(fjsdfksd -falls over- This took forever, thanks to college. But AAAAA, always so fun to write. Thanks to all my readers. ^w^ Enjooooy! And happy early Hallow's Eve~)


Meg had always hated horror movies. Not because she feared them, no. It was because that she was always finding herself glaring at the stupid women or main characters that ran up the stairs, hide in tight, inescapable spaces, or just couldn't move. They were idiots!

She never understood what possessed them to do stupid things. She had seen the old, cliché movies. Why would you run into the woods? Why would you take a shortcut through the alleyway? Why would you not turn on the lights, or run away from something that seemed like it could poke your intestines out?

Meg was now in that predicament, sprinting at full speed to god knows where. Her back was coated in a thin layer of sweat which had blossomed within the second she had seen him and now it had grown up to the back of her neck. Dirt flew past her heels as she bolted through the woods, flicking the soles of her feet through the mounds of dirt and grass as fast as she could.

If Meg had been in track right then, she would've scolded herself for not going around this tree fast enough, or stopping herself at this right time to evade the roots and tires.

Keyword: If

Meg was not in track and even if she wanted to pretend she was, she wasn't. Not at all. The grass was too thick, the obstacles too random. If she didn't have any shoes on, the blond was sure that she would sink her soles into rusted nails, or into awaiting thorn fingers. She didn't need either one.

She didn't look back. Why would she? It would only slow her down and get her into further trouble. His footsteps, heavy, like a large dogs, was enough for her to bend her torso down.

Thoughts of horror and cruelty flitted through her imagination as her heartbeat thudded in anticipation and screamed into her soul. Where could she go? What could she do?

Meg suddenly turned, hoping to throw him off as she leaped over a small ledge, feeling the grey paint fall beneath her fingers. For some reason, her mind clung to that as she casted a glance just over her shoulder. Betraying her thoughts, she did this as discreetly as possible, allowing her to see him slowly making his way through the way she did.

He's slow. Maybe if I can do that a couple times and duck somewhere, I can get out of view!

It was an excellent idea, so she thought, and watched him for a bit longer before feeling her feet fumble. With a flail of her arms and legs, the woman found herself face-flat on the ground, the sides of her legs and elbows suffering from her damned fall. Dirt crumbling into her saliva, Meg knew she would regret this and her stupid, horror cliché decision for a long, long time.

Spitting out the soil, the woman wasted no time in getting back up and full-blown legging it again, uncaring of the dirt under her nails or the new grass stains on her pants.

Feeling the grit of the dirt slide between her teeth like chunky, old milk, the woman spat to the side once more and then launched herself over a rock, feeling the edges claw at her calf. Her actions were now a blur to her as her body pumped adrenaline through her veins and into her sore muscles. She didn't know how much she had in her, but it was something.

Eyeing the house from before, with the rumbling generator at the top, Meg pushed herself harder. Spinning on her heels, she whipped her hands out and slammed the wooden pallet down so hard she wondered if she had nearly broke it by herself. As she stood in the doorway for only a second, she could see him still pursuing her, the blade in his hand winking at her. It's your turn, it said.

"Like hell it will be!" she hissed and spun, taking the downstairs path she had seen before. It was better than sprinting up the steps and then managing to leap into the arms of her tracker.

The woman lunged down the stairs so fast, she nearly managed to fumble and smack into the wall. With hands stinging, the athlete dived down the next set and was rewarded with a sight. One that made her stomach churn and her feet to go cold as chains swung. With her breath being the only thing accompanying her, she watched the blood-stained hooks shiver from the footsteps above. The footsteps that were tearing down the wooden pallet that she had just pulled down.

Feeling sweat accumulating on her upper lip, Meg calculated the danger that she had just put herself in by running into a dead-end room. A room full of hooks, lockers, and no doors except up, and going up didn't sound like a good idea as the thudding of his soles were coming down. Now frantic, Meg tore off to hide as quickly as possible in the closet near the back and sidled up against the stairs.

With a squeak of the hinges, which made her cringe, she shut the door behind her as quietly and as quickly as she could manage before ducking down into the locker. This was the last place she wanted to go, the last place she wanted to be cornered it, but here she was with sweat clinging to her body like a jock after summer P.E while a killer, of all people, was attempting to slice her in two. Or whatever.

