Karma Part 2
ghostface is your friend, and he loves playing games with you
A gloved hand grabbed your mouth at the same time an arm looped around your waist, yanking you up off the floor and backwards.
You shrieked into the attacker’s palm, your voice muffled; you’d just been shot at—shot at—barely thirty seconds before. Sam and Tara were crouched in a different isle of the small convenience store, and Ghostface…he was carrying a gun, and had barely missed you by an inch.
“Shut up.” A voice growled low into your ear, as you were tugged, helplessly, through the employees only door until it slammed shut. He dragged you for several more seconds before dropping you, watching as you jumped to your feet and stared, wide eyed, at a second Ghostface.
“I know Karate!” You lied, holding your hands up. “I will defend myself!”
“I just saved your ass.” The killer hissed, voice almost a whisper, and raised a finger to his mask, as if telling you to be quiet. Then he pointed to the back door of the room—an emergency exit.
“What?” You whispered back, nearly jumping out of your skin when you heard another gunshot. “I cant just leave the others they—”
Ghostface moved towards you so fast you almost fell over in your haste to get away, but it was no use. He took your arm and dragged you towards the exit, grip bruising as he shoved it open. The alarm practically split your teeth open and you cringed, watching as he jabbed his finger over and over at the outside ally.
“I cant.” You insisted, eyes still wide, heart hammering as you looked at the killer. You knew—obviously you knew—that this was the one that had spared you. Had taken you to the hospital. You still weren’t sure how you felt about that.
“They left you.” The killer snarled, and shoved you out the door, slamming it shut behind you.
You just stood there, breathing heavily in the night air outside, and made up your mind. You turned and ran, eager to get to your apartment as fast as you could.
Tara called you an hour later, after you’d showered and attempted to calm yourself, sitting alone on the couch in your living-room. You picked up the phone and, with shaking fingers, answered.
“Y/N, where the fuck are you?” Her tone was both accusatory and worried, and guilt you didn’t want to feel slammed through you.
“I found an emergency exit,” you said, gritting your teeth against the lie. “he almost shot me. I’m sorry, I panicked.”
“No that’s—that’s fine. Sam and I are both fine, by the way.”
“Okay. Good.” You ran a hand over your face and sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. “Hey Tara?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think there might be…more than one?”
The line went silent for a moment. Then she spoke.
“There always is.” She told you, and then you heard the clicking noise that said she’d hung up.
You stared down at your phone for a moment, feeling a bit sick. Your apartment felt creepy when you were alone, the darkness creeping around every corner. So you stood, moving to your kitchen, and did what you always did when you were stressed: you baked.
You’d bring the cookies to school tomorrow and hopefully everything could feel normal for at least an hour or so.
So you began, googling a recipe and mixing your ingredients, your oven a warm presence behind you. Just as you’d gotten the first batch in the oven, the rest of the dough still in the mixing bowl, your phone rang again. You answered on autopilot, licking a bit of chocolate off the tip of your finger.
“Yeah?” You asked, propping the phone against your shoulder and holding it there as you rinsed your hands free of sugar, then toweled them off.
“Hello, Y/N.”
You dropped your phone, yelping when it landed on your bare toes, and then quickly snatched it up. Heart racing, giving your apartment a quick glance for any signs of another presence, you slowly lifted to phone back to your ear.
“Is this the gun one or the other one?” You asked, voice quavering a bit as you searched around for a possible weapon.
“I’m offended, Y/N.” Ghostface sighed, just as you found a knife. “I thought we were friends by now.”
“We aren’t friends.” You scoffed, stepping around your kitchen island to do a sweep around your livingroom, then ducking your head into your bathroom. You flipped all the lights on you could, still looking, heart hammering against your ribcage. “And you’re confusing. Stop playing with my head and just kill me if you’re gonna kill me.”
“For someone who doesn’t want to die you sure ask for it a lot.”
“I know my odds.” Your voice felt small as you approached your closet, knife outstretched in front of you as you moved towards it. “I’d rather be realistic.”
“A nihilist. I like it.” He chuckled, and that dark laugh shot goosebumps across your skin. “But I don’t break my promises, Y/N. I’m not going to hurt you. Not too much.”
