Painted Dolls
Four minutes in and I knew I had made a colossal mistake. The door creaked like a blaring alarm behind me as I snuck through it to the top of the stairs of the surprisingly humid basement. Tiptoeing down each stair in a silent hurry, I could hear him barrel through the front door of the cabin, singing my name with amusement as his sinister laugh echoed off the tainted walls. I had always scoffed at the term "Final Girl" but now, as I stand and gaze at the lifeless bodies that hung like toys from the ceiling around me, I realize I am one.
His hand was soft to the touch as he held mine in his and led the way through the dark familiar street to a door without a welcome mat. "You're home." He said sinisterly as my trust in him quickly turned to panic. I fell to the floor like a crumpled blanket when his unapologetic boot met the small of my back, forcing me through the entry onto the cold, wet floor. "Why are you doing this?" I asked before darkness swallowed me whole.