Chapter Text
She didn’t know how she had gotten here, or where ‘ here’ truly was. Time and the world had forgotten her as her feet trudged endlessly onward through the thick fog. Half-dead trees loomed above and around her, barely more than dark silhouettes against a gentle moon’s light that didn’t seem to have a source.
She cursed as her heel caught on a root and she stumbled forward but managed to catch herself before it was too late. She tugged the white iridescent fur coat tighter around herself, though strangely she felt no cold despite the dying leaves that littered the ground, and the wind which ruffled the branches of the trees.
Where am I? She wondered as she stopped and looked around.
The last thing she could recall… it took her a moment. Eyes squeezed shut in deep, critical thought. Hiking wasn’t a foreign hobby to her, but she wouldn’t be purposely out hiking in such an impractical outfit, let alone something so revealing in the middle of fall.
She looked down at herself, at the fur coat, the black leather bra under the mesh top; gold necklaces dangling from her neck, a short splayed black skirt and fishnet leggings that attached to the pantyhose. Her boots were tall and leather with shining white laces that matched her thick white belt.
Why was she dressed like this? It wasn’t out of her taste, but it wasn’t exactly a walking-around-the-woods type outfit. She had been in the city last… She remembered walking down the sidewalk to… what had been her destination? She had been crossing the street – had she gotten hit by a car? Where were the injuries? She felt no pain. But how would getting hit by a car explain how she ended up in the middle of the forest with no cellphone.
My name…. She suddenly thought . What is my name ? She couldn’t squelch the sickly feeling of panic that rose in her throat before she hugged herself tighter and furrowed her thick brows.
Lola. She suddenly remembered. My name is Lola Withers. I am a… I work at… She frowned. What was her job? She looked once more at her apparel hoping it would help her remember, but she drew a blank. Yet… she remembered every other aspect of her life perfectly. She lived in a high-rise apartment downtown and her social life was remarkable though she didn’t have any friends close enough to consider them true confidants.
She could feel the anxiety that whirled within her chest, threatening to grow and overwhelm her. Lola was usually pretty good with keeping a level head, but the situation she was in was precarious. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d woken up somewhere and not remembered how she got there, but it was never alone and never in the middle of the woods.
Lola felt as though she had been walking for hours. The ground was soft, mud sucking in her heels every few steps and causing her to put in double the effort just to walk. Strangely though, there was no soreness in her thighs despite the tedious efforts she’d been making. Nor did she grow hungry or thirsty, nor too cold or too hot.
Fuck… she hadn’t been at a party. She hadn’t been drinking and she stayed away from the hardcore drugs. She’d no wounds to suggest she had been attacked. Yet how was she ever to explain… this?
After what felt like an eternity of muttering and paying close attention to the ground, looking out for roots to avoid, counting leaves – anything to keep her mind from panicking, she finally spotted a faint orange glow up ahead. A… campfire, maybe?
She wanted to sprint to it in relief and call for help, but her self-preservation also had her pausing. The campfire could be innocent strangers, or whoever it was that brought her out here in the middle of nowhere.
Lola carefully approached the fire, scanning the clearing for any sign of who was there. There was no tent or camper, not even a car. Just a large campfire with three logs situated around it, another patch of trees not too far on the other side. Long grass and what looked like flowers were sprouted near the cobblestones that lined the edge of the flames, and she could make out what seemed like three figures gathered around, seeming in deep conversation with each other.
She eyed them carefully, spotting two women and one man. They had no provisions, nor did Lola spot any phones or bags. It didn’t seem like they had any weapons either, but who came out here without being prepared? Unless… she wasn’t the only one dropped off in the middle of the woods with no memory of how she got there.
Stepping out of the fog, Lola slowly walked towards the campfire, making sure her movements were slow and obvious as to not spook anyone. “Hello?” She gently called ahead, her arms wrapped around her middle.
The three stranger’s faces immediately snapped in her direction, eyes sizing her up in surprise before the man and one of the women, an Asian woman with short black hair, turned back to each other and whispered something.
“Hello… again…” Lola said, approaching the fire. “Can… anyone tell me what’s going on?”
A woman with long red-blonde hair tied into twin braids stood from the log and took several steps towards Lola. “You’re awfully calm,” she said with an awkward laugh.
