Three Years Ago,
Blackwood Mountain 2:23 AM
KIDA
Time seemed to slow as she released her hold, her fingers letting go of the ledge. The last thing she saw was Matt's face, etched with heartbreak and terror, as she began to fall. Her body plunged into the darkness, the air rushing past her, and in those moments, she thought of everything.
Falling.
Kida's mind spun as she plummeted into the abyss, the cold air biting against her skin. The world around her was a blur, the rocks and walls of the mines rushing past in flashes. Is this how it ends? she wondered. Am I going to die?
Her thoughts scattered. Her family, their faces flickering in her mind like distant memories. Would they ever know what happened to her? Would they ever understand what she went through? Her friends, she wondered if they're surviving from the psycho.
And then there was Matt. The regret hit her like a punch to the gut. A whole year of silence, of avoiding him, holding onto her resentment. She had pushed him away, angry and hurt, when all he had done was try to love her. They had wasted so much time, and now, in these last moments, she wished she could go back. Say everything she hadn't said. Show him she wasn't angry anymore, that she had moved past it. That she still loved him.
I should have told him sooner.
Her thoughts were a whirlwind of fear, guilt, and regret. But beneath it all, she felt a flicker of peace. She had saved him. Matt was alive, and that meant something. If this was how it ended for her, at least she had done something good. Something right. After all he saved her from the coffin.
The darkness swallowed her, the cold air growing sharper as she fell deeper into the mines. She braced herself for the impact, for the crushing pain she knew was coming, the end she couldn't avoid.
But then—a shock.
Water.
Her body hit the water with a deafening splash, the cold piercing through her like needles. For a moment, she couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The water surrounded her, pulling her under, and her limbs flailed in panic, instinctively fighting for the surface. She had been falling, expecting the hard ground, expecting death. But instead, there was water—a saving grace she hadn't anticipated.
As she broke the surface, gasping for air, the cold rushed into her lungs, leaving her breathless. She floated there for a moment, disoriented, the adrenaline still surging through her veins. Her heart pounded in her chest, but it wasn't just from the fall—it was from the realization that she was still alive. She had survived.
The water washed over her like a metaphorical cleanse, the cold bracing and shocking her back to reality. It was as if, in those moments of falling, everything she had held onto—the guilt, the anger, the fear—had been washed away with it. She had let go.
Her mind was racing, her body shaking from the cold, but there was a clarity she hadn't felt before. I'm alive. