For as long as she could recall, Kathleen MacReady had suffered from anxiety, but as she and her friends stood face to face with the business end of a 12 gauge shotgun, she couldn't help but think that--for the first time ever--maybe her anxiety was warranted.

    "Last warnin'," the hermit drawled as he shuffled adjacent to the door, but between his thick, Irish accent and his heavily inebriated state, his words were barely coherent, "Sit'down, or be put down."
    Alex, the eldest of the four, nursed the wound on his head from where the hermit had struck him as they entered--which was why Kathleen was surprised that of the four of them, it was he who spoke first.
    "Easy buddy, we were just looking for directions." He slowly reached into his pocket, unfolding a crumpled sheet of paper, "See? The flyer said the festival was here--we're not trying to rob you."
Most people who met Alex were quick to judge him as little more than a jock with a hero complex, something drilled into him from years of being a quarterback, but Kathleen knew him better. Underneath his 'all-star physique', was a boy, desperate to be seen as a man.

    The shotgun cocked, the loud click as it chambered a shell sent a cold chill up Kathleen's spine.
"Yur lying." He growled, "Sheriff'll be here soon, he'll sort this out."
Kathleen wiped a sleeve across her forehead for the third time in as many minutes. Even now, her vision was plagued with spots, the tiny specks danced across her eyes, always moving whenever she tried to look directly at them. She knew she didn't have long until it hit, her anxiety attacks always followed the same pattern--sweating, spotted vision, followed by dizziness and then finally, the black. She tried to shake away the oncoming dizzy spell, causing the gunman to switch targets, "Don't move,"

    Jason stepped forward, drawing the gunman's ire. It was no secret he had been smitten with her ever since they first met through a mutual friend. She had played coy at first, which led to an awkward--and very public--rejection, but eventually he had grown on her, and the two had begun an unorthodox relationship.
    Kathleen knew he'd die for her, but she refused to let anyone make that decision. Not again. She clutched at her chest, pleading with her heart to cease beating so damn fast as her vision worsened, the tiny dots now covered it almost entirely.
    "Please," she huffed as her legs began to struggle, "We'll go, just please put the gun down."
Taking her stumbling as a threat he began to wave the gun erratically,
    "Nobody feckin move!" He screamed.
The four teens panicked; Alex's true nature revealed itself when he started for the door only to trip on a discarded whisky bottle. Emma--Alex's fiancée--dropped to the floor and pleaded for her life. Jason, devoted boyfriend that he was, moved between her and the shotgun.
    Kath watched in detached horror at was inevitably the last moments of her life. She couldn't die, not here, her heart slammed against her chest as her world began to dim.
    "The itsy bitsy spider, climbed up the water spout."
    "Not again," she pleaded with herself, not now. Her body stiffened as the memories she'd long forgotten clawed their way out from the shadows once more.
    "Down came the rain, and washed the spider out." His voice was a deep, baleful whisper. Her body writhed at the memory of his calloused fingers, edging up her leg as he sung, the overwhelming stench of smoke alone was enough leave her a broken mess.
"I saved you." The voice cooed.
    Kathleen screamed, startling the hermit. Seeing an opportunity Jason leapt for the gun, but he would never be fast enough.
    The hermit squeezed the trigger, a loud flash and a deafening crack was the last thing Kathleen heard before it all went black.