Chapter Five

Together, we stepped outside. The overgrown fields stretched before us, wild and forgotten. The tall grass brushed against our legs as we walked.

Sophie kicked at a clump of grass. "This place is so boring. I could've been at a party, butinstead, I'm stuck here for Halloween," she complained, her voice breaking the quiet. "What the hell was Maya thinking? How is this supposed to be fun?"

I gave a nervous laugh. "You know Maya. She likes to push boundaries, even when no one else cares."

We walked past an old barn, its roof caved in, the wood weathered and rotting. Ivy crawled up the sides like it was trying to swallow the building whole. "Look at this place," Alex muttered, running his hand along one of the rusted tools hanging from the barn's side. "It's like no one's touched it in years."

I glanced at the trees surrounding the field. They were old, twisted, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers ready to grab anyone foolish enough to get close. Their shadows sprawled across the uneven ground, making every step feel unsteady. The whole place felt forgotten, but not quite dead—like it was waiting for something.

Farther out, a broken fence barely stood, its splintered wooden posts tangled in thick brush. The air smelled of damp earth and rot, like the land was hiding something beneath the surface. I shivered, even though the evening wasn't that cold.

I turned around, and behind us, the mansion loomed. Its black, empty windows felt like eyes, watching our every move. I quickly faced the field, unwilling to look at it anymore. I stepped into the tall grass, leaving the others behind, feeling like I was entering a maze. Suddenly, I stopped.

A scarecrow stood before me, its tattered clothes flapping in the wind. But something felt off. The body seemed too solid, too full to be just straw. Half of its head was covered by a burlap sack, loosely stitched with dark thread. It wore leather pants. Who dresses a scarecrow in leather pants?

But it was the mouth that really caught my attention. Open, dirty, cracked like old leather, stretched into a twisted, crooked smile—it looked disturbingly human.

"That thing's creepy as hell," Sophie said, and I nearly jumped.

"God, you scared me!" I huffed, and she laughed, the sound lightening the mood. Katie and Alex joined in, their laughter echoing around us.

Sophie picked up a stick and poked the scarecrow, giggling as it swayed. "Perfect for Halloween, though."

I couldn't tear my eyes away from it. "Leave it alone," I muttered, staring at its mouth.

Sophie shrugged and dropped the stick, rolling her eyes. "Alright, buzzkill."

We walked further, but I couldn't shake the image of the scarecrow from my mind. I kept glancing back, its twisted smile haunting me. Then Katie gently squeezed my arm, and I managed a smile, feeling a little steadier.

As we moved deeper into the field, I spotted a well, half-hidden by vines. Its old, moss-covered stones looked ancient, forgotten like everything else around here.

I leaned closer to the well, peeking inside. The dark water reflected my face, but the image was distorted by ripples. Just as I was about to step back, the others joined me, gathering around the edge.

After a while, Sophie stepped back, glancing around. "Let's head back," she suggested.

Katie nodded, but I hesitated. "You guys go ahead," I said firmly. I needed a moment to myself.

Katie shot me a concerned look. "Are you sure? We'll wait—"

I shook my head. "I'm fine. I just need a minute."

Reluctantly, they walked back to the house, leaving me alone. I stared into the well, my thoughts swirling.

Phoenix. Maya. The lies. The betrayal.

I clenched my fists, feeling the anger coil inside me. I needed to confront her. But when? And how? Every second around her felt like drowning, and all I could think about was what she did, how she ruined everything.

A loud flapping noise snapped me out of my thoughts. I whipped around, my heartbeat pounding. I looked up, scanning the darkening sky, but there was nothing there. Just... silence.

It was getting late. The light was fading fast. I needed to head back.

I turned toward the house and started walking, each step sending a sharp ache through my breasts. I could feel the pads getting wet, and it was uncomfortable. Frustrated, I kept walking, not looking ahead as I reached inside my shirt and yanked them out, tossing them onto the ground without a second thought.

When I looked up, I froze. The scarecrow was right in front of me on its post. Damn, it looked terrifying. I should have taken a different path.

I swallowed hard, feeling my pulse throb in my ears. That crooked smile... it looked wider now, like it was mocking me, daring me to come closer.

I didn't want to, but something pulled me closer. My feet moved on their own, and before I knew it, I was inches away from it. I reached out, my hand shaking, and touched its leg. I pressed gently. Inside, it wasn't straw or rough. It felt warm. Solid. Like flesh.

I jerked my hand back, bile rising in my throat. This wasn't right.

Then it happened. The scarecrow stirred. Slowly, it inhaled, the burlap sack shifting with the movement, drawing in everything around me.

I stumbled back, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

No, no, no. That's not possible.

I turned, my feet moving fast, but I heard it. The soft flapping of wings. Something was above me, behind me, everywhere.

I started to run. The grass whipped at my legs, my breath ragged. Something was chasing me. I could feel it. I could hear it.

I glanced up just in time to see a shadow pass over me—too fast to see, but too close to ignore. My heart thundered as I pushed myself harder, faster, desperate to reach the house.

But I tripped on a rock and went down hard, the impact knocking the wind out of me as I hit the dirt.

I kept my eyes tightly shut, too scared to open them. I felt something sniffing at me, sending chills down my spine. Just when I thought it had backed away, I sensed it return. I forced myself to peek through my lashes, and my heart dropped.

A creature loomed over me—it was the scarecrow. Its mouth hung open wide, clutching my breast pad in its hand. It squeezed, and milk dripped from the pad into its mouth—grotesque and haunting. I was paralyzed with fear, chills running down my spine, and I shut my eyes again, unable to look.

Then I felt it—a cold, wet sensation dragging across my face. A tongue, rough and slow, savoring every moment, tasting my skin.

I opened my mouth to scream, but the terror overwhelmed me and everything went black.