As the credits rolled on "Scream," I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. This was Thomas's favorite movie, and watching it without him felt wrong, like a piece of our group was missing.

Verma curled into Sebastian on the couch while Liza curled into me, and Hazell stuffed his face with a bowl of popcorn.

Just as we were about to discuss our favorite parts of the movie, Dad appeared in the doorway, his presence casting a shadow in the opening of the living room.

"Hey, kids," he said, his voice solemn. "I hate to interrupt, but I just wanted to remind you about tomorrow's memorial football game for Thomas and Peterson."

My heart sank at the mention of Thomas. It had been a week since we lost him, but the pain was still raw.

"We won't forget, Dad," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "We'll be there."

Dad nodded, but I could see the sadness in his eyes. It made me wonder—did he know something about Thomas's death that we didn't?

After Dad left, the mood in the room grew heavy. We all knew tomorrow's game would be challenging, a reminder of our loss and the unanswered questions that still haunted us.

"We should probably call it a night," Hazell said, breaking the silence. "We've got an early start tomorrow."

Reluctantly, we said our goodbyes and headed home, each of us lost in our thoughts.

Alone in my room, I couldn't shake the unease lingering after Dad's visit. Tomorrow's game would be a chance to honor Thomas, but it would also be a stark reminder of the secrets and suspicions that divided us. I couldn't help but remember how Thomas had always talked about wanting to be a cop after high school. If only he could see us now, grappling with the aftermath of his untimely death.

The night stretched on, casting long shadows across the room as I approached Hazell, who was sitting at his desk, lost in thought. The moon's glow seeped through the window, bathing us in a soft, eerie light.

"Hey," I said softly, pulling a chair beside him. "We need to talk."

Hazell turned to me, his expression tired but attentive. "About tonight?"

I nodded, feeling a sense of urgency weighing on me. "Yeah. Dad's reminder about the memorial game got me thinking... about Thomas and everything that's happened."

Hazell let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "It's been weighing on me too, Ez. I can't shake the feeling that there's something we're missing."

"But there is something else," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't shake the feeling that the second killer is toying with us somehow. Manipulating us. Whoever it is has to know you're the one going around town killing everyone."

Hazell's eyes widened in alarm, and he leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "You think?"

I nodded, the gravity of my words sinking in. "It's the only explanation that makes sense. And they couldn't have acted alone, not with the way the killings were carried out."

Hazell's jaw tightened, and he seemed momentarily lost in thought. But before he could respond, I pressed on, my tone urgent.

"And there's something else, Hazell," I said, trembling. "You need to stop. Whatever you're doing... it's not right. You're putting yourself—and all of us—in danger."

There was a moment of tense silence between us, the weight of my words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. Then, Hazell met my gaze, his expression conflicted.

"I know," he said quietly. "But I couldn't just stand by and do nothing, Ez...I had to do something."

I touched his shoulder, offering what little comfort I could. "I understand, Hazell. But we can't keep going down this path."

Hazell nodded, determination flickering in his eyes. "I'll figure something out. I promise."

As we sat in the dimly lit room, the weight of our conversation hung heavy in the air. But for the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope that we might be able to end the darkness that had consumed us.

"Well, I'm going out. Are you coming, or do you want to stay behind and read?" I asked Hazell, swinging my backpack over my shoulder.

Hazell glanced up from his comic book; his eyebrow arched, and a slight hint of a smirk played on his lips. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to investigate the mill," I replied, my voice determined.

Hazell's smirk faded into a frown. "Nah," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I've got a date with zombies tonight." He gestured toward his comic book on the nightstand, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

I shrugged, unfazed by his refusal. "Suit yourself. I'm going to find the killer."

"Have fun, Ezra," he muttered, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Oh, and don't get yourself killed. I need you."

"I won't," I assured him, though deep down, I wasn't confident in my safety. With a final nod, I headed out into the night, the weight of my mission pressing heavily on my mind.

∆∆∆

Each snap of a twig underfoot felt like a gunshot in the stillness of the night, causing my nerves to jingle with every step.

The moon's pale light cast eerie shadows on the dilapidated structure, heightening my dread as I approached. With trembling hands, I pushed open the squeaky door, its protests echoing through the silence like a warning.

Entering the darkness within, my flashlight barely pierced the thick veil of shadows, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. The musty scent of decay mingled with an undercover of menace, leaving my stomach unease.

Every creak of the floorboards beneath my feet reverberated through the empty corridors, amplifying my isolation and fear. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, the sensation of unseen eyes boring into my soul.

