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If you had asked anyone to use one word to describe you, it would be anxious. And they would be right. You didn't have many memories from before the fog, but you could only assume the anxiety that plagued you wasn't something new. It was practically burned into your DNA.
Your fellow survivors would approach you for some reason or another, and it almost always resulted in you nearly jumping out of your skin. This little quirk of yours made trials a nightmare when you started out a couple days ago. Every single noise had you practically leaping off generators and into a nearby locker, the disturbance leading killers right to you.
As time went on however, your constant exposure to life or death situations made your uncanny ability to sense danger surprisingly useful. Over time you had learned to listen to your intuition, the panic running rampant through your body becoming a good indicator of impending danger. By now you had spent a week in the fog, and you were becoming familiar with your fellow survivors. Each of them possessing some ability or another to combat the trails you all faced daily. Initially, no one believed your warnings whenever a killer was approaching, shrugging it off as paranoia. That was until you were consistently pointing out killers before anyone else could sense them.
Your hunches weren't always perfect though, as often you would sense the killer, and in your rush to escape you would run right into them. One event in particular weighing heavy in your mind. You had been working on a generator when you felt the all too familiar fear settle in your gut, anxiety beginning to snake through your veins. You stood abruptly and without thinking, throwing yourself into a dead sprint. You knew the killer was coming, but it didn't occur to you that you didn't know the direction. This resulted in you faceplanting into the Trapper's chest, the impact similar to that of slamming into a brick wall.
Now however, you were a little smarter about how you would flee particular scenarios. If you were on a gen with another survivor you would usually signal to them, or if you were alone you began to note the vaults around you and potential loops. It was a good system you had going, until you encountered your first stealth killer.
The trial had started, and you were working on a generator in Blackwater Swamp. The gears and mechanisms within the generator beginning to roll to life. It never ceased to amaze you just how tangled the wires could get, the gloomy light barley allowing you to tell one color from another. All was going well until you heard someone get downed immediately. A scream echoing through the map. It was instantly followed by another scream after they were thrown onto a hook. Your hands felt clammy against the cold metal under your fingertips, sweat beginning to bead on your brow.
This killer was fast.
Standing up from your gen you began to run towards your teammate, your boots slipping and sliding in the mud below you. The plant life and dilapidated buildings made good cover but the cold air and marsh-like ground made crossing the map a nightmare. You had gotten about halfway to them when another survivor got hooked. Things were escalating quickly and you needed to fix this fast. You put more energy into your pace and made it to Claudette, your arms reaching up to gently pull her off of the hook. That's when you felt it. The all too familiar panic beginning to ravage your mind, your system thrown into fight or flight. You grabbed Claudette's hand in your bloodied grip and sprinted away towards the nearest building. You made turn after turn until the presence dissipated, quiet finally settling in. She tried to stifle her sobs as you did your best to heal her, blood beginning to pool on the ground below her. You hadn't brought a med kit in so you made do with what you had. You could sense your teammate had gotten the other person off the hook so you did your best to focus on helping Claudette. Then you felt it again.
You stood up abruptly and began to drag Claudette along with you once again, the attention of the killer proving to be an unexpected nuisance to shake. When it seemed as though you had successfully moved out of the killer's path you returned to healing Claudette. She looked up at you as you finished wrapping gauze around a gash on her arm, her eyebrows furrowed in pain. "I guess it's good your ability works on stealth killers too huh?" You thought you misheard her. "What killers?" Claudette stood slowly, still clearly in pain. Once she seemed be well enough to walk she made her way with you to a nearby generator. "Stealth killers. Y'know the ones we can't sense? They're practically on top of you before you even know they're there." You crouched down, beginning to comb through the tangle of wires on front of you. "I don't think I've ever seen one of those..." you started, unease beginning to stir in your gut. There were different types of killers?
She stopped and frowned, concern lacing her tone. "You haven't run into Michael or the Wraith?" You shook your head, doing your best to focus on the generator in front of you in between her words. Claudette sucked in breath through her teeth in a hiss. "Okay. You know when a killer gets close and your heart starts to pound in your head and that overwhelming sense of dread hits you? It's like a warning right? Sometimes they make noises or the Huntress sings? These guys don't have that." You nodded slowly. "I can still sense them though?" She shrugged "For some reason I don't think they can get the drop on you, you can tell when they're approaching your direction right?"
You nodded again, getting closer to finishing the generator."Yeah, usually. it's similar to when you feel like someone is watching you. Like just an unnerving presence I guess." With a couple more adjustments the generator's lights flooded the night air above you. A small comfort in the otherwise bleak setting. Almost simultaneously you felt the feeling again and it was close. Too close for comfort. "We have to go. Now." You urged, glancing over towards Claudette. That's when you saw him.
There was a figure crouched not ten feet behind Claudette, dark pieces of fabric seeming to defy gravity and float in the air. An unsettling white mask sat amidst layers of black fabric fixed in a permanent scream. Faster than you could think to react, he sprung forward and took Claudette down with a hunting knife, wiping the now bloodied blade off with a gloved hand. It had shocked you just how tall the man was, his stature not noticable when he had been crouched. Without even thinking you bolted, silently apologizing to Claudette for not trying to help her. Not that you could have done much anyway. You didn't have a flashlight and there wasn't anywhere to stun him. You prayed he wasn't following you, taking a risky glance behind you as you ran. Nothing. To confirm your thoughts you heard Claudette scream as she was thrown onto a hook for the second time. She was in trouble.
