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Blood and dirt cake your jeans but that’s the least of your worries. Your heart is pounding in your ears and you can’t tell whether or not it’s actually your own heartbeat or his sometimes. You wouldn’t hear his though, he moves in complete silence.
You should run, you really should but you know he’s waiting. Unlike most killers, The Ghost Face, Danny, isn’t one who relies on brute strength or speed. No, he’s something more dangerous. Silent and cunning. You can feel his eyes on you wherever you move but you never catch a glimpse of them.
He waits in the shadows until you’re just sure he isn’t around. Mindgames and stealth give him the upper hand. At least with the other killers, you can get them in your sights so you know where to avoid, but not with Danny. His style leaves you completely on edge. No place is safe from him.
The rustle of grass makes you jump but it’s nothing but the breeze. Sometimes you think you hear the swift movement of the fabric of his outfit but the echo of a caw reminds you it’s just the rustle of a crow's feathers.
A generator pops in the distance only to be shortly followed by the scream of a fellow survivor being hooked. The deep rumble of the Entity coming to claim her sacrifice echoes across the realm. That makes three sacrificed. You’re all that’s left.
You need to find the hatch. That yawning sound calling out to you for your last chance at escape. God please, let that cool air grace your skin as you freefall in the darkness back to the campfire.
You’re crouched behind a tree doing your best to patch yourself up before making a break for it. Based on the last indicators, he should be on the other side of the map. Despite that, you don't exactly want to bleed out on your way out or give him any more clues to where you could be.
A grunt leaves your lips as you finish pulling the needle through the flesh on your side, tying the stitch off quickly and leaving your med kit empty. You had one shot at this.
The beeline to the killer’s shack in the middle of the realm is your best option. No more time for sneaking around, it was make or break.
It seemed Danny had the same idea, however.
Adrenaline fills your veins as you push off the ground. The tingle in your fingertips and toes is an afterthought as you nearly fly across the barren locale. The shack grows larger in your vision as you come upon it. So close. The doorway is right in front you just need to-
Suddenly something heavy strikes you from the side knocking you into the dirt. You’re stunned but try to scramble to your feet. You turn your head to see Danny materialize nearly out of thin air. Night Shroud.
“Now where did you think you’re going?” He practically coos.
Before you can reply he slashes his blade across your exposed back. It burns deep. A shriek escapes you and you fall flat in front of him, the dirt covering your face. He laughs.
“Oh! The hatch, of course! Let me get that for you.” You know behind the vacant eyes of his mask he’s smiling. He steps around you, toward the vague sound of the wind tunnel. He looms over, heavy boots crunching in the dirt and meeting the edge of the hatch’s door. One kick and it slams shut. Your last option out, gone.
“Now, where were we again?”
Your blood runs cold, you need to get up but you can’t. In vain you crawl away from him. No destination in mind, all you can think of is putting distance between you and Danny, tears mixing with the blood splattered across your cheeks as panic swells.
Dirt clings to the underside of your nails with every pull you can muster.
He simply tuts, you’ve barely made it an inch.
“Don’t bore me now, at this rate you’ll bleed out before we have any real fun.”
A scream leaves your lips as you feel his blade tear through the meat of your calf. He drags you toward him by the hilt of his blade and your stomach turns. Every pull drives it closer to the bone, the pain sickeningly sharp yet dull. You don’t know whether or not it’d be luck or a disadvantage to blackout at this point.
You can hear how quickly he’s breathing when you’re finally underneath him. This excites him, but not enough for him to get messy. He’s the opposite of sloppy, he’s calculated.
He leans down, the smell of cologne just barely peeking through the heavy smell of iron and the outdoors clinging to the fabric of his clothing.
“You’re my favorite, you know.” Danny’s breath is light and hot against your ear. “Around the campfire, that feeling you’re being watched? You are.”
It took you an embarrassingly long time to realize the low whimpers came from you.
“You all think you’re so vigilant, having someone stay on watch outside of trials. I may not be able to do anything to you but what better place to learn about you? What makes you tick, what you like, your life before this, and what truly, deeply, scares you.” Sharp pain radiates through your leg as he emphasizes his point, pushing on the handle of his knife with each word before yanking it out in one swift movement.
Your fingers claw around the sparse grass in front of you so hard they ache. Screaming won’t do you any good but you can’t help the way it tears through your chest, etching its sore reminder up your throat. All you can do is bury your head in the ground, dirt collecting on your lips as you try and catch your breath between sobs.
Were you really brought here just for this, is this all the entity’s realm was good for? How many pounds of flesh would you all have to pay until she was satisfied. And how many pounds would each killer be willing to take until she was bloated and content with the misery?
You wished you could skip forward, to the part where you wake up by the fire surrounded by your fellow survivors. Some you could even consider friends. But it wasn’t that easy, it never was.
