Beneath a crescent moon, loud music blared from an old farmhouse. In the front windows, silhouettes of partiers danced.

The orange glow of cigarettes and blunts marked the locations of smokers leaning against cars in the darkness, parked along the rutted mud and gravel driveway that twisted down a grassy hill.

Lyla Perry, a pretty girl with mascara-streaked cheeks, bumped into a couple locked in a heated embrace.

"Hey, watch it," Carissa hissed, throwing back her thick mane of blonde hair.

Lyla was embarrassed to have literally crashed into her high school's power couple. With those high cheekbones and perfect facial features, Carissa Swanson was supermodel-hot. And her boyfriend was her male equal, the school's star quarterback, Jack Bentley.

Every heterosexual girl at school had fantasies involving Jack. And every hetero guy practically drooled over the captain of the cheerleading squad, the scalding-hot Carissa. She wore light skinny jeans and a gray suede jacket. There wasn't an ounce of baby fat on the girl.

"Sorry," Lyla mumbled. "I can't even get one bar." She held the phone above her head, searching desperately for a signal.

"Good luck with that," Jack grinned, his warm brown eyes peeking out from under his wool cap. "You okay?" he squinted through the darkness. "Are you crying?"

"I'm fine," Lyla nodded.

Carissa pulled Jack into a deep kiss.

A short distance down the driveway, Lyla's phone signaled two bars. She dialed excitedly.

A voicemail message. "Hey, it's Darcy. Leave me a message." BEEP.

"Where the hell are you?" Lyla sobbed. "I wanna go. Now! He's here and he won't leave me alone."

Lyla was startled when Keenan materialized like a ghost out of the shadows.

"There you are, kitten," Keenan grinned, obviously intoxicated. He looked like the devil with his narrow penetrating eyes and the blue serpent tattoo inked on his neck.

"You scared the shit out of me!" Lyla growled.

He leaned in to kiss her.

Lyla retreated. "It's over, Keenan."

Keenan laughed.

"It's been over," she crossed her arms over her chest.

He played with the zipper of his faded green bomber jacket. It was a nervous tic; a behavior he frequently exhibited when he was feeling anxious.

Lyla's ringtone startled her. It was one of her favorite old songs.

Keenan snarked, "What are you? Like twelve?"

Lyla flipped him off, checked her messages. She began texting her reply when Keenan yanked her toward him. He roughly kissed her neck, then gave her a playful bite.

"Owww!" Lyla winced.

He reached for her breast. Lyla stumbled backward and toppled to the ground. She glared up at him.

Keenan was rimmed in a hallucinogenic glow.

"What did you put in my drink?" she did her best to sound assertive.

Keenan squatted at her feet and smirked. He mocked her in a creepy little girl voice, "What did you put in my drink?" His jaw shifted like a lizard with a gummy bear stuck between its teeth.

"Get the hell away from me, Keenan. I mean it!"

"So, that's how it's gonna be?" he stood.

He extended a hand. The word SNAKE was spelled out in tattooed fingers.

Lyla slapped his hand away.

"Okay. Okay," Keenan shrugged. "Be like that." He turned, trudged off, swallowed by the shadows.

Off-balance, Lyla found it difficult to stand. Whatever Keenan had slipped into her drink was taking effect. It was coming on strong. Lyla's face was numb. Her lips buzzed. She couldn't feel the tips of her fingers.

She squinted at her phone, struggled to read the texts.

Suddenly, Keenan burst from the darkness and knocked her to the hard turf. The loud music enveloped Lyla's scream. Her cell phone bounced out of her hand as she hit the ground.

Keenan opened her belt and savagely tugged at her pants.

"Get offa me!" Lyla kicked and dug her fingernails into his neck.

"Damn you, Lyla," he roared, his eyes burning with rage.

"Leave her alone." Jack grabbed Keenan by the shoulders and threw him to the ground.

"This ain't none of your business," Keenan pointed an angry finger. "Stay out of it."

Lyla pulled up her pants and buckled her belt. She steadied herself against a parked car, still trembling from the attack. She fumbled with her purse, fished around for her car keys.