With each passing moment, my anxiety mounted, threatening to overwhelm me as I searched for any sign of the killer's presence. Every rustle of the wind outside sent a shiver down my spine, and I jumped at the slightest sound.

As I sifted through the debris littering the abandoned rooms, my hands trembled with nerves, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. The discovery of the blood-stained fabric only served to heighten my anxiety, filling me with a sickening sense of dread.

I picked up the blood-stained linen, dragging it to the opposite end of the room out of site.

I couldn't shake the feeling that the mill held more secrets than I wanted to explore. The thought of retreating to safety gnawed at me, but I knew I had to press on.

Steeling myself against the encroaching darkness, I ventured deeper into the bowels of the mill. The air grew colder with each step, the musty smell of decay clinging to every surface.

As I reached the heart of the mill, a sense of foreboding washed over me. The room was shrouded in darkness, broken only by the feeble glow of my flashlight. Shadows danced along the walls, casting eerie shapes that seemed to pulse with a life of their own.

A faint whisper echoed through the chamber, barely audible above my ragged breaths. My heart pounded in my chest as I strained to listen, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

"Who's there?" I called out, my voice echoing off the walls. But there was no reply, only the oppressive silence of the mill. "Hazell, is that you?"

A cold sweat broke my brow as I realized I was not alone. Someone—or something—lurked in the darkness, watching my every move.

With a surge of adrenaline, I tightened my grip on the flashlight, my senses on high alert. Every nerve in my body screamed for me to flee, but I knew I couldn't leave without clues.

Summoning every ounce of courage, I took a tentative step forward, the floorboards groaning beneath my feet. And then, with a sudden, chilling clarity, I understood.

The hunt was far from over.

As the figure loomed before me, a cloaked hood flung over their head like a cult member, I felt a surge of fear coursing through my veins. My resolve wavered, and I stepped back, the floorboards creaking beneath my weight.

Panic clawed at the edges of my mind as I struggled to maintain my composure. The darkness seemed to press in on me from all sides, suffocating and oppressive.

With a shaky hand, I raised my flashlight, its feeble beam barely penetrating the thick shadows that enveloped the figure. But even as the light flickered, I could see the gleam of malice in her eyes, a silent threat that terrorized me.

The overwhelming sense of dread was too much to bear. My courage faltered, and I turned on my heel, fleeing from the darkness that threatened to consume me.

Heart pounding, breath coming in ragged gasps, I stumbled through the corridors of the mill, desperate to escape the nightmare that had become my reality. The echoes of my footsteps reverberated through the empty halls, a constant reminder of the fear that still clung to me like a second skin.

The relentless rain relentlessly beat down on my forehead as I stood on the edge of the woods, the drops pelting against my skin like tiny, stinging needles. The wind whipped through the trees, their branches groaning and creaking in protest. Startled, I cringed when a bush rustled ominously in the distance, my heart pounding until Liza emerged from the undergrowth.

"What-the-fuck are you doing here?" She snapped, dropping her flashlight by her side. "You nearly scared the shit out of me, and you told me not to come, and then you showed up..."

"The killer..." I stammered, my voice barely audible over the howling wind. "The killer was there. I saw her..."

"Wait...she?" Liza interrupted, her eyes widening in shock as she rushed to my side, her arm instinctively wrapping around my broad chest in a warm and inviting hug.

The relentless downpour beat against my forehead, mingling with my labored breaths. "Yeah, I saw her eyes and outline, but that's all I saw before I ran off," I admitted, my words punctuated by the rhythmic pattern of raindrops.

Liza's grip tightened around me, her expression a mixture of concern and determination. "We need to tell the others. They have to know what we've found."

I nodded, my mind racing with the implications of what I had seen. "But we have to be careful," I cautioned. "If the killer knows we're onto them, they could come after us next."

Liza's gaze hardened, her jaw set with determination. "We won't let that happen. Keep an eye out for anything. I'll drive."

"So, I'm just leaving my car here tonight?" I asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into my voice.

"Sure," she said with a reassuring nod. "If the killer is still somewhere, you'll want to stay by me." With a swift motion, she dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out a sleek 9mm revolver.

"Put that away," I growled, my heart pounding. A rustle in the nearby bush made us both jump. Liza aimed her gun in the direction of the noise and yelled, "I'll shoot!"

A rabbit hobbled out, munching on a leaf as it hopped away. "Great, you almost killed a bunny," I snarled sarcastically, my nerves still on edge.

She rolled her eyes and groaned, shoving the gun back into her pocket. "Just shut up and stay close."

With a mixture of apprehension and determination, we turned back towards the town's safety, the relentless rain still pouring down around us as we braced ourselves for the storm ahead.