“Bastard.” You grumbled, flinging open your closet doors. There was no one. “Are you even—”
“You shouldn’t talk to your friends that way.” Ghostface said, but it wasn’t through the phone.
You screamed when an arm crushed around you, forcing you to drop the knife in your hand. He pulled you away from the closet, towards the living-room, even as you thrashed in his grip. But then he was letting you go, pointing a threatening finger in your direction.
“No knives.” He said, shaking his head as if in disappointment. “You’re smarter than that.”
“Get out of my apartment.” You spat, backing away towards the kitchen. “Get out or I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Kill me?” He tilted his head, walking around the opposite side of the island and towards you. You stilled as he neared, your hands itching with the urge to go for the nearest weapon, but then stiffened when he pointed to the oven. “Gonna get those?”
You nearly screamed when your kitchen alarm went off, slamming a hand against your chest as you jolted. Ghostface shrugged, as if in nonchalance, as he reached for an oven mitt.
“What the hell are you—give me that.” You scoffed, moving towards him to yank the glove out of his grip. You shooed him away, giving him a lethal stare, before removing the cookies from the oven. There was no way—no way in Hell that you were doing domestic activities with a serial killer. You’d lost your mind. Lost it.
You felt his presence like a knife poised to strike behind your back, watching you as you set the cookies down on the stove and inspected them. When you were done, you turned, unsurprised to see him hardly a foot away from you. He tilted his head, that creepy, pale mask looking down, before he moved a step closer.
You froze.
“Relax, Y/N.” He purred, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering. The material of the glove felt wrong against your skin. “I only wanted to visit my…newest friend.”
“You’re sick, you know that?” You said, pushing his chest away when he moved even closer. He only leaned into your touch, your arm bending involuntarily as that mask, that freaky ass mask, stared back. “You kill people. Innocent people.”
“They weren’t innocent.” He snarled, and turned you, grabbing your waist and shoving you against the opposite counter. You let out a cry and tried to scramble away, but he held you fast. “Stay away from them.” He said; the killer seemed to be breathing as hard as you. “Or you’re going to get caught up in their shit.”
“They’re my friends—”
“I’m your friend.” This time, you only stared as he moved away, glancing quickly around your kitchen before he moved towards the stovetop, picking up a cookie off the pan. You gaped. “Take my advice. Or don’t.” He said, then left, practically vanishing out your front door, leaving you without hardly any breath, heart still pounding, alone.
-
You couldn’t get there fast enough.
You searched and searched, scanning your usual study rooms, then the library. Then you checked outside and relief hit you like a shot, your feet carrying you swiftly over to where Ethan, Chad, Mindy, and Tara sat. Ethan looked up first, a smile growing onto his face as you approached, already rising from his seat.
You threw yourself into his arms so fast you almost knocked him over, a choking sound leaving your mouth as every ounce of terror and confusion you’d been feeling since last night slammed into you again.
“Hey—hey—” Ethan’s voice was stunned, but he still held you, arms warm against your back. “What is it? Y/N, what—”
“He was in my house.” You cried, shoulders heaving, even as Chad and the others moved over to you, already asking a flurry of questions. Ethan waved them off with a hand, trying to give you some space.
“Who was?” He asked, and you almost snorted. “Ghostface?”
“Who else?” You sucked in a shaking breath, pulling back half an inch to wipe the wetness off of your face. “He said he—was my friend. And that he wasn’t going to hurt me too much, whatever that means, and then he—”
“Are you hurt?” He demanded, pulling back to give you a once-over, but you laughed. This seemed to surprise him. “What’s so—”
“He stole a cookie.” You told him, hysteria almost rising as you reached into your tote bag and pulled out the container. You shoved them at Ethan, still feeling slightly crazed. “A cookie.”
“Maybe he’s into sweets.” Ethan’s worried expression had relaxed into one of amusement, his white teeth flashing in a grin as he took the box out of your hand. He opened the lid and looked in, nodding appreciatively. “Double chocolate. I like it.”
