Chapter Text
Campus was small. Small to the extent that everyone knew everyone, or so they liked to think. Even if you didn’t know someone by name, maybe you’d seen them at a party or in passing on the way to a lecture. It was odd when a new name, face, or voice popped up in the roster of people that inhabited the minds of every student. And that odd thing was happening to Lewis at that very moment.
Lewis Hamilton - popular, charismatic, and kind. It’s how he would describe himself and likely how everyone else he knew would too. He was quarterback for the football team, which obviously would catapult anyone to being the center of attention around campus. And, to be fair, he was also pretty good at his job, so that made an even bigger impact on his peers. He was social to the point that his 1-bedroom apartment, which was right on the edges of campus, was almost always full of other football guys or anyone else who happened to get on his good side, which was, to be fair, a lot of people.
It was weird that there was no one at his house on that quiet weeknight. Campus in general was relatively mellow, with only the faint noises of some intimate house parties able to be heard from his cracked window. He had cooked up some popcorn and was planning to just kick back and watch a movie to pass the night away. That popcorn in question was currently cooking away in the microwave, and he could hear the popping from where he sat on his couch. He’d had a game yesterday that had left him feeling pretty sore, so he wasn’t complaining about the fact he could slump on the couch and do nothing for the rest of the night.
That was, however, until his phone rang.
Grabbing it from his pocket, he squinted at the screen, noticing that he didn’t have a contact saved. Either it was some stupid spam that he’d hang up on in two seconds or maybe it was a classmate whom he’d absentmindedly given his number to for any number of reasons. To be honest, he didn’t really want to deal with either of those possibilities at the moment, but it was only polite to answer. And so he did.
“Hello?” he said neutrally, his eyes flitting over to the microwave, where the sound of popping was getting louder and louder. Hopefully, the conversation he was about to have would end before the microwave buzzer went off and his night of relaxation officially began. If that didn’t end up being the case, then… so be it. He didn’t really have anything better to be doing.
“Hey, this is Lewis, right?” A female voice called back to him on the other end of the line. Lewis blinked, thinking if he’d heard that voice before. He racked through his mind for a moment, but no results came up. New girl, though? He wasn’t opposed to that. Depending on who she was, of course. Hopefully not some clever telemarketer or political junkie.
“Yep, this is he,” Lewis murmured, forcing himself off the couch so he could shut off the microwave before it beeped. He grabbed quickly at the popcorn, not wanting to burn his hands. While resting his phone in the crook of his shoulder, he opened up the bag and let the steam inside rush out. “And this is…?”
“Oh, j-just a classmate, that’s all,” the girl stuttered slightly, drawing Lewis to raise his eyebrow. Just a classmate, huh? Guess it wasn’t one he’d made an introduction to at any point. But that didn’t mean much if she was calling him. For whatever reason that may be for. “I just wanted to say hi… um… a friend gave me your number.” Well, that was sure something. Lewis smiled, checking the status of his popcorn. Not burned. Score.
“Well, here I am. Lewis Hamilton, at your service,” he murmured, ruffling around in the bag of popcorn before he found an extra buttery piece. He popped it in his mouth, chewing slowly. This was still a bit odd, but it wasn’t like girls didn’t give each other guys’ numbers. And he was a guy who had a lot of admirers, too. Despite it being a little odd, it definitely wasn’t the worst thing he’d experienced in his life. There were a boatload of stories that he’d chosen to push to the back of his mind, that was for sure
“What’s that I hear? Popcorn?” the girl laughed and Lewis smiled, popping another piece into his mouth.
“Yep, fresh out the microwave.”
“Ugh, now I wish I had some with me.”
Lewis chuckled under his breath, sitting down on the sofa and kicking up his feet. Despite the objective oddity of the conversation at hand, he wasn’t not enjoying himself. He imagined the girl in his mind. Hopefully cute, right? Maybe in his year, maybe not. Could be someone some of his teammates knew. He knew George was always a baller with the girls. Maybe he’d decided to send one his way. “So, what’s up?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just getting ready to watch a movie.”
“Sick, me too,” Lewis shoved a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth and fumbled for the TV remote so he wouldn’t have to go searching for it later on when he actually needed it.
The girl giggled, and Lewis imagined she was blushing on the other end of the line. “What type of movie?”
“Good question… I was thinking maybe a scary one. Good for a night alone, especially around Halloween time,” he joked. Hey, depending on how this went, maybe he wouldn’t have to be alone that night. He liked the sound of her voice. He imagined he’d like the rest of her too.
“Oooh, that’s fun. Do you like scary movies?”
“I’m definitely a fan of them.”