“Uhm… Yeah I just try not to let myself panic about things, you know? I’m good at keeping myself in check.” She shuffled her feet awkwardly. “Are you guys…? Do you know where we are? How we got here?”
“Oh boy…” The man sighed, running his hands through his short dark hair. “If she’s here… that means those sadistic fucks probably got a new teammate, too.”
Lola arched an eyebrow, her heart skipping at the mention of sadistic people nearby. “Teammate? I’m sorry,” she said, raising her hands chest level and giving an incredulous smile. “I don’t understand what’s going on. Where are we? Did you bring me here?”
“Here,” the woman gently placed a hand on Lola’s arm but she jerked away.
She could feel the pounding of her heart against her ribs, thrumming through her whole body. Was it good or extremely bad that these people didn’t seem panicked in the slightest way?
“It’s a little hard to explain. Impossible to believe, really,” the woman said. “Look, I’m Meg,” she placed a hand over her chest as she introduced herself, then Lola watched as her hand extended to the people sitting behind her. “That’s Feng,” she said, pointing to the other woman, “and that’s David.” She turned back to Lola. “And you are?”
“Still wanting to know what the fuck is going on,” Lola responded.
David let out a deep, irritated sigh and stood up, shaking his head. “I don’t really have the patience to explain this again. Not like they ever believe it anyways. I’m going to go scrounge up for some offerings.”
Lola wondered what he meant by any of those words, especially what offerings meant. Her calm and collected manner was sentence by sentence shattering into full-blown panic, though no one looking at her would be able to tell. Keep calm, she reminded herself. People who panic make stupid decisions. Keep your head, keep focused. Her father was a survivalist and had taken her with him on less dangerous expanses, making sure that if she ever found herself in a situation just like this, she would know how to keep herself alive until she could get help.
“This place…” Meg started a little apprehensively. “You are – well, we…” She sighed and Lola watched as her eyes swiveled and bit her lip, searching through her own vocabulary to try and properly explain the situation. “Everyone here…”
“Is dead,” Feng input without hesitation.
Lola felt like someone had slapped her in the face. It took her a moment to process the words as Meg turned on her. “We don’t know that,” she chided.
Feng rolled her eyes.
“Is this the part where a crew comes out and tells me I’m being pranked?” Lola inquired with a quirked eyebrow.
“How long have you been walking?” Meg suddenly asked.
The quickness of the question caught Lola off guard and she took a moment to think about it. Her brow furrowed and her shook her head slightly, dyed teal locks of her bobbed hair coming into her view. “It… felt like a long time, but I haven’t seen any sign of the change of day. The moon hasn’t moved….”
“And have you been hungry? Thirsty? Tired?”
Lola regarded her very carefully, their blue eyes locked on each other and Lola started to debate the implications of her words. Her eyes, for a brief moment, drifted from Meg to look at Feng, remembering the words she had spoken. Looking back to Meg, she said, as calmly as she could manage. “So, I’m… dead?”
Did she believe that? It was such an outlandish theory that perhaps that was the only thing stopping her brain from fully processing the meaning of those words.
“No!” Meg quickly interjected. “At least… I don’t think so. In no ways anyone can prove,” she said, casting Feng a sharp glare.
“You’re just mad because you bled out last trial.”
“You had ample opportunity to reach me and heal me. The Oni was all the way on the other side of the farm!” She took a moment to take a deep breath. “But that doesn’t matter.”
“A farm,” Lola repeated. “Are there people there? Telephone wires? A working signal?”
Meg sighed again and Feng picked a stick from the ground and stoking the fire in lazy attempts to stifle her clear boredom with the conversation. Jesus… how did someone show such little empathy? At least she had stuck around, unlike that David fellow.
“Look, I-”
“Ask who she brought with her,” Feng said without taking her eyes off the fire.
Lola tilted her head to the side. Though she kept her expression neutral, the irritation was clear in her voice. “You know you could ask me what you want directly. I’m right here.”
Feng met her gaze for a brief moment and then shrugged, sagging her shoulders and leaning on her knees. “Your life, back home – was there anything… strange happening? A killer on the loose, maybe?”
