3. Lyric

Chapter three

Lyric

TODAY WAS HALLOWEEN, AND IT was also the anniversary of the night my rights were taken. The night when my right to say no, my right to hold off on giving my body to someone special, was forcefully stripped away from me. They took it all away from me, yet they remained untouched.

The school refused to investigate the matter, dismissing it as the unfounded cries of another attention-seeking girl. I was alone in my pain and anger, with no one to turn to for justice.

Where was Ghostface when I needed him?

One of the best movies. Billy was my favorite character. I liked his craziness and dark eyes conveyed his intent to kill. But there wasn't a real Billy to save me from my thoughts and torment, which kept me from being able to face the world around this time of year. I stayed in my dorm for over a week. Depression, fear, and worry consumed me. I thought the video would finally fade into the past each year, but it always resurfaced again. And now, on this night, it was plastered all over social media again.

Not only did they take my body, but they allowed the whole world to see it.

I couldn't bring myself to leave the safety of my room. I saw those bastards' faces leering at me whenever I closed my eyes. Their hands on my body. The sound of their laughter rang in my ears. How could anyone do something so heinous and then laugh about it?

I felt like a ghost was haunting the halls of my mind. I had no parents to confide in, and I had no one who showed concern for me. My father walked out on us when I was young, and my mother was dead.

I couldn't escape the constant reminders of what happened. Everywhere I turned online, there were discussions about consent and victim blaming, considering recent high-profile sexual assault cases in Hollywood and politics.

People were sharing articles about how rape culture is still prevalent in our society and how we need to teach young men about consent from a young age. It made me angry that this was still an issue - that people were still questioning whether victims were "asking for it" or if they "really meant no".

It made me feel like everyone was talking about me, judging me for not being strong enough to fight back or say no loud enough.

I wanted to scream at them and tell them that none of that mattered because when someone is bigger and stronger than you and has your body pinned down against your will, there is little you can do. There was no way I could have fought off those guys.

As I sat on my bed, staring at the scissors on my desk, a part of me wanted to grab them and use them to relieve the pain inside. But another part of me knew it wouldn't solve anything. It would only make things worse.

I forced myself to get up and start packing my things. I couldn't stay in this room any longer. I needed to get away, even if it was just for a little while.

As I zipped up the bag, my eyes drifted to the scissors. They seemed to be calling out to me, tempting me with their sharp points and the power those shiny metal things held in hurting me.

I quickly shook off those thoughts and picked up my bag, determined not to give in.

I walked out of my room and down the hall, trying not to look anyone in the eye. I didn't want them to see how broken I was or how vulnerable I felt.

But as soon as I stepped outside, I felt like everyone could see right through me. Like everyone was judging me.

My pace increased as I hurried, eager to vanish from sight.

I sat in a corner of the massive library, engrossed in writing on my laptop, one of my favorite hiding spots on campus. As the words kept flowing from my fingertips, my thoughts slowly drifted away from the dark abyss consuming me.

Students were quietly working on the other side when a loud group ran through the library, shouting Freddy's song from Nightmare on Elm Street.

I looked around the bookcase to see them laughing when a man behind them, clad in black with a red light-up mask, caught my attention. I didn't think much of it then, but his departure left an unsettling feeling behind—the feeling that creeps in when you sense something is about to happen.

The noise left as quickly as it entered, and soon the vast building was silent again.

Halloween has always been a beloved holiday for me. I eagerly embraced dressing up and reveling in the yearly festivities. However, everything changed two years ago on this fateful night. This night would forever alter the way I viewed Halloween. The unspeakable horror I endured at the hands of those men has now overshadowed the once pleasant memories I shared with my late mother while trick-or-treating and enjoying choosing our costumes. It was as if those cherished memories had become buried deep within my soul, concealed beneath a thick layer of darkness. Would they ever resurface? Could they ever emerge from the depths where they lay hidden, seemingly entombed forever? I honestly had no idea. Uncertain about whether I could fully recover from the trauma, I wondered if I would ever be the same person I once was.

My thoughts were interrupted when the same group ran through the library, throwing rolls of toilet paper over the bookshelves as they passed while Carl was still yelling that stupid song.

A figure dressed in a Leatherface costume appeared in the aisle, catching my attention as I sat on the floor with my laptop. Our eyes met briefly before the man wearing the red LED mask stepped in and urged him to move on. The masked man towered over the Leatherface, at least four inches taller and more intimidating. The Leather face character seemed to be trying to scare me, but the masked man wasn't amused. As soon as the Leatherface guy left, the masked man stayed behind, watching me closely as he leaned against one of the bookshelves.

I quickly diverted my gaze and began gathering my things. I glanced up again, only to find the masked man had vanished without a single noise.

Creeped out, I finished gathering my belongings and hastily departed from the library. That was stupid, venturing out on Halloween. It was not the wisest choice.

As I walked outside, the cool autumn air greeted me. But it did little to soothe my fear and unease. The incident in the library had left me on edge, and I found myself nervously glancing over my shoulder every few seconds.

The overwhelming urge to reach my dorm room for a sense of security washed over me. I quickened my pace, eventually breaking into a sprint until I came to the safety of my dormitory.

In my dorm room, I lay on my stomach with my laptop before me, attempting to work on my manuscript again. The story revolves around a young woman who tragically lost her life because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. As a vengeful ghost, she embarked on a mission to seek retribution by haunting and ultimately killing her murderers.

The sudden ping of my phone broke the peace midway through my meditation.

Grabbing my phone from the top of the comforter, I slid the button to open it. A message from an unknown number appeared at the top of my screen. If it hadn't been a creepy night before, it definitely was now.

Unknown: Tonight, it begins.

My mouth gaped open, and I was at a loss for words. What the hell was I supposed to say to that?

After a few minutes of shock, I got the courage to reply.

Lyric: Who is this? How did you get my number?

A picture of the same masked man as before then appeared, followed by three tiny bubbles.

Gasping, I dropped my phone and practically leaped from my bed, causing my computer to fall on the floor as I scrambled to my feet. My heart raced as I stared at the picture of the masked man on my phone that lay on my comforter. How did he get my number? And what did he mean by 'tonight, it begins'?

I quickly picked up my laptop and checked to see if I had broken anything. Luckily, everything was fine.

Another ping.

Nervously, I bit my nails as I stared down at my phone, gradually inching my feet closer to it. My heart was pounding as I debated whether to open the message from the unknown number.

Don't you dare pick that up, Lyric.

However, curiosity got the better of me, and with shaking hands, I picked up my phone. With a deep breath, I unlocked the device.

Unknown: Don't be afraid. I only want to play.

My breath caught in my throat as anxiety coursed through me.

Without really thinking about it, I typed out a response.

Lyric: What do you want from me?

Unknown: Your help.

Lyric: Help with what?

Unknown: Revenge.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What did the masked man need revenge for? And why was he involving me in it?

Lyric: Stop messing with me. Who is this?

Unknown: Your savior.