And who built these fucking lockers? Meg thought bitterly, eyeing the wide slits in the top that beaconed light into the locker like a yellow warning from the flickering lightbulb. Standing up from her crouch, the woman took a solid second to quickly survey the area and then duck down, as though she had gotten singed by a heat source.

In front of her was a locker and a small corner where she could do a round-about and hide from the killer. Biting her thumbnail, she began to think through the sweat, her heavy heart, and her shivering body. His boots echoed her inner fear as it grasped her stomach with a freezing grip. She could hear him checking the two lockers at the foot of the stairs and it sounded as though he was trying to rip them off the hinges. The doors squealed open and then slammed shut, proving that he wasn't happy about her not being in there.

Something told her that he knew where to look.

Meg crossed her fingers tightly and closed her eyes, breathing becoming stale and heavier in fear. Oh please don't check this locker, oh please, oh please, oh please!

Listening to his footsteps on the dirt floor, she let her eyes open for a moment and forced herself to slowly stand, shifting her weight as silently as possible, but she didn't dare raise her eyes to the beaten, metal bars of the locker.

What made her finally look was the footsteps took a slight directional turn and she had a hunch where. Meg's blue eyes darted towards the lit spot, and could see the hulking form of the beast. He was heading towards the other closet, just in front of her. This forced her to move fast, but her thought had worked at a 50% chance.

With quivering hands, the woman quickly opened the locker just as he did the other, closed it and then sprinted towards the corner on the tips of her toes. There was a dividing wall between the locker, and then hers, giving her a small corner to duck into. If he was going to check the closet she had just been in, then she could slip around the dividing wall as he did so and duck down on the other side he had already looked around.

Just don't see me in the corner, you fuck.

Seeing him pass by so close this time caused her heart to freeze in her throat, but better her heart than her feet, because she needed those. Technically, she needed both, but the heart-freezing isn't literal. One would hope.

Watching him approach the locker, Meg used the front of her feet to tip toe fast around the corner and took no time in dropping down in the corner, pressing herself tightly up against the wood. Doors squealed on rusted hinges and then slammed shut, much more fiercely than before.

Now, Meg waited with her heart slamming into whatever was left in her eardrums. Gritting her teeth and tasting the soil from earlier, she didn't dare watch him. As per usual, she listened to his footsteps and her heartbeat, waiting for him to go up the stairs.

Slowly, the footsteps traveled up the wooden floorboards, creaking all the way and echoing into her brain. Meg gradually slid down the wooden divider, finally gasping for breath as she had been holding it for so long, and had to after running a solid stretch.

He was gone, and she could finally get some wind back in her body. Meg, however, was quick to curse in her mind as she rubbed her trembling hands together, wondering if she had managed to break a finger or two on the way down, despite how she didn't break her ankles on the second story jump with Dwight. At that thought, she wondered where they had gone, Claudette and Dwight. For several seconds, she really hated them, as they had left her behind like a pig for the slaughter. Left her alone like it was all good fun.

Another shiver passed through her as she thought again, and realized that the only reason she got away was due to her athletic skills. If either Claudette or Dwight had gotten snagged, they wouldn't have been able to make it. Despite the murderer's size, he had a stride that almost matched her running speed.

Heaving in a breath and hauling herself up, Meg moved to take a sprint up towards the stairs. She had heard him move out, so now was her chance to sprint, and sprint far. Hauling in several, more deep breaths, the blond darted towards and up the stairs smoothly, remaining correct in her auditory check.

As soon as she got to the top of the basement steps, she stooped down into a crouch and quickly maneuvered her way towards the upper floor, being as quiet as possible. Even if he had left the basement, that didn't mean he had left the surrounding area. She needed to think of where to go. The generators were a must, no doubt, but where to check for a couple?

A light burned brightly just in her vision as she stared out the first window, causing her attention to veer completely to that area.

"A generator?" With her mouth as dry as cotton, she felt her words become more of a raspy garble than actual speech. Once those words left her mouth, she could then spot two figures darting away from the glowing sector.

For a solid second, Meg heard the heartbeat in her ears, thrumming loud like a metronome. Clutching a hand over her heart, she watched the hulking figure march through the foggy land, determination covering every inch of his being. He wanted to kill. This much Meg could get off of his body language, and it gave her massive goosebumps.