“No, I-” Lola’s voice cut off abruptly.
“Yes?” Meg asked.
“Well I…” Lola tried to shrug casually. There had been a killer. Someone terrorizing the town. The Ghostface, they called him, but Lola couldn’t see how that was involved with her. “I had a stalker. Used to send me letters in the mail… send pictures they had taken of me. Police couldn’t find him.”
Feng sighed and threw the stick into the fire. “Great. Another stalker.”
Lola closed her eyes and released a deep breath. “Look, can someone just please tell me what’s going on? Even if it sounds utterly ridiculous I just need something .”
“We don’t know where we are,” Meg started to explain. “All we know is that it’s the Entity’s Realm.” She held up a hand to silence Lola before she could interject with an immediate question. “All we know is that it doesn’t exist in the world we’re used to. Its… some sort of god, we think. It demands trials and… and blood and sacrifices. Its… it takes us and forces us into trials where we have to escape a killer. You don’t always win. When its satisfied with all the bloodshed it lets us rest here in the clearing. I guess its getting bored with its toys and wanted to bring a new factor in, hence… you.”
Lola stared at her for a long moment, squinting her eyes. She was slack-jawed, thinking nothing and everything at all. Should she start laughing? She felt that strange tugging on the side of her mouth that told her this was a dedicated joke. She released a nervous huff of air, opening her mouth to say something, then abruptly closing it when nothing came to mind.
She was about to finally put her thoughts into words when she spotted a figure moving through the fog and stiffened. Meg followed her gaze and spotted the figure as they emerged from the thick mist revealing a... boy. Just a teenager. He had loose brown hair and was wearing some sort of sailor uniform? Geez, and Lola thought she had it bad.
“Damn, Harrington,” Feng snorted in amusement. “What are you wearing?”
Lola saw the boy flush in embarrassment and anger. “It’s my work uniform. I don’t know how the Entity thought this was a good reward. This seems more like a punishment.” His eyes suddenly wandered to Lola and she saw his lips quirk into a smile. “Well, hello there.”
She held up her hand. “I know I may look young, kid, but you’re too young for me. ”
Feng chuckled and Meg stepped aside as the teen neared, still smiling though he looked slightly embarrassed to his credit. “Sorry, it’s just been a while since we’ve seen anyone new. Although… if there’s a new survivor…” He sighed in exasperation.
“Probably a stalker type,” Feng said.
“Great, just what we needed.”
“Wait, I’m sorry,” Lola said. “If you’re apparently being chased by killers why isn’t anyone more… you know,” she shrugged. “Panicked? Scared?”
“Oh, there’s plenty of time for that in the trials,” sailor boy said, placing his hands on his hips and adding a quick fit of nervous laughter. Her eyes kept getting drawn to the boyish blue shorts, or the comedic 60’s style sailor hat that read ‘ Ahoy!’ in bubbly blue letters. “I work at an ice cream shop,” he explained.
Feng finally stood from her place on the log and sauntered over in her red track suit. Granted, even though she was joining the social circle, she still seemed just as uninterested in the conversation as before. “Because they can’t harm us here. The time between trials is when the Entity grants us reprieve. Trials, though? Those fucks can do whatever they want to us.” She absent-mindedly rubbed at her neck as though remembering an old wound.
Every other word made no sense. Lola was convinced this had to be a joke, or at the very least a horrible trip. Maybe this was an extremely lucid dream she was having, but then how did she wake up?
“You never told us your name,” Meg said.
Lola blinked several times, snapping out of her own thoughts. “Lola. Lola Withers.”
“Steve Harrington,” the boy said, offering his hand.
Lola accepted the gesture. She had to keep her head for now. She couldn’t panic until she understood the full depth and truth of the situation she was in. She couldn’t allow herself to feel fear until she was safe again.
“Here it comes,” Meg said, sucking in a deep breath.
“Oh, fuck no! I just got out of a trial!”
That had been Steve speaking, but Lola could no longer find him. Fog rolled in out of nowhere and for the first time Lola felt a chill. Its cold fingers wrapped around her body and pulled her into a whirl of grey where time and space did not exist; where even Lola, for a brief moment, was unsure if she existed.