You felt the presence suddenly get stronger again. You decided to trust your teammates to get Claudette down from her hook so that you could hopefully draw the killer off. If you turned around now and tried to get her down, chances were he would just hit her and put her right back on her death hook. Dilapidated buildings began to come into view as you ran, muddy reeds slapping your face.
Distance between yourself and the killer was going to be your saving grace here. Looping was not your strong suit so the more space you had to move the better. The feeling of being watched had not let up and was seeming to intensify the more you ran. At least the killer was distracted. You climbed over a vault under the pier in the corner of the map, hoping to not make sure an obvious trail. There were a couple dead ends in here, however you were confident you could maneuver through the old woodwork.
Your heart was pounding in your chest, the cold damp air burning your overused lungs. You had sight of multiple escape routes and we're surveying the area around you for moment. It didn't occur to you however, to check behind you. A large gloved hand wrapped around your mouth, with the accompanying tip of a cold blade pressing harshly into your ribs.
"Found you." An unusually deep and raspy voice spoke, sending an unwanted warmth to tickle at the back of your neck. You didn't know they could talk.
"You are one annoying little bitch to hunt you know that?" He asked, more rhetorical than anything. The knife pressed into your ribs receiving a bit more pressure to punctuate his point. You squeaked as the tip of the knife broke skin, blood now blooming through your shirt. You wanted to struggle. Kick scream, punch. Whatever you could to get away from this man, but his grip felt like you had been cemented to him. "Giving me the silent treatment huh?" He teased, bringing his hand off your mouth, then down your neck to wrap his gloved fingers around your throat. "There, isn't that better?"
When you didn't respond he squeezed down hand enough to force a small wheeze from your lips, the pressure undeniably vice-like. "I said," He pressed the knife into your ribs slowly, an inch of the sharp metal now within your flesh. "Isn't. That. Better?" You cried out at the intrusion, the noise coming out as a strangled squeak with the tight grip on your throat.
You tried to form words, darkness encroaching your vision by the second. You tried to say something, anything. Even a yell or a scream, but was suffocated out of you before it could pierce the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears.
Trembling, you tried to bring your hands up to claw at him, your weak attempts making him chuckle. "That ability isn't so useful when you're already trapped. Pretty pathetic if you ask me." He pressed the knife deeper, half the length of the blade inside of you and dripping in blood. The pain didn't even resister, your head feeling like it was filled with cotton. You couldn't breathe. You were going to die here. The last bits of light were swallowed up by the encroaching darkness drowning your vision, when you felt him suddenly let get go of you.
All of a sudden cold, wet air flooded your lungs, stinging your throat. You felt the knife ripped from your chest, followed by a firm push to your back, the ground seeming coming up to meet you. A thud reverberated through your head when you landed, mud making it's home in your nose and mouth. To accompany your fall you felt the weight of a boot press down onto your spine, another cough escaping violently from your lungs.
That's when the pain began to set in. You could feel the overwhelming sting from the puncture his knife had made, your warm blood a distinct contrast to the freezing ground beginning to soak your shirt. The man crouched down to kneel, his boot still firmly on you, the shift in weight sending a shock up your back. His hand came up to your scalp and took a fistful of your hair, wrenching your head up and arching your back painfully. You screamed loudly this time, the noise echoing loudly across the map.
"That's it, screaming so pretty just for me." He praised, his mask coming into view as he bent down you meet your eyes. You weren't able to meet his however, your gaze falling only on two black pits. Your eyes did catch the glint if his knife in his other hand, now being brought up to your face. "I would have thought a new survivor like you would have put up more of a fight. Are you giving up already princess?"
That's when you did something stupid. Really stupid. You spat right on his mask, punctuating it with a venom filled "Fuck you." The man was still for a moment, so much so you thought time stopped. That stillness was broken by the man busting into a fit of laughter that made you sick to your stomach.
"Don't have time for that right now princess, but next time I'll make an exception for you." He said, a malicious smirk clearly on his lips even if you couldn't see it. "As fun as this was, we'll have company and minute now thanks to your crying so we'll have to wrap this up." He spoke, wiping his knife on his glove.
He stepped over you and straddled your back, putting his full weight on your spine, forcing the air from your lungs. You didn't get the chance to recover as you felt him thrust his hunting knife into your back, the hilt of the blade smashing against your ribs as it stopped abruptly. Blood began to pool in your lungs, pain overwhelming your senses. You couldn't cough as you felt yourself drowning in the warm iron that was quickly leaving your wounds. The sharp metal of the knife felt like it was burning you from the inside, agony tearing through your nerves. He pulled the knife out quickly only to slam it into your side, between your ribs. Blood splattered onto his mask and the ground below, the majority of it outside of your body rather than in.
He pulled the blade out once again to stab it into your back, a loud crack resounding in your ears and your head as he pushed the metal past your spine into one of your lungs. You couldn't feel anything anymore as the last whisps of your consciousness bled away, a bright light being the last thing you see as he pulled out a camera and took a selfie with you, blood flooding from your lips.