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“Yo, check this out,” one of them says.
“Holy shit,” another one says. “Is he …?”
“Dead,” a new voice says.
“Fuck, someone beat us to it.”
To what? Murder?
I clutch the door handle tightly, my heart beating in my throat as I try to listen to their conversation. I’m too intrigued to step away, despite knowing it’s dangerous. One misstep and I’m going down as a killer or worse … I’ll end up dead right beside that pervert.
“God-fucking-dammit,” the second guy says. “I was looking forward to this.”
Wow. Did I just hear that right?
I can’t stop myself from opening the door and leaning in so the door opens to a sliver, allowing me to peek through.
Three guys wearing eerily similar white masks hover over the body. One of them, a scrawny one, grabs his hand and lifts it.
“Yup, definitely dead.”
That was the first guy, I recognize the voice.
I push the door open farther to get a good look at all three of them. They’re all in hoodies and covered up to the point that I can’t recognize a single thing.
“Well, no point in hanging around this stench then,” the second guy says. “Let’s go.”
I lean in farther to see if I can catch a glimpse of their faces because I’m invested now, and I can’t say no to my own curiosity, despite knowing the risks.
Suddenly, the third guy puts his finger against his lips. “Shh. Quiet.”
He looks around.
My heart stops.
“We’re not alone.”
Suddenly, their eyes all move around the room.
And one of them, the scrawny one, connects with mine.
LANA
“There!”
I throw open the door and rush through the hallway just as they’re about to come at me. I chuck a knife in their direction and jump into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding the first guy from grasping ahold of my leg as he throws himself at me.
The third guy jumps over the counter, but I sidestep and throw my bag into his knee, causing him to buck.
“Fuck! Come here, you little—!”
I bolt off toward the front door, but halfway through, my hair is grabbed, and I’m tugged back.
“Fuck off!” I yell.
The ribbon is ripped out of my hair, and I kick the guy behind me in the nuts.
He stumbles and grasps for his crotch with my ribbon still clutched firmly in his hand.