She finally felt ground beneath her feet again and blinked as the fog started to clear away. It took her brain several heartbeats to register that she wasn’t where she was just seconds ago, though she didn’t recall moving her legs or blacking out. There was the faint glow of a fire, but it did not come from a campfire but a fireplace to her left. The mantle was wood and of old Victorian design.
“Oh, fuck,” Lola swore, taking in her surroundings. She was in the manor. Marguerite House. She felt her breath hitch and could no longer control the fear that was growing in her chest. “ Fuck,” she repeated.
She hated this place. Hated everything about this place. The house was partly gutted, her father’s attempts to replace rotting and old beams, add more supports, new insulation, drywall, while still trying to keep the original hints that made it authentic.
The house wasn’t quite how she remembered it, however. The furniture was covered by large white blankets which had gathered a thick layer of dust. Cobwebs hung in the corners, swaying gently in the breeze allowed in by the broken pane windows. Some portraits were so faded Lola could barely register what they were supposed to depict.
She hated this house. Hated every fucking inch of it.
A scream sounded in the distance and Lola felt a chill sweep down her spine. Despite the vastness of the manor and its echo, she could strangely make out almost the precise location it had come from.
“There you are!” A hand covering Lola’s mouth prevented the scream that erupted from her lungs. “Shh, sorry,” said Steve, bending to emerge into her vision. “I didn’t mean to scare you but I didn’t want you to give away our position.”
Lola looked at him incredulously and he removed his hand before she swatted it away. He crouched down behind an old velvet couch with her. She could see the old, frayed red fabric peek out from the underside of the cloth.
“Believe us now?” He breathed peeking over the couch. “Christ, not only is it bad enough your killer is likely a stalker, but an indoors location, too…” He released a breath and shook his head. “Come on, we have to start working on some gens.”
Lola could find no words as another scream erupted through the corridors.
“Ah, fuck. He hooked Feng already? This guy is good… Shit. Come on.”
Steve grabbed Lola’s hand and forced her in tow with him which usually she would object to, but her brain was having difficulty processing everything that was happening around her. Never before had she taken orders so easily, but never before had she dissociated like this.
“Ah, this looks like something.”
He rounded the corner into one of the dining rooms where the table had been set for dinner for six. However, the plates were cracked, and the glasses were broken. Some of the chairs were missing and the candles weren’t lit. In the corner, beside the china cupboard was what Lola thought to be a generator. Industrial of some kind, but definitely not belonging. Papa had used generators during his work but nothing as large as this one.
Steve crouch-ran around the far side of the table and knelt beside the generator, opening the hatch and inspecting the wires. He rubbed his hands together as he took a quick look, then immediately started getting to work.
Lola, unsure, slowly made her way to the generator, and stared at it.
“What do I do?” She asked.
“Just kind of… try,” Steve said. “Instincts will kick in.”
Lola frowned and stared at the greasy and rusted cogs of the machine. She had never been mechanical in any form of the word and frowned harder as she reached forward with both her hands. He was right though. She had no idea what she was doing, and yet she suddenly found she knew exactly what she was doing. Her nimble fingers fiddled with the cogs and gears of the machine, slowly getting them to work again. It was as though her hands and brain were disconnected somehow. Her hands knew what to do without her mind understanding what exactly she was doing.
“Fuck,” Lola breathed as she made a mistake and the generator burst in her face, releasing a puff of black smoke that caused her to cough.
Steve worriedly looked over his shoulder and then immediately went back to work with the wires. “It should be okay. I think they’re distracted with-”
Lola suddenly felt her heart beat in her chest. It practically pounded against her ribs and she could hear it in her ears. Steve froze and took another look around as Lola put a hand against her chest, wondering if she was about to have a heart attack.
And then in several moments it was gone.
Steve released a relieved breath and went back to work and Lola followed suit. After about a minute of fiddling with the damn thing the light above it suddenly came on and all cylinders were pumping smoothly.
“Phew.” Steve wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
“That’s it?” Lola asked. “We can leave now?”
He laughed nervously. “Afraid not. There’s still four more we have to get done.”
Right as he said that a ding popped off and Lola heard the faint sound of a generator pumping to life.
“Or three. I’m going to go save Feng, looks like Meg’s too far.”
