Author's Note: Welcome. To this. I'd just like to apologize for starting so many stories and then seemingly forgetting about them, but trust me, it's for reason of lack of a muse. Nothing more.

Anyway, welcome to my Until Dawn fanfiction! I don't have a PS4, but I watch YouTubers like Cryaotic, Markiplier, and Tetra Ninja, and by god, I fell in love with this game. The story was immersive, the characters were amazing and had feeling (except Emily, she's a bitch). My top two favorite characters were Sam and Chris. Josh was up there, too. His death was unfair. So he might survive here, we'll see. On that note, Sam beating Chris just by a bit as my top fave, I thought the girl needed some love. I know there were hints of Sam/Josh, but clearly that wasn't going to pan out.

So I created this guy. So enjoy! I'm excited to see feedback, because this fandom is rapidly increasing in size and that excites me! So, please, let me know if I should continue!

Rating: This is going to be rated T for now, but the language is going to be very explicit because some of the dialogue comes right from the script. It may be elevated later.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Until Dawn or the game or story. All rights go to Supermassive Games. IF I owned this game...I dunno what I'd do, but it'd be great. I'd probs make my OC canon.

Prologue to the Prologue

The light was bright as it shined down on me. I was in a wheelchair, no movement in my right leg, just above the knee. The fluorescent lights hurt my eyes. My face throbbed where bruises and cuts littered the terrain of my skin. My entire being ached, from physical to mental alike.

The woman in front of me was in an official looking business, holding a writing pad with a pen ready.

"The stranger. The one with the flamethrower, you say? What was your initial impression of him?"

I winced at the loudness of her voice, but I shrugged it off. My voice shook slightly as I spoke. "He was terrifying at first. I mean, old man with a gun blowing fire…he-he scared all of us."

"Were your companions afraid of this man?"

"Y-yes, I assume so."

"Is it possible one of them killed him?"

"What?! No! He-he saved Chris's life. Chris told us he watched him die. You…you don't know Chris like we do…like I do. No. No, the stranger…he was killed by the other thing."

"Yes, describe these, um, what did you call them again? When-die-goes?"

"Wendigos."

"Yes, describe them."

"They…they crawl on all fours. They're lightning f-fast. Their skin i-is so pale, it's white, and-and stretched unnaturally tight all over their body. A-and their teeth are as sharp as steak knives w-with eyes, large, milky white eyes. Straight out of a horror movie. A nightmare come to life."

"And these beasts were located where?"

"Everywhere. The mine…the mental facility, Lodge, hotel…e-everywhere."

"Yes. These mines and this sanatorium you all discovered. Who found them?"

"Jess. Jess, she-she told us about the mine. Emily, too. We all were in the sanatorium together. Mike found the psycho lock up facility first. And-and we went through it…it was terrible. We were looking around for something…anything and…and…they got Josh before that…i-in the shed and…and…"

"Your friend, Josh. Tell me, were you aware of his condition?"

I shook my head, my voice ragged. "No one was. No one could have been. He-he…J-Josh was fine after the first month. I mean, he wasn't fine, but he seemed…he seemed…he s-seemed like he was coping. He got close to me and Sam…me, Sam, and April…and he just…he just seemed like, Josh, ya know?"

"You and Chris, you both hit Josh. Why?"

"Are you kidding? He was psychotic! He…he almost got to Sam! The fucker almost hurt Sam!"

"And what is your connection to Miss Samantha?"

"I…we're friends. Yes, friends."

"Just friends, Mr. Anthony?"

"Just friends," I said, grinding my teeth.

"Was Mr. Washington tied up when you assaulted him?"

"I did NOT assault him!" I yelled, my voice heavy with grief and anger as a tidal wave of emotions suddenly crashed inside of me. "HE WAS FUCKING WITH OUR MINDS. I don't care if the bastard was tied up or not. Chris'll tell you the same thing. It looks bad. But you don't understand. You can never understand."

"Easy, Mr. Anthony. I'd like you tell me what you remember."

"Remember?"

"About your experience on Blackwood Mountain."

"Listen. Listen closely. It doesn't matter what I remember. All you need to know is if people are allowed up there, people get hurt. Badly. Some die. People you've known for years, who you've called a friend for years, gone in a blink.

"But I know you. I know law enforcement and government. You'll send agents to investigate and then shut it down the moment it gets scary. It'll be another Area 51.

"But if you are stupid enough go up there, you must check everywhere. Mines, sanatorium, Lodge, the hotel, everywhere. Kill them all. All the Wendigos. Whether you believe any of us, that's up to you. But once you get up there, don't bother coming back until you've exterminated every last bastard. Because if you don't, not one of you is gonna get outta there alive"

"You're saying that these things are very dangerous then?"

"Do you see the condition I'm in? That my friends are in? Yes, they're dangerous! The mines. The sanatorium. Littered with them. B-but the mines. You have to go to the mines."

"What's in the mines, Mr. Anthony?"

"Wendigos. And proof."

"Proof of?"

"Proof that none of us are insane," I said simply.

"I would still like to hear your story, Mr. Anthony."

"My story?"

"Yes, your story. From the beginning."

I leaned back, suppressing a groan of pain as I did do. "You wanna hear my story, huh? Fine. I'll need a notebook or two and a few pens. Maybe a pencil. Some coffee."

"You wish to…write out your story, Mr. Anthony?"

"Trial and error. Can't miss a thing."

The woman paused. "Fine. You will have your supplies."

The woman left me alone in the room, promising she'd be back in a moment.

And so I waited. The silence was deafening. I was starting to get a migraine from the bright lights. The pain I felt all over my body was a sharp, yet dull throb.

What felt like hours later, the door slid open and the woman reentered, a notebook and a pen and pencil in her hands. She handed me the objects and I took them, uncapping the ballpoint pen. I opened the notebook and stared at the blank lines, then looked back up at the woman.

"If I could do this alone, please. And…and could you turn down the lights?"

The woman didn't respond but she left me alone, and a moment later the lights dimmed. I looked back at the paper. A year ago yesterday, Hannah and Beth had gone missing. And a yesterday, we found out what had happened. The woman wanted me to start from the beginning. So I would.