Crouching low, she made her way out of the light, hoping to simply sit up on the second floor and relax with her semi over-the-top view. She could see relatively far from here, even with the mist. Claudette and Dwight were sprinting off towards another generator, keeping themselves as low as possible to not attract the beast.

"Good plan," Meg muttered, wondering if she could find the generator they had been on before she had screwed up. Clicking her tongue softly against her top teeth, Meg moved to poke her head out of the closest window, eyeing the direction she figured she had come from only five minutes ago. In the distance, she could see the old generator softly puttering, showing that it had some work put into it, but not enough to kick start it into gear.

Now how to get there.

Blue eyes narrowing, the athlete followed a discrete pathway with her eyes, making small landmarks in her head as she went until her range of view caught a faint glare of red. Shivers crawled up her spine as she snapped her head in that direction. A red glow was emanating from between the limbs of trees. What was that?

Making note of it, the woman figured she'd visit there sooner or later as the generator wasn't too far from it. Licking her chapped lips, Meg moved to survey the area, just in case he could see her, before falling from the top floor. Using her muscles, she quickly made sure she was upright as she landed on her foot, soon rolling just to make sure she didn't break any foot bones. Or her ankles.

Rolling into the grass was easy as she used her shoulder to take the majority of the impact, ducking her chin into her chest to avoid breaking her skull or spine. With her fingers still aching and her nerves on edge, Meg rolled herself into an elegant crouch and moved along through the shrubs, keeping herself low. The generator wasn't too far off, softly purring despite its rusty engines.

Keeping her ears open, the blond tended quietly to the engine. Wires were bundled up like horrible tangles in thick hair, to the point it was almost impossible to see the wires that actually needed repair. Pipes were freely turned almost all the way around, twisting the valves and causing more pressure than needed.

She got to work, uncaring of the grease and oil that was smearing over her skin. Getting dirty was something she was used to in order to win. This time it was to survive.

Resuming her work, Meg tugged at old cords and twisted pipes around to fit back in place. The grease that dripped around haphazardly was warm but eventually fixed itself as it slowly melded back into the machine. Meg could feel it getting hotter than more she repaired it as the wires started to spark dangerously and the machine began to make more noise, proving her progress. With her heart in her throat, she constantly looked around and over her shoulders, bracing for the sudden catch in her heartrate that signaled the killer. Meg didn't know how much time she had, but it was probably running out the longer she stayed in this damned place.

Ba-thump.

Oh no.

Ba-thump.

"Oh fuck me," she hissed, glancing around the foggy area as her heart began to beat against her ribcage. Wiping her hands along the cold grass, Meg darted upward and ducked down low behind the nearest tree. The bark was a welcome embrace on her body as the support was certainly firm against her tired body. Leaning against the bark as calmly as possible, her backside nestled into the roots, Meg felt her heart speed up and increase to heavy thumps in her ears.

The growl that echoed just from the other side of the tree caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise. A breathless and silent gasp slipped past her lips as she realized how close he was.

Heavy breathes were audible from the armed man, informing Meg that he was sniffing the air for her. Slowly, Meg put her hands against the rough bark, feeling the little crooks and cracks as she braced herself to run. Listening to his footsteps added anxiety, but taking in a deep breath through her nose, she decided to take a peek around the tree.

Graciously, his back was to her, but her gut went cold as he felt the oil on the ground. It was still warm, still not as sticky as congealed oil drops. He knew she was around.

As he stood up, Meg whipped back around to try and melt into the tree, her eyes closing tightly as she prayed he would just fuck off and not see her. You already saw me once before; you piece of shit. Now piss off.

But then again, she wasn't sure how fast Dwight and Claudette could run. Meg knew she was able to vault through broken windows and dart behind walls, but were they? The thought made her drive her nails into the tree bark as she heard his footsteps through the grass.

Her nails drove in even deeper as she watched his form walk right from around her left side, his shadow smothering her own body for a second, but it was a second too long for Meg's poor heart. It was racing a mile a minute, pounding into her ears. She watched him slowly walk in front of her, that same damn weapon glittering in the milky lighting.

Despite her better judgement, Meg closed her eyes tightly as goosebumps gathered on her skin.

Please go away, please go away, please go away, please go away, goddamnit!

What scared her was her fast-paced heartbeat continuing loudly in her chest, but he was completely silent. His shadow didn't move either, telling her that he was aware of her presence.