“Okay, I’ll come.” Steve suddenly hesitated and Lola immediately understood. “Right.”
“It’s not personal,” he said. “Unhooking can be a tricky business if the killer is still around, and we don’t know what he does yet. I don’t want you to get hurt. Being killed in your first trial… it sucks.”
Lola blinked. “Killed?” She whispered back.
She could see the sadness in Steve’s eyes at her realization. “Feng doesn’t have much time. Don’t run if you don’t have to. Stay low and quiet, alright?”
Lola nodded and Steve turned and left the dining room. She watched him until his blue uniform disappeared around a corner and she was left alone. She looked at the generator and decided standing under a spotlight wasn’t the smartest thing if there was someone stalking them.
She left the dining room, trying to remain silent but her damn heels kept clicking against the wood and slate floors. She kept to carpet when she could, aimlessly wandering around her own home, keeping an eye out for more generators when she took the stairs to the second floor and found the door to her bedroom swung open.
In an instant, Lola forgot she was in a sick death game. Her mind clouded and her only thought was of that room. She wandered forward, almost as if in a daze and stopped at the archway. The light was off and the curtain was closed, allowing only the smallest amount of moonlight to peek through.
She felt the wall for the switch but it wasn’t where she remembered it was, and so she fumbled into the room, blind as a mole. She groped the wall, perhaps wondering if she misremembered, but the wall was completely smooth.
Walking over to the curtains, she wanted to throw them open, but found the moment she reached out her hand, a commanding voice in her head said No, and she brought her hand back to her side without understanding why.
Lola suddenly gasped.
Exposed.
I’m exposed.
She didn’t know why she felt that way, why that word is what came to her, but she suddenly felt as though she were completely vulnerable. Like she had been caught in the middle of a battlefield with no armour.
She turned around, taking several steps towards the door when she noticed a figure standing in the frame, blocking her access to the hallway.
“Found you,” the man whispered.
Judging by his getup, he wasn’t here to help her. The thing that unsettled her the most about him, somehow more than the bloody knife in his hand, was the mask that covered his face. An abstract, white plastic depiction of someone in screaming in terror, the eyes and mouth holes covered by black mesh to prevent any slips of the identity of the man underneath.
“It’s you,” Lola breathed.
She’d recognize that mask anywhere. She knew his voice, his physique. She had never seen his face, but even without the mask she would recognize him anywhere.
It was the infamous killer in her town. Ghostface.
“Fuck off,” she hissed.
The stalker tutted and wagged his finger at her. “That was rather rude. I for one, think it’s exciting to see you again, Lola.” He took several steps forward, but still blocked the exit. For every step he took, Lola took one back until her back pressed against the wall. “For you to see me, again.”
She looked around for something that could be used as a weapon, but unless she could pick up a whole bed it seemed she didn’t have any choice.
Lola faced him head on, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her fear. She had to get out of this room, lose him in the corridors and hallways. She knew this house like the back of her hand but… she felt a shiver as she realized he probably did too.
He raised his knife and suddenly bolted for her. Her eyes flew wide and she tried to duck out of the way but screamed when the knife went slashing across her abdomen, releasing a spray of blood across the carpet.
“Fuck,” Lola gasped, falling to the floor. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt the tears welling in her eyes. Tears of pain and terror. “ Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Above her, the man wiped the blood from his blade, then crouched down beside her. Lola clawed her way forward, nails digging into the wool as she dragged herself towards the door, leaving a vibrant red streak of blood behind her.
She tried to ignore the pain – gave her mind a focus; escape . Escape the room, escape him.
There was a shuddering sigh and the man stepped in front of her once more, preventing her exit. “I’ve waited for this for a very long time, Lola.” He crouched down and tilted his head, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. “Please, don’t cry,” he said, wiping away the tears that fell with a bloodied thumb. She flinched at his touch even though she’d dare to call it gentle. “I’ll only hurt you a little bit. We’re going to have forever, Lola.”
“Fuck you,” Lola spat. He pressed his hand into her abdomen, right where his knife at sliced her skin and she cried out. “Please! Please stop!”
“There we go,” he said. “Manners gets you everywhere in life.”