You were so in your head, lost in the depths that you didn’t even register Danny’s hand sliding underneath the both of you. The pull of your jeans zipper snapped you back to reality. You had half a mind to kick away from him but he didn’t care. His hand slid into your pants, toying with the hem of your underwear and you swear you heard him chuckle under his mask.
Your leg felt hot and throbbed with each pulse of your heart, fresh blood staining your jeans. The wound on your back felt exposed and raw as the breeze caught the cooling blood. Your eyes burned, prickling with fresh tears but you knew they were pointless. You didn’t want to be here right now, you didn’t want this.
Everything hurt so bad, your mind, your body, but the prickle of pleasure building between your legs causes a groan to escape your lips. You’d hoped he’d mistake it for pain but he’s not stupid. He can’t mistake the slightest grind of your hips into his hand either.
“Maybe we’ll play a game huh? See if you finish or bleed out first,” the grin in his voice is unmistakable. He must’ve lifted his mask out of the way because his breath is hot on your neck, the rumble of his laugh in his chest sounded like it echoes through your skull. His hand slides out from its place at your center and he rests them on your hips instead, canting them upward to level with himself. Your leg protests but it’s the last thing in your mind right now.
His lips are at your ear, grazing them with their surprising softness. A low whisper “Does the fear get you off baby?”
The blade is back in his hand and he’s tearing through your jeans with ease, barely knicking your skin. The cool air of the realm making your skin prickle. With one hand still on your hip, Danny moves to free himself.
Lining himself up with you, you tense. You didn’t expect it to go here. The pain rushes back to your body as you become increasingly aware. The blood is caking what’s left of your jeans to your leg and it’s tight, you want to tear them off. Your hair raises, it’s so hot suddenly. Your mouth dries. What’s happening?
Panic creeps up your throat, a cry trapped and snuffed out too soon as he pushes himself in. He meets no resistance. An autonomous reaction allowing the wetness or not you don’t know, but he hits deep. The sound from his throat is primal. He’s been craving this. For how long? How long have you been marked with this target on your back?
Another thrust of his hips brushes somewhere deep inside you. The barren grime of the realm you’re both in is gone as your eyes slide shut. You hate to admit it but it feels good. God it feels good. Some pleasure in this fucked up place. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. A small respite from meat hooks and weapons that could gut you in a second. Another brush and you actually moan.
He’s laughing now. Full belly laughing as he picks up pace.
“That’s what I thought,” he coos as the knife you’d thought he abandoned grazes your throat and trails along your body. Fuck you didn’t know how long you were gonna last like this. You could already feel yourself winding like a cord, every thrust of his hips threatening to snap it.
You can’t help it, the thought of all those times he must’ve watched you without you knowing was helping you chase your high. How long did he watch, was it just curiosity or something else? A sick part of you wanted to know if you really were his favorite, special. How many has he done this to? How far did he go?
Your mouth hangs open, moans spilling out in a stream as your mind wanders and he grinds into you.
“There you go, who’s gonna win?” He grunts as he works you tighter. You’re so close. Your toes curl and spots begin to dance behind your eyes. The stretch of him, the heady smell of him, the feeling of his pants chafing your thighs. It’s all so much. It’s all closing in, the cord winding tighter, the end in sight.
The feeling floods you, the pleasure rushing to the surface. Your head lulls back as it overtakes you, a single shudder as your earth shatters, and your eyes snap open. The scream of your finish becomes a gurgle as the cold steel plunges once, twice into your flesh.
You slump, Danny sliding out of you as the lightning in your mind fades and your blood runs cold. Another kiss of the knife between skin and sinew. You’re desperate for air, to scream, to live. You pull in a sharp breath but the metallic tang of blood fills your throat and you choke, gagging as it spills forward in a stream. Every minute bit of air into your lungs is another sputtering of life from your throat. He must’ve hit a lung.
You barely register the pressure on your scalp as Danny lifts your head by the hair. Any pain is completely overshadowed as your entire body screams at the steel nestled between your ribs. Crimson liquid spills from between your lips as you choke over another breath in vain. The distant whir of the camera grasps your attention more than the flash does. You wonder if the film catches the dulling of your eyes.
Your head falls to the ground like an afterthought. Danny far more focused on the picture developing in his hands than where you might land. Everything was hazy now, you could barely focus.
Cold or numb, it was all the same. The pitiful intakes of air were too shallow to deserve the title of breaths. The thick coating of blood across your mouth let the dirt cling, like the icing on a fucked up cake. Vermilion treacle spilling from your lungs. It didn’t matter anymore. The cool fingers of death would finally curl around you, another successful offering to the entity. You’d wake up at the campfire once more without a hair out of place, like this was all a dream.
Your pulse was no more than a whisper as you stared ahead, half-lidded and unfocused. The gravel in the foreground is nearly invisible as your vision darkens.
“I won.”
Your eyes finally slide shut.