Prologue:
Crimson red. The color of the devil; the color of blood. The bright red trail of blood traveled from the shattered mirror on the wall to the slacked hand of the broken man leaning against the bathroom sink. The sound of deep breathing and silent tears are all that could be heard coming from the room. To many, this scene would be alarming. However, to this man, who has dedicated many years to a life of complete isolation, this was hardly far from the ordinary. With a heavy sigh, the heavily scarred man rose from his position on the hard marble floor and retreated to his chamber as he's always done in the past. His hand still unattended to, leaving a pitiful trail of red as he went.
For about 10 years now, the old theatre at the end of Elm street remained abandoned and curious. People of the city knew not to disturb it for rumor has it, no one comes out of the theatre alive. The beast, the ghost from within the old theatre was said to be merciless. Killing whatever and whoever it got its hands on. The reason? No one knows. And what exactly resides in the theatre? No one knows either. But one thing is certain. No sane human being in the entire town dares to enter the building premises. But maybe that was just it. Maybe she wasn't sane. And maybe that was what made her special.