“What’s your favorite?” Lewis hummed for a moment under his breath, thinking of the possibilities. Well, he’d certainly seen a bunch of them, so his mind was buzzing with whatever one might sound the best to a chick he’d never spoken to before. Couldn’t go too crazy, but couldn’t be too coy either.
“I’m a fan of Halloween. A classic,” he laughed, hearing a return giggle on the other end.
“That’s a good one. I think my favorite is probably… Nightmare on Elm Street. That’s another classic. Have you seen it?” she asked shyly. He smiled, leaning his head back into the couch cushions.
“Of course I have! That’s a great one. So… other than a movie… you got any other plans tonight?” he said slowly, testing the waters quite lightly. He didn’t want to come off too strongly in his intentions, but seeing as she had been the one to call him and act so cutesy, she had probably had similar intentions to him.
“Oh… I didn’t really. But I’m not opposed to new plans.”
“You never really got to introduce yourself…?” he asked smoothly, taking a look out the window. The streets were illuminated outside his first-floor apartment, one of the street lights flickering a bit. The campus would need to get that one checked out. He focused back on the conversation, awaiting the answer.
“I moved here recently, so you probably wouldn’t know me. I got your number from your friend George. I met him in economics class,” she explained, bringing a smile to Lewis’ face. Of course it was George. That made a lot of sense, honestly. Any worries he had had about the source of this conversation quickly melted away.
“Oh George, always wanting to introduce me to new people,” he laughed, the corner of his mouth lifting in some sort of smirk-smile.
“Hopefully i-it’s not an issue I called…”
“No, no issue at all! I love learning a new voice and name,” he laughed, assuring her quickly that there were no qualms on his side of the conversation. She let out a sigh of relief he could hear through the phone, which made his smile grow just a little bit. Good, good. As long as the conversation was kept on a positive note, that was all that mattered. Even if nothing came out of it.
“That’s good to hear. It’s nice to hear your voice. Confirms that I’m looking at the right guy right now.”
Lewis paused for a moment. That sentence… that was odd. Maybe she was foreign with a weird grammar structure or something, but whatever she’d just said, it rubbed him the wrong way. Looking at… what? He couldn’t help but let his eyes turn to the window once more. There was nothing more than that flickering street light and the empty road. Eerily quiet. He turned his attention back to the phone, swallowing a little bit harder than he meant to.
“What’d you just say? Looking at?” he asked cautiously, drawing an innocent giggle from the other end.
“Did I say something weird?”
“Yeah… yeah, you did.” Another flit of his eyes to the window. Another flit back to the blank TV. “Correct me if I’m wrong…”
“Then you heard me correctly.”
The hair on the back of Lewis’ neck raised. Not to the point where he was terrified, but he was certainly cautious. “And what did you mean by that, exactly?”
“Meant exactly what I said. Good to see I can connect that voice to a face.” Something had changed about her tone. It was… smoother, less pulled back from things. Way more in your face. That wasn’t the type of tone most girls would use after stuttering for half the conversation. He narrowed his eyes, tempted to hang up and just set the phone down. He decided that was the best course of action. This was just… so weird.
“Yeah, this is too much. See you around,” Lewis mumbled, hanging up the phone and setting it down beside him on the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tiny droplets of sweat that had formed. He didn’t really know what to think at that moment. Maybe he could just go back to his idea of watching a movie and let whatever thoughts he’d had about this whole situation drain out. But then the phone rang again.
He debated not picking it up. He really shouldn't have. But something in his brain was screaming at him that he had no choice. So he answered. “Seriously, what’s your deal?” Lewis snapped, breathing hard through his nose.
“I don’t know, what’s your deal?” That voice wasn’t female. Not at all.
Lewis reeled back at the change, completely unsure of what was going on. Was this someone different? But it was the same number, he was sure of it. Had some guy kidnapped a girl and forced her to talk to him over the phone? What sort of sick kicks was someone getting out of this shit? “Dude, fuck off, please. This isn’t funny.”
“I think it’s hilarious, mate,” the voice laughed. It was a raspy voice and one he didn’t recognize from anyone he’d met recently. Again, odd that whoever these people were, they weren’t people he even had the slightest clue of. “It’s crazy. You’re freaking out over what, one sentence? I thought you were some tough guy.” He was sickeningly calm behind that humor. It was more terrifying that anything. Lewis’ eyes tore around the apartment before his body followed. He raced from the couch, running to the kitchen and looking around uneasily. After a moment of panic, he forced himself to quiet, his arm that wasn’t holding the phone falling to his side. Why was he freaking out so much? His apartment was small and he hadn’t seen anyone outside. It was completely quiet as he stood still, breathing hard into the phone. Whoever was on the other end could definitely tell he was terrified.
“I’m not scared of you, man. Whoever you are, don’t fuck with me,” Lewis spat over the phone, gripping it so hard he thought he might crack his screen. The male voice laughed again, sending more ice up his spine. So casual. Way, way too casual.
“Ah, but maybe you should be. I mean, you’re acting like I can’t see you right now.”
“You can’t! Stop bluffing!”
“Is that so? Do I need to prove to you that I’m not? Prove to you that I’m not about to gut you like a fucking fish?”
“I…” Lewis didn’t want to answer that. He didn’t want to admit that he felt a cold piercing deep into his bones. That he was shaking. He was fucking shaking.
That as much as he didn’t want to admit that he felt there was some truth to that man’s statements, deep down, he knew there was.
He gritted his teeth, shaking his head. He had to be tough. He was better than this. Some fucking idiot bluffing at him over the phone wouldn’t destroy his confidence that quickly. “Fucking prove it. I know you can’t.”
“Heh, well, whatever you say. If I can’t prove it to you, I think your friend George might be able to help.”
“What does George have to do with this?”
“More than you think. Now, where’s the one place in your apartment you haven’t been since you came home?” As much as he didn’t want to think about that, Lewis did. He’d come home from hanging out with some friends from the football team and had flopped on his bed for a bit before going to the kitchen to make popcorn to have with his movie. So what was left was only… the bathroom. Lewis froze. For the first time in this whole thing, he was completely petrified. He’s bluffing. He’s bluffing. He’s bluffing. He repeated that to himself as many times as he could possibly manage. But it didn’t feel like bluffing anymore. And what the hell did George have to do with any of this? God… what the hell did any of this have to do with anything? But Lewis felt obligated. Obligated to admit that he wanted to chase any possibility of realizing that all of this was faked and that this was just some stupid prank by his stupid friends. He walked slowly to the bathroom, biting his lip as he grabbed the door handle. Fuck. Fuck. He turned it so slowly that it barely made a noise, only interrupting the silence when the door creaked on its hinges. What he saw made him drop his phone, still on the line with this psycho, immediately to the ground.
Blood everywhere. On the walls, on the vanity, and in the bathtub. Oh God, so much in the bathtub. And there, in the tub, the source of all of it, lying in a pool of his own blood that sloshed around at the bottom of the tub, was George. His good friend George - a lovely guy with charm and wit that extended to all those around him. He lay still, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his mouth slack around a gag that had been tightly tied around his face. Lewis didn’t know where to look first. This was all overwhelming. He was dreaming, right? Yes, totally dreaming. He scrunched his eyes shut, temporarily blacking out the gruesome scene that lay in front of him. He’d open up his eyes and he’d be in his bed staring at the ceiling. Unpleasant dreams happened. That was all this was. But when he opened his eyes back up, there was still blood everywhere. George was still fucking dead in the bathtub in front of him. He was dead, right? Lewis forced his feet to move towards his friend, ignoring the squelch of blood under his feet. He wanted to vomit. He would probably vomit if he was forced to look at this any longer. But he continued to edge himself forward until he was knelt next to the tub.
George was motionless. Lewis’ eyes scanned his body, grimacing at what lay in front of him. His neck was slit, likely the source of most of the blood that was pooled in the tub, but he’d also been literally gutted. The sight of intestines somewhere that wasn’t inside of a body pushed Lewis over the edge. He leaned over and vomited on the floor, shaking desperately as he tried to steady himself against the edge of the tub. It was slick with blood. God, so much blood. He couldn’t look at this shit anymore. But… how had this even happened? He looked up quickly, noticing that the window to the bathroom was opened, the lock broken and hanging aimlessly. Ah, that would explain it. Explained at least how this killer had gotten in. But had he gotten out? Lewis’ blood ran cold. That was the question he didn’t want to think about answering.
Why him? Why George? This was some sick, cruel joke. No, this went past anything that could even constitute a joke in any sense. He ran a hand over his face, not even comprehending the fact that he had accidentally just wiped some of the blood from the edge of the tub over it. He didn’t care at that point. He needed to get out of there. He could literally see his front door if he angled his head correctly looking out the bathroom. As much as he wanted to stay by George’s side, he wasn’t safe here. He had shit to live for and… it made him sick to even think about it, but George didn’t. He was dead. Fucking dead. Yet the moment that Lewis made any move to stand up, he heard a sick laugh over the phone. He’d completely forgotten that he was still on the line with the bastard who had done all of this.