"Where do you think you're going?" Keenan snapped at Lyla.

"Back the hell off, dude," Jack stood his ground. "Something about that you don't understand?"

"Don't you got nothing better to do?" Keenan eyed the beautiful Carissa, and licked his lips salaciously.

"Leave her alone," Carissa chimed in. "You're being a total creeper."

Keenan dusted the dirt from his pants and gave Jack a steely glare. "Big, tough jock gotta stick his nose where it don't belong."

Jack clenched his fists. "You don't want to take this any further, dude. Trust me."

Keenan anxiously tugged at the zipper on his jacket, up and down, up and down as he assessed the situation. "Screw you," Keenan snarled. "I'm gonna get another beer."

Jack and Carissa watched Keenan make his wavering way back toward the farmhouse.

"You okay?" Jack rested his hand on Lyla's shoulder.

Lyla nodded. She was too embarrassed to make eye contact. There was an uncomfortable pause that seemed to go on forever.

"Sure you're okay?" he wanted a verbal answer.

Lyla finally met his gaze. With his deep brown eyes and square jaw, Jack was the epitome of teenage masculinity.

"You don't look so good," his smile revealed two rows of perfect, white teeth. "Somebody coming to get you?"

Lyla nodded. "Yeah," was all that she could manage. God, Jack was gorgeous.

Carissa looped her arm around Jack's waist. "Come on. Get me a drink."

Lyla watched Carissa lead Jack toward the farmhouse. "Damn. They look like Tom Brady and Gisele Bundchen," she grinned. "Or what they probably looked like in high school."

Lyla's momentary giddiness was doused by a wave of dread. She was alone. Isolated. A vulnerable target. What if Keenan was lurking nearby, watching? Lyla needed protection. The comfort of her car.

As the drug continued coursing through Lyla's system, she staggered and nearly fell. She was in no condition to even consider driving. But she had to escape. Every shadow that moved in the darkness seemed to be circling her like a predator waiting for its chance to pounce.

She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. She was sure Keenan could hear it, too. She felt sweaty. Lyla was tripping hard.

After what seemed like a 2-mile hike, she came upon an old, beat-up car. Her car. The rusted hinges cried out as Lyla fought to pull open the driver's door. She plopped down onto the seat, wiped her nose.

Lyla's black eyeliner created a raccoon-like ring around her eyes. Tears trailed down her freckled cheeks.

She searched her purse frantically for her phone before realizing that her painted black fingernails clenched the phone tightly in her other hand. The phone felt big and heavy.

Were those her hands? Lyla's fingers looked thick, almost like the hands of a man.

Lyla clumsily dialed Darcy. "Please, Darcy, please answer your phone," Lyla's heart pounded in her chest.

The message brought more tears. "Hey. This is Darcy. Leave me a message." BEEP.

"Shit!" Lyla screamed, suddenly startled by her attacker's voice.

"Hey, Lyla. Where you going, girl?" Keenan crouched at the window.

Lyla locked the door. "Leave me alone, Keenan!"

"You can't get away from the snake man. You know that. You're mine. Always will be. I own you, girl."

"I said get the hell away from me!"

"Come on," he raised an eyebrow. "At least take back the ring. I want you to have it." He held a gaudy ring in his palm, a silver snake swallowing its tail. Two fake red gems for eyes.

Lyla slapped his palm, the ring was launched into the darkness.

"Damn you, Lyla!" He tried the door, found it locked. "Open this door."

She pushed her key into the ignition. The engine groaned.

"No way you're driving this piece of junk, Lyla. You're too messed up to drive."

"You're too messed up to live!" She tried the ignition again. The engine briefly came to life, then died.

"Aw, girl, that was insensitive," he grinned. "You hurt me when you say things like that."

He leaned into the window and swooped in for a kiss. She spread her hand over his face and shoved him out of the window.

"Get away from me!"

Finally, Lyla's engine started and the car lurched down the driveway. It traveled thirty yards before it stalled.

Keenan hollered, "You're not goin' anywhere in that piece of crap." He jogged down the mud and gravel driveway toward her car, stumbling over the ruts.