“Oh hush you’re—” but a laugh escaped you, watching him take a comically large bite, rolling his eyes back into his head, and the others seemed to take your change in attitude to be a sign they could approach.
They asked you about a hundred questions but finally took cookies of their own, slumping back down onto the seats of the table they’d been at before. Mindy was watching you, a confused, almost worried look on her face, but quickly showed you an aggressively raised eyebrow when she caught you looking.
You jumped a little when Ethan took you hand, tilting his head in the opposite direction, towards the parking lot.
“Wanna skip?” He asked, giving you that boyish grin again. “If we’ve got a killer on the loose, I don’t feel like going to Math.”
You smiled hesitantly and gripped his hand in your own, a thrill running through you at the fact that he was touching you so casually.
“You’re the worst study partner I’ve ever had.” You lied, as you pulled him towards the parking lot, and he laughed.
-
Later, after lunch with Ethan and a day trip to the aquarium, you sat together on your couch, you curled up next to him as you watched the newest Spiderman movie. Ethan had occasionally commented, sometimes complaining about a detail that wasn’t comic accurate, sometimes an excited statement about some action scene.
During the aquarium visit you’d walked through the dark halls, your hands brushing against each other’s occasionally as you peered at the tiny fish, the sharks, and the turtles. Ethan hooked his pinkie around your own, sending a jolt of what felt like electricity through your system, and, after a beat, you’d slipped your hand fully into his.
Now, as the credits began to roll on the movie, you yawned, turning and pressing your cheek against his chest. He was running a hand idly down your back, his head resting on your own. He gave you a sudden shake and sat up a bit further, turning to look at you.
“Want me to stay?” He asked, tilting his head, and you glanced up. “In case he..comes back?”
You chewed your bottom lip and glanced towards the front door. It would be nice to have backup. Especially attractive backup.
“I‘ll sleep on the couch.” He offered, raising his brows, and you were surprised by how fast you said no.
“It’s safer if we’re together.” You told him, ignoring the blush rising onto your face.
You were surprised to see him turning slightly red as well; you’d known him for a while now, had spent multiple days a week popping into each other’s apartments—hell, he’d slept in your hospital bed with you. He’d been shy at first, almost awkward, but he’d grown comfortable with you. Confident even, sometimes even cocky when he joked around with you. But now his face was flushed, his brown eyes warm as he looked down at you.
“I suppose that’s a smart point.” He mused, a lazy grin that made your heart drop into your stomach pulling onto his face.
And you couldn’t help it. You reached for him, tugging his face down to your own, and pressed your mouth to his. He leaned into you eagerly, his heart racing as fast as your own, as he tugged up, pulling you into his lap. You settled around him and kissed him hard, your fingers slipping into his dark hair.
“So did you—” he gasped against your mouth. “like the movie?”
You laughed and tugged on a piece of his hair, making him grin. He wrapped his arms around your back as you held his face in your hands, brushing your tongue lightly into his mouth. At the feel of you he whined softly, making you jolt away.
“Excuse me?” You asked, raising a brow as he flushed. “None of that. It makes me feel things.”
“What kinds of things?” He teased, but he was clearly embarrassed, so you pretended to think, even as you scooted farther into his lap and pressed fully against him.
“Things you aren’t allowed to do in horror movies if you want to live.”
Ethan rolled his eyes and tugged you into him, his mouth claiming your own. This time it was his tongue, his fingers gripping you, that made you sigh.
-
When you woke, an arm thrown over your head and the other tucked against your chest, you felt the growing familiarity of the body pressed against you in bed. You let out a moaning noise as you stretched, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep, but you felt Ethan’s arm tighten around your waist.
“What did we say…” he mumbled, voice low and sleepy. “about those types of noises?”
You giggled sleepily and wiggled a little, allowing him to tug you closer under the covers. Your eyes slid shut as his mouth began placing slow, lazy kisses on the back and side of your neck, murmuring tiny compliments onto your skin.
“I like you.” He said, voice still quiet. “A lot.”
You smiled and snuggled closer, impossibly close, tangling one of your legs with his own.
“I like you too, E.”
hellooooo continue commenting for part three!
