After that painfully quiet lunch,the empty trays were shoved away.
Miles stretched his arms and stood up with a groan.
"Ugh… lunch sucks like always—except for the gum I pop in afterward."
Jenna adjusted her newly glued glasses.
"Your gum's still better than my mom's rotting rice. I swear, I nearly died last night trying to stomach plain boiled pasta."
The three of them walked out of the cafeteria in silence, accompanied only by the wind blowing in the opposite direction.
As they passed the staircase, Miles spoke—half-joking, but the weight behind his voice was real.
"Did you guys hear? Another student's gone missing."
Jenna froze."Again? How many is that now?"
Miles paused, counting with his fingers.
"If we're talking since the start of the month… that's number five."
Billy slowly lifted his head—like it was only just sinking in that something truly strange was going on.
Miles leaned in and lowered his voice.
"Do you guys remember that upperclassman… Ezra Calloway?"
Jenna furrowed her brows, trying to recall."The one with six fingers on his left hand? Pretty face, baked amazing stuff… looked better than half the girls?"
Miles snapped his fingers.
"That's him! The girls here were basically worshipping him. Art class always made him the model. You remember that, right?"
Billy nodded slowly.The name Ezra was starting to float up in his memory.
"He went missing Friday evening.Just… disappeared."
Jenna whispered, "This is insane. That's five people. And every one of them… they just vanish, like smoke. Unless one of his fangirls kidnapped him, which—ugh, honestly? I wouldn't even blame them. I'm jealous."
Miles snorted."If it were us that disappeared, the headlines would probably read, 'Three loser kids found dead behind the cafeteria.'"
Jenna slapped his shoulder."Don't joke like that, you dick."
They laughed—nervously.It wasn't funny, but fear makes you say weird things.
The final school bell rang.
They stood at the front gate, not saying a word.Then, like always, they parted ways.
No one brought up the cat.Or the blood.Or Dillon's laughter.
But the images lingered…hiding behind their eyes.
Billy's Home – Early Evening
The dinner table was silent.Again, meat pie.
He was sick of pie.
His mother smiled faintly.His father ate in silence.No one talked.
Billy said nothing.A few bites.Then quietly excused himself and went upstairs.
He was tired—so, so tired.
He lay in bed, trying to sleep.
Silence.
But it didn't last.
The shouting began.
"You slut! This is how you treat your family?""And what about you?! You think you've been a good husband?!"
"What the hell did you just say to me?""He's more of a man than you'll ever be.""You fucking bitch!"
Billy pulled a pillow over his ears—pressed harder.
But the sounds still bled through.
He pressed even harder—and then… silence.
Had they stopped?
A moment passed.
Then—footsteps.
Heavy. Deliberate.Climbing the stairs.
Thud… Thud… Thud…
The door creaked open.
His father's tall figure loomed in the dark.
That rough, heavy hand of a man who had labored for years reached out…
…and gently touched his son's face.
Then—
it wrapped around Billy's throat.
Billy kicked.
Tried to scream.
Nothing came out.
Air was fading—
He was dying.
Then his father leaned in.A whisper, hoarse and hollow:
"You know… I never loved you.""You're a fucking disgrace.""Every time I look at you, I hate myself.""I've held it in for sixteen goddamn years.""Sixteen years… of feeding you… of schooling you…""But here's what you need to know before you die."
"You're not my son. You're her mistake. A bastard."
Tears streamed down Billy's face.He was turning red—about to lose consciousness.
In a final act of desperation—Billy jabbed his thumb straight into his father's eye.
"AAARGHH!!!""MY FUCKING EYE!""You little shit!!!"
Blood sprayed.His father screamed and fell to the floor.
Billy didn't wait.
He leapt out of bed—barefoot—and ran.
Down the stairs.
But just before the door—
He froze.
His mother was lying on the floor.Blood smeared the wall behind the stove.
Her eyes were wide open.Her mouth trembled, like she was trying to say something.Too faint to hear.
Billy stood there.Heart pounding.
Should he run?Or go to her?
A second passed—Then two—Three—
Then a voice.Not his own.
"Screw that woman.Run.Get out of this hell."
He didn't know whose voice it was.But it made the choice for him.
He turned.