Lyla begged the car to start. The engine didn't respond.

"You're more broken than that damn car of yours," he called. "Lucky for you, I got just the tool to fix you right up." He laughed at his crude remark.

She put her arm out the window and flipped him off.

Keenan bellowed, "I'm gonna teach you some manners, girl!"

She turned the key again. The engine groaned. In the rearview mirror, she could see Keenan closing in.

Just as he reached the tail of the car, the engine roared. Lyla stomped the accelerator. The automobile rumbled out of the driveway and down the road. The engine sputtered, but there was no way Lyla was going back.

Keenan was now nothing more than a raging silhouette, pumping his fists in the air and shouting obscenities.

Lyla wiped the tears from her cheeks with a trembling hand.

The right wheel of her car dropped off the edge of the pavement. The car bounced violently.

She yanked the steering wheel. The tire climbed back up onto the blacktop.

Lyla could not overcome the intense effects of the drugs. She focused on the yellow glow emanating from her headlights. The headlight beams sliced the darkness and bent in unusual patterns and colors. Clusters of insects danced in the light.

Lyla clenched her eyes, then opened them wide. She tried to focus with all her might. She checked her eyes in the rearview mirror. Her pupils were enormous. It looked as though she had someone else's eyes in her head.

The car stuttered. The dashboard lit up and the engine died.

Lyla cried, "No!... Oh, God, no. Please."

Her car drifted to the side of the road, rolled to a stop.

Lyla recited a quiet prayer and tried the ignition.

Nothing.

Another try. Her prayers went unanswered. The dash lights faded.

Lyla jumped when her ringtone went off. It was Darcy. Finally! Lyla sobbed so hard that she couldn't form words.

"Lyla, you still at the party?" Darcy sounded worried. "You okay?"

"I'm out on some damn country road somewhere. My car broke down."

"I can't hear you. You're breaking up."

Lyla sobbed.

Darcy pressed, "Why didn't you wait—"

"--He attacked me!"

"What?!"

"Keenan, that piece of crap tried to rape me!" Her body shook with her sobs.

"I'm coming to get you, Lyla. Where are you?"

"I don't even know. He put something in my drink, so I can't remember--."

The call cut off. When the call dropped so did Lyla's heart.

She desperately dialed again. No service. Lyla slammed down her phone, made a futile attempt to start her car.

The dim yellow lights drained from the dashboard.

Lyla sat in the silent blackness. She looked out at the ominous countryside, cried quietly, bit her quivering lower lip.

Lyla stepped out onto the roadway, zipped her pleather jacket against the cold. The road seemed to rise and fall beneath her boots. Suddenly, she was headed to the ground. Lyla was disoriented. It took a few moments before she realized that she'd been tripped by a wide pothole, at least three inches deep.

"Shit!" she muttered as she got to her wobbly feet. She wiped the cinders from her hands.

Her ringtone startled her. The incoming call said KEENAN. She didn't answer.

"A-hole!" she muttered.

Behind her, a pair of headlights. She turned, squinted toward the vehicle, and waved her arms. "Help! Help me!"

The car zipped past. A short distance down the roadway the driver slammed on the brakes. And then a familiar, but terrifying voice. "Lyla? Is that you?" It was Keenan.

Now, backup lights. Tires squealed. The car retraced its path down the road in her direction.

Lyla darted into the brush at the side of the road. She watched as Keenan's car slowed beside her broken-down vehicle. He got out of his car, and shouted, "Lyla!... Where are you?"

She backed away into the thicket.

Keenan went to Lyla's car, peered inside.

She retreated further from the roadway, broke a dry branch.

Keenan trotted to the side of the road, squinted into the blackness.

Lyla cowered on the frigid ground, held her breath. From Lyla's viewpoint, the car's flashers on the dark road pulsed in a hallucinogenic glow.

"Damn you, Lyla," Keenan growled. "It's cold. Come out of there."

She held her breath, clenched her eyes shut.

"Okay, then, you little bitch," he fumed. "I'm coming after you."