It seemed like a funny quirk, Chloe's thing for serial killers. Just one of the things that made Chloe, Chloe. It seems morbid now, considering what happened. But things were innocent before, all in good fun. I know better now. We all do.

I thought it was nothing but a point of bland interest, the fact that there was going to be a wedding on Harper's Island. A happy occasion, when seven years ago, John Wakefield massacred six people. I had actually never given him much thought, beyond Chloe's musings. I didn't really think he was a real person. That is, until I met him.

First off, it scared me, the moment when the power went off. I had never liked the dark very much. I guess that's when I knew something bad was going to happen. Just, not to me, I thought.

We had to go as a group to investigate. Because groups are safe, right? That's what horror movies say. Don't go off alone, or you're a goner. You might as well gift wrap yourself for the psycho. Which is why I thought I'd be safe, of course. I thought I wouldn't have to watch my back. Because people are always safe in groups, right? Wrong.


It happened so fast. One minute I was there, the next, I was gone. My first impulse when the cold hand clamped over my mouth was to scream. To bite, kick, fight. But then something cold and steely pressed into my side and a hoarse voice told me to 'keep still and shut up' and then, 'follow me'.

My hands were tied behind my back, a gag shoved into my mouth. I followed blindly behind my kidnapper into a dark tunnel. The tunnels, I thought. And, suddenly, I knew what was going to happen. Wherever we were going, I was being lead there to die.

I didn't want to die. Nobody wants to die. I thought maybe I could escape. It was worth a try, if I was dead anyway. So, silently, I balled my hands into fists and lifted them. I stepped a little closer and swung my fists as hard as I could into his Adam's Apple. He coughed, cursed, and dropped the boarding knife he was carrying. I picked it up and ran.

I tried to slice through the bonds as I ran, which is as hard s it sounds. I managed to sever the rope, but the knife slipped and sliced into my palm. I bit my lip, hard, to keep from crying out. My hand bled quickly, but I pressed it against my shirt and kept running.

The knife fell to the ground, forgotten as I ran. I could hear heavy footsteps behind me, and I noticed a tiny air vent near the ground on my left. It looked big enough to accommodate me, and hopefully he wouldn't notice it.

I squeezed into the tunnel, my bloody hand slipping as I tried to scramble forwards. The footsteps disappear, and then I hear a shuffling behind me. No, no , no , no. Please. Don't let it be him. I dig my nails into the tunnel walls and pull myself forward again. I stretch one arm forward, and look up ahead-

-as something stabs into my hip. I scream and kick out. My foot connects with something, and I hear a grunt. I pull myself forward and feel a white hot flash of pain in my legs.

"No," I cry, tears coursing down my cheeks. "Please-" I'm cut off by another stabbing pain, and a warm wetness bubbling up in my throat. Everything below my waist is white-hot pain- a mad hacking and slashing. I start to scream wordlessly unable to do anything else. Please, no. Don't hurt me, make it stop please. I don't wanna die here, alone. I can't feel my legs, haven't you hurt me enough? Let me go. I don't realize I'm screaming this, don't even know what's going on anymore.

And John Wakefield lets me go.

He disappears in the tunnel, and I'm alone. So I try to haul myself forward again. I see a split up ahead. I can hide there…but I'm so tired. It's…hard to move. And everything is…fuzzy. Dar. I can sleep here, right? John Wakefield's gone…it should be safe.

"Safe," I murmur, my head falling down onto my outstretched arm.

Needless to say, it's one nap I don't wake up from.