And ran.
He ran—fast—toward only place he could think of—
Miles' house.
His bare feet slapped against the pavement.His breath was heavy.The porch light flickered as he arrived.
He banged on the door.
It opened seconds later.
Miles stood there in pajamas—a ripped T-shirt and old soccer shorts.
"Billy…? What the hell—"
Then he saw the blood on Billy's face.
Miles froze.
He wanted to ask—but didn't.
"…Come in."
Billy nodded and stepped inside.
Miles handed him a jacket and old sneakers.
"Change, man. If my mom sees you like this, she's calling the cops."
Typical Miles—still joking.
But his eyes weren't smiling.
They were serious.Worried.
Once Billy had changed and sat quietly, frozen like stone—
Miles spoke again.
"We should go to the treehouse.If there's anyone who'll help you tonight… it's that loudmouth of ours."
Billy nodded—silent still.
Jenna's House
She answered the door after three knocks.
Hair frizzy, glasses askew, soup stains on her shirt.
"If this isn't about a fire or a robbery, I swear I'm gonna—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Her eyes landed on Billy.The dried blood on his cheek.
"Holy shit… your dad's moved on to knives now?"
Miles shrugged.
"If I had to name tonight like a movie chapter?'Hell Night: Family Massacre.'"
Jenna rolled her eyes.
"Let me go wash my face. I'm coming with."
The Treehouse – Night
The three of them sat under a flickering flashlight.
Jenna sat down beside Billy.
"Spill it. What the hell happened?"
Billy was quiet.
Miles stepped in, voice low.
"You don't have to say it now…But whatever we do next—we'll figure it out."
Jenna's voice softened too.
"I might talk shit a lot…But I don't ditch friends who knock on my door with blood on their face."
Billy exhaled.
The flashlight cast long shadows against the old wooden walls.The wind whispered through the trees.
Finally—he spoke.
"My dad… said I wasn't his.Then he… he tried to choke me."
"I ran.My mom… she was lying there… bleeding…"
His voice trembled.
Before Jenna could respond—
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Footsteps.
From the forest below.
Louder. Closer.
Miles grabbed the flashlight.Locked eyes with the others.
Knock… Tap… Thump…
Something was calling for them to come down.
"Who the hell is that…?" Miles whispered.
Jenna grabbed the flashlight.
"Don't shine it down there yet—"
Too late.
She peeked out the window and aimed the light.
...
A woman.
Standing.
Looking up.
A blood-stained T-shirt.Hair torn in clumps.One ear missing.Half her fingers gone.Fresh stitches across her lips.
She croaked—
"…Help… me…"
Her hand gripped the trunk of the tree.
Jenna froze, eyes wide.
"What happened to her…" Billy murmured.
Then—
Rustling.From the opposite side.Heavy, fast steps.
From the shadows—
He emerged.
Tall, lean.
Wearing only a leather apron,head shrouded in a dark cowl that left a pale face exposed.
He said nothing.
Just grabbed the woman's arm.
She struggled, clawing at him.
He pulled out—
A syringe.
Shk—He plunged it into her neck.
Seconds later, she went limp.
"...Miles…" Billy whispered.
"I see it…" Miles barely breathed.
"Should we call the cops?" he asked.
"...With whose phone? Genius. We left them all at home," Jenna snapped, voice shaking.
They could only watch.
The figure lifted the woman in his arms.Then looked up—
Right at them.
He smiled.
And vanished into the woods.
Silence.
Jenna clenched her fists.
Miles hugged his knees.
Billy—sweating, heart racing—stared at the trees.
Jenna finally spoke, voice dry but firm.
"We can't just sit here…"
Miles turned.
"You're joking, right? We just saw—whatever the fuck that was—take someone right in front of us!"
Jenna met his eyes.
"Want to wait till it's us next, Miles?"
Billy still said nothing.
"But what if it's all connected—""The missing people. The body parts…" Jenna added.
They all went quiet again.
No brave words.No plan.
Just fear.
And resolve.
"We might be losers—but if we keep doing nothing…"
"There'll just be more bodies."
Jenna whispered.
And then, they all looked back into the darkness—
Not as victims anymore.
But as the only witnesses left who might still do something.
If it's not already too late.