting in my drafts half done for a year, it’s finished !!
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