Grabbing his phone in his hand, he gritted his teeth, hot tears licking at his cheeks. “What the fuck is going on? Why are you doing this?” he spat, heaving deep breaths as he tried to keep himself in check as much as he could. He could see the door. He could see it in the corner of his eye.
“It’s fun to play games, mate. Don’t you love a fun game? Isn’t this fun?” the voice on the line chuckled out, though there was some sadistic hiss that managed to worm its way into his tone. This was anything but a game. This was torture. Lewis started to try to scramble to his feet, his feet slipping against the blood that was splattered across the floor. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Lewis looked down at his phone, but before he could say a word, the call ended, shut off from the other end of the line. That bastard had hung up on him! Jesus, this was… he didn’t even know how to describe it. But he didn’t care what anyone said to him. He was going to get out. He had to.
Finally managing to scramble to his feet, he took a few deep breaths. He was a quarterback. He was fast. If there was anyone waiting in his apartment for him, he could outrun them. All he had to do was make it to the door, unlock it, and bolt. He took one more deep breath and put every bit of effort he could into springing up and bolting towards the front door. He didn’t want to leave George, but he had no choice. His hands were on the door in seconds, expertly unlocking it and opening it, ready to sprint.
But the moment he opened it, the moment he guaranteed his escape, he was shoved back inside.
Lewis couldn’t comprehend what was happening as he fell hard against the floor, his head knocking against the hardwood. It took him only a second to gain full consciousness back, but when he looked up at who had pushed him back inside, his blood ran cold. What? What? Standing in front of him was what appeared to be a man, but he was dressed in some sort of… Halloween costume. Black robe that fell to just around his knees, legs covered in black pants to match. Black hood pulled over his head, too. But what caught Lewis’ attention was the mask he was wearing. It was white with black eyes, but it was shaped like that one painting. What was it… The Scream? Something like that. It was so unsettling.
Oh, and the knife in his hand. That was unsettling too.
The mysterious figure locked the door behind him before he stepped forward, knife gripped in his hand with the intention to plunge it forward. Lewis realized quickly that if he wanted to live, he would have to fight. There was no way he could run for the door with the way this guy was blocking it. Fuck, he had no choice. Quickly, he kicked out his legs, catching the man in his shins. He grunted, stumbling to give Lewis just the amount of time he needed to scoot backward before hopping up. But by the time he’d gained his balance, the man was charging towards him, arms outstretched. Lewis raised his own, immediately feeling the knife slice against his forearm. He cried out in pain, trying his best to push against the man with his uninjured arm. But, unfortunately for him, this figure was bigger than him and probably stronger too. Lewis’ shove only threw him off balance for a moment. He realized then and there that if he wanted to have a chance, he had to put all his body weight into his attack. So, in line with that, he completely threw himself at this figure, knocking into him with an elbow to the chest. Another grunt left the man’s mouth, but he was strong. He threw Lewis to the side, causing him to lose his balance again. When he gained back his senses, he narrowly missed a slice of the knife that would’ve taken off his ear and cheek.
Stepping backward, Lewis watched as the man lunged forward at him, knife outstretched once again. This time, he had nowhere to go, as he was pushed back against the kitchen counter. All he could do was dodge, and dodge he did. A swipe of the knife missed his neck, but another one hit him in the shoulder, slicing through skin and muscle. He screamed out in pain, trying for another shove, but the strength in his already-injured arm was almost meaningless. Before he knew it, the man had grabbed his shoulders and thrown him to the ground, the back of his head hitting the countertop as he went down.
Dazed, Lewis blinked, attempting to gain his strength back, but he was already losing too much blood from the wounds on his shoulder and forearm. God, this was it. It was over. He was going to end up gutted in the bathtub with George. His short, short life was ending long before it should’ve. Tears started to run down his cheeks more forcefully than before as he slumped against the cabinets, his eyes moving up to meet the masked face of the man who was about to, as he had said earlier, gut him like a fish. It was impossible to tell what emotions were going on behind that mask, but by the way that voice had sounded on the phone, he was sick. Sick in the mind, sick in everything. But he was also most certainly proud of himself. Lewis leaned his head against the wood behind him, forcing back a sob. Before he could react in any sense, either mentally or physically, the man reached his knife back and plunged it into Lewis’ chest. Immediately, he saw red behind his eyes. It hurt. It hurt so bad. His body slumped further against the cabinet. He could feel the blood starting to pool underneath him on the floor.
Another stab, straight to the chest again. He gasped and tried to scream, but no words came out. Nothing but a trickle of blood from what was starting to gurgle in his mouth.
More red. More red.
Another stab.
Red. Then everything started to fade. God, everything started to leave so fast. He tried to hold on. He tried so hard. But then it came. Black. Black. Black.