Lola furled her fists, wanting to throw punches, kicking and screaming. She didn’t want to go down without a fight, but the strange energy that had filled her body had suddenly vanished, leaving her exhausted and unable to move.
“I know you get people asking for your picture a lot, but, you wouldn’t mind, right?”
He didn’t wait for a response as he pulled out an old-timey camera. One of those ones that printed you a physical copy straight after. She moaned in pain as he propped her into a sitting position and when she almost doubled over he hooked an arm around her waist and sidled up next to her.
Tears of rage fell from her eyes. How could she allow this to happen to her so easily? She had more fight in her than this. She would never go down this easily. But she was growing weaker. Her lids felt heavy and her head lulled onto the shoulder of her soon-to-be-murderer.
“I’m going to kill you,” she promised.
That incited a laugh from the man. A truly giddy laugh that Lola swore sounded familiar, but could not place. “Say cheese!”
The flash went off and Lola had to close her eyes from the brightness.
As soon as the photo was taken, he let her collapse to the floor and she groaned.
“Ah, this! This is a good picture!” He exclaimed, staring at the photo.
Lola gritted her teeth, shielded her mind from the pain, and started crawling forward again towards the door. She suddenly felt his arm hook around her waist once more, and she screamed as his forearm dug right into her abdomen as he threw her over his shoulder.
“Sorry, sunflower, can’t have you running off. ‘Gotta please the thing that let me have this, you know?”
Lola squirmed, hammering her fists against his back as she wiggled all she could, causing him to stumble several times, but his grip remained true. “Fucking psycho!” She screamed at him.
His knife had hurt when it pierced her flesh, but nothing could prepare her for the feeling of being impaled. A guttural scream ripped from her throat as he tossed her onto a meat hook meant for pigs. It jutted through her shoulder and Lola’s eyes went wide in terror and agony.
“Jesus Christ,” she cried breathlessly.
“You stay right here,” he said. “I’m going to go finish off your friends, then I’ll come back for you. Stay put, alright?”
With that the man stalked off, a trail of shadow following him as Lola watched him disappear into the darkness.
Her body went limp despite the tension coursing through her veins. At the agony emanating from both wounds she had sustained. Jesus… she should be dead. How was she still alive? This was a fucking nightmare. How did she end up in this mess?
She kept hearing the screams of her teammates going off, and when it became too much, Lola felt a surge of strength overcome her. She whimpered in pain as she raised her arms, gripped the hook, and sprung herself free. She immediately crashed to the ground, gasping and blinded from the pain before she started stumbling forward down the hall.
More screams sounded from somewhere within the manor as Lola raided a chest and found a medical kit inside. The syringe brought a relief from pain, and the bandages helped staunch the bleeding. It… almost felt as though the wounds were no longer there, but, no. That was impossible.
She hadn’t made it too far when she suddenly felt a knife stab into her thigh.
“You’re not very good at listening, are you?” Mused the dark figure standing above her. “ Come on,” he sighed. He picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder again and this time Lola couldn’t find the strength to fight him, either. No one was coming to her rescue, and she didn’t have the energy to save herself.
She huffed as he suddenly dropped her, and as she looked to her side she realized it was the exit.
“You’re… you’re letting me go?” Lola asked breathlessly. “No, this is just some sick joke. You’re going to give me the hope of seeing the exit, right?” She asked, bloody mouthed and propping herself up against the brick wall. “And then you’re going to crush that hope.”
“Nope,” he responded cheerfully. “I’m letting you go.”
That perplexed Lola and she was sure it was some sort of ruse. “What’s your game?”
He was on her quicker than she was prepared for, pining her against the wall, his arm pressed against her neck, and felt the sharp sting of his blade as it barely pierced her flesh, drawing out a small bead of blood.
“I knew it,” she smiled down at him.
He dropped the knife and cupped her face in his hands. Slowly, he started to wipe away the tears and streaks of mascara that ran down her cheeks, instead smearing them with blood. “This is the second time I’ve saved your life. Your debt is starting to add up,” he whispered.
She froze at the next touch of his hand. Gentle. A caress on her cheek before his fingers suddenly curled into her hair, whipped her around, and shoved her towards the exit.
“Just this once, sunflower,” he called out to her as she stumbled forward, past his reach. “Next time I intend to have some fun.”