Kay looked around the room. Charity was beating the door down and Kay wasn't going to stand around a watch herself and freinds and family be slaughtered by a insane serial killer. She noticed that Mr. McClure's hand was gripped on something. Kay kneeled down and tried to pull it out of his hand, but his hand was stiff from death. Kay picked up a shard of broken glass and cut off his fingers. Perfect! Kay had thought she knew what was in Mr. McClure's hand and she was right. A gun. A loaded gun.
Charity beat at the door with bloody shovel, "Why won't you just open the door? It'll save us all alot of pain!" Charity grasped her stomach and then kept on with the shovel.
Kay picked up the bloody gun and aimed it at the door. She kept pulling the trigger until the gun was out of bullets. Miguel opened up the door and they saw Charity laying in a pile of her own blood. Miguel picked up Jessica and took Kay's hand and the three walked out of the room and to the exit.
Jessica leaned her head on Kay's shoulder, "Hurry, Miguel, we need to get Jessica to the hospital." Miguel nodded and pushed his foot on the gas pedal.
"You know, it's funny," Miguel said, "how we each almost died and yet here we all are, safe." Kay nodded and smiled at Miguel. Kay leaned her head against the window and looked up at the full moon shinning in the night sky.
Kay's mind wandered off into different things but were brought back to reality when an axe slammed into the dashboard. Kay pulled Jessica closer to her body as the car swerved around and haulted to a stop.
Charity raised the axe and brought down again. Miguel dodged the axe and then pushed on the gas, knocking Charity backwards. Charity stood back up and Miguel noticed a bridge right in front of them. He haulted the car to a screeching stop, sending Charity through the windsheild.
Miguel and Kay got out of the car and looked down into the water. Charity was floating face down. Miguel put his arm around and they started walking back to the car.
"Oh, wait a minute! That is just a bunch of crap you stole off of a bunch of B-horror movies," a young blonde woman sitting on the couch said.
"No! It's true! I swear!"
Half a dozen of teenagers are sitting on a couch, telling scary stories. In the group a pretty young woman, with shoulder width blonde hair is amongst them, she has what looks to be a a scar on her scalp, which is covered with hair.
The End