“jebačina (for fuck’s sake),” she hissed; it was very silly of her to get annoyed with the victim, knowing the outcome, but they could at least use their heads! And leading the other into the kitchen of all places! Don’t these people know you could fashion a weapon out of literally everything in that room? Besides that; it’s where all the knives are basically stored too! Abysmal, utter horseshit. She didn’t feel an ounce of pity for this young miss.
At least the murderer gave her something to laugh at.
She honestly wondered what was the deal with all that getup; she could understand using a mask along with other paraphernalia to obscure one’s identity, but she chuckled a bit at the imagery. Was the costume designed to mimic the common image of the grim reaper? Sort of overkill, no pun intended, but at least it wasn’t outlandish like many she had seen in the past. Mask was still bizarre in her mind, but she wasn’t the one doing the killing for the night, so she could care less.
“Well, it should be about time she croaks,” she succinctly swung her legs from her perch in the tree, before dropping down, her landing noiseless. Idly she wondered if she should take the other killer out as well, a sort of two for one deal. Not that she really had anything against him; it was simply a thought she had, one she might put into motion depending on his behavior when she catches him.
Still, there was the idea of keeping him alive, despite some probable hitches. After all; serial killers made the funeral business skyrocket, as morbid as that sounded. If there was anything she was going to take away from tonight at least, it would be that little blue ghost fire that she always collects from the deceased.
“Meh, I’ll wait until the weirdo comes outside,” she yawned, discreetly peering in through the windows. “No way in Veles am I going in there.”
[JACOB MILES//GHOSTFACE]
Speaking of going in there, it was time for GhostFace to shine.
Sure, the mask from the STABseries was iconic. It was on all sort of merchandise. From T-shirts to backpacks, even on postcards when it’s Halloween time here in Woodsboro. That was one time of the year he takes a break. It was a Michael Myers thing, even more so it was too obvious to kill anyone. At least personally to him.
Once the woman was distracted enough, the lights flicker out. Ghostface takes out the breaker. Making the girl scream scared. She frantically tries to pull out her smartphone, but a door opens.
He was in the house.
GhostFace used the darkness mostly to his advantage. Sure his outfit blends better, but the mask was the dead giveaway. But it was something someone would stare in disbelief. Caught off guard. Killed and dead.
That heavy breathing sent chills of excitement down GhostFace’s spine. He mimics hers back, sneaking behind her. Draws out his Bowie knife.
He raises it back up before a hair pull.
STAB! STAB! STAB!
Gargles of screams ooze out of the woman’s mouth. Blood drooling down her body and onto the pale tile floor. Her shoulder was being jabbed repeatedly. Though her eyes didn’t make it in time to witness, but only rolled back. Just like her knees caving in from the blood loss.
The killer follows along, still pounding his blade into her shoulder blade, just above the shoulder blade. Near the neck. That perfect form of entry. Soon GhostFace was kneeling before letting the body drop. Seeing her body limp and slam against the glass of the oven.
He tilts his head before taking a larger piece of glass, shoves it into her neck and moves her hand close to her chest. Staged suicide.