Slowly, Meg opened her eyes…

And regretted her decision immediately.

With that grinning face looming right in front of her, Meg lost all thought as fear built up in her toes, all the way up to the top of her head. He was just…there. He was just watching her, eyeing her. With her voice frozen in her throat, Meg didn't talk. She doubted she could even scream.

A thick hand came up to her face slowly, causing her to flinch and have the back of her head collide into the bark. Biting her bottom lip to avoid making any noise, she then turned her head away from him, wanting to maneuver away from his fingers. Meg was dying to feel her legs and she began to curl her toes and twitch her ankles to get ready.

Leathery, callused fingertips graced her open neck and jawline, causing her heart to fully skip a beat. A nasty shudder swept through her as she wondered if she'd be a victim of more than just murder.

Here, Meg swallowed her fear and turned to look at him with a glare, ready to bite at his fingers. His palm opened in less than a second and pushed firmly into her face, causing Meg's head to snap back temporarily against the tree again. Now she found her voice as pain flowed up hotly through her frozen veins.

His grip was like iron, completely swallowing up any attempts that she tried to scream or cry out whilst her hands tore away from the tree bark and dug into his wrist. He wouldn't let go, even when he started to drag her across the ground.

I'm going to die, oh fuck, I know I thought of this before, but I'm going to die, I swear...!

A sound caught her ears in her panic, causing her to stop for a solid second and listen. The rumble of the nearby generator hummed in her ears and in seconds she realized that someone just started the generator she had just been on.

Someone just watched her get taken away.

Anger filled her body and she used it to furthermore kick and scream into the brute's iron hand. He wouldn't let go for anything and instead furthermore drove his fingers into the sides of her head. Meg lessened on her struggle, but that didn't mean she'd not fight to get his hand off her face.

Without warning, she felt her body weight shift. It took him less than ten seconds to throw her up onto his shoulder and even less time to push her off again. As Meg questioned why he was just tossing her off, she understood. She remembered this location in the blink of an eye and started screaming before the pain even hit her.

Ear-piercing to herself, a scream ripped itself from her throat as pain sharply dug through her shoulder and nicked her collarbone. It was so painful that it was all she could think about as tears naturally formed in her eyes. Even if she tried to force it all back, it wouldn't have mattered.

As she blinked through her tears and forced herself to not see red, she watched the bastard walk away, clearly pleased with himself. At least, that is what she figured he would be.

Gasping for air, Meg immediately groped around to try and take the heavy, ripping weight off of her left shoulder, heaving in oxygen to try and steady herself. Gritting her teeth, she wondered if she just nearly fainted as her head spun. The meat hook was digging perfectly through her body, puncturing all the muscle and nerves it wanted. Somehow, the killer managed to miss the bone, but had he done this enough times that he knew what he wanted?

Slowly, Meg watched the rest of the foggy area, tears still streaming down her face from the gorge of pain that swept through her. No one was around. Meg was completely alone and a sense of despair swept over her, almost overtaking the pain in her shoulder for a moment. With her feet completely off the ground, she was probably going to be immobile all the way until she starved to death, or maybe was granted freedom with a stab to her chest.

Ever so slightly, Meg raised her arm, wondering if she could get off the damned hook and get the fuck out. Instead, she was greeted with pain and cringe heavily. It hurt too damn much for her to just wiggle around on this thing, much less getting off of it.

A quick, surprising sob swept over her throat. The athlete cringed, putting her free hand up to her mouth to stop anything else to squeeze itself out. No. She wouldn't look weak until the end. Not until the end, or maybe she could stay strong through the end. Just…maybe…

Meg closed her eyes for a moment, gulping in less air now as she thought about her mother and her school. Even briefly on how cute Dwight was or how much she could've made if she finally had time to herself for a job. Or even college.

"Psst."

If Meg hadn't been on a meat hook, she was pretty sure she could've leaped into the air. Her eyes snapped open and she looked around, wondering if the killer had come back or if someone was actually there to save her. Or be a sadistic bastard and watch her suffer. Forcing her head to look past her injured shoulder, she could see a masculine face sticking out from the shrubs.

Before she could say anything, he began to creep up to her, keeping himself low. "I'm going to get you off. Don't freak out, okay?" Meg blinked several times then nodded, understanding that getting off the hook was going to hurt like hell.

"What…do you want in return?" Meg, in return for her question, got a confused look as he stood just only a few feet in front of her.

"I want you to keep quiet and follow me. Don't waste time, don't screw up, and I'll let you stay with me." Meg blinked slowly once again and then braced for pain as he stretched his hands up to hold her and slip her off. She could hear him murmuring under his breath, "quick and easy, quick and easy."

He held her firmly by the hips before he quickly pulled her up and attempted to bring her down. Meg bit back a scream of pain as she felt the meat hook making a nasty sucking sound as it was drawn away from her skin. With her knees weak and her shoulder screaming in pain just as much as she was in her head. A firm arm wrapped her waist, propping her up against the form of the male.

Calmly, he helped escort her away from the area, easily capable of probably lifting her if he needed to. Meg tried not to gasp as she dug her nails into her right forearm, wanting to take the pain away from her bleeding shoulder.

"…Thank you." A croak of words sounded from her, and she quickly cringed. In response, two fingers simply tapped on her hip, telling her mutely that everything was okay. Meg didn't know if she could even trust this guy, but he was certainly causing her to relax.

"Listen." Meg looked up towards the male, eyeing his dark hair and matching eyes. He continued to speak. "Those two are working on the last generator. The door that will open with the power is close by. I got a generator earlier, so they've been working on the last. We're going to open the door and then get out of here. Do you understand me?"

For a moment, she felt as though he was lecturing her like a child. Resisting the urge to just punch him in the crotch, Meg simply nodded. "I don't think I—"

"Shh."

This bastard.

Glaring at him, she then turned her blue eyes forward and was quick to recognize the red glare of the dot from before, the working generator in the same location as before and glowing brightly.

Wait…did this guy watch her get taken and then decided to risk his skin to rescue her?

At this thought, a howl sudden filled the air. It wasn't a lonely howl, or a howl for the hunt. It was a howl of progress and succession. As she looked for the source, the male suddenly pulled her along towards the glowing dot. Nearly tripping in the process, Meg was glad she caught herself, or she would have probably faceplanted into the ground.

A large, grey door was sitting in the brick wall that surrounded this forest. This hellhole. He let go of her to race for the door, immediately grabbing at the rusted handle and tugging it down fiercely. As this happened, they heard the clinking of the door attempting to open and for a moment, Meg felt more on alert than ever before.

Meg slowly looked around, moving closer to the door to avoid herself being suddenly snatched up. Two familiar faces sprinted towards her and the mysterious male. As soon as she saw them, she heard the door open right behind her.

"Meg, you're okay!" Dwight smiled nervously, looking her over once and then cringing immediately. Obviously, she didn't look or feel okay, but she guessed that being okay meant "alive" now-a-days.

Ba-thump.

Without another word, they all turned and sprinted through the open door with Claudette following the new face and Dwight right beside Meg, holding her hand in case she fell. Keeping her fingers knitted within his, she watched them all dart away from the place.

Curiously, Meg glanced over her shoulder and caught the sight of the masculine beast standing right there. He didn't even chase them. Instead, seeing Meg's gaze, he put up his hand and waved.

It took Meg no time to speed up to the front of the group, dragging Dwight with her as they raced for freedom.

"We were lucky to find you, Jake."

Said man looked up, glancing over Claudette for a moment before shrugging. "I guess. I live out around these woods, so it's natural for me to pack food."

As they sat around the crudely made campfire, eating various plant-life and some hunted foul, Claudette tended to the open shoulder of Meg who found it hard to keep chewing.

Dwight sighed, breaking silence after a little while. "It's not over, is it?"

Claudette blinked, looking up. "W…What do you mean? We escaped, right?"

Even Meg understood, wiping a thumb along her lower lip to wipe any saliva away. "This doesn't feel like we made it. It feels like a save point in a video game, but…"

"O-Oh…" The blogger twiddled her thumbs for a moment before finally stitching up Meg's shoulder properly. "I…I guess you're right."

Meg looked up, frowning heavily. "What do we do? Sit around forever like sitting ducks?"

Jake shook his head, sitting down properly to cook another skinned animal again. "No. We're going to continue. We're going to continue on and fight for our lives. We're no longer home. We're… This is different."

The group fell silent, all of them staring at the fire before falling asleep one by one.

This was only the beginning of a personal level in Hell.

The Entity will have you.

You are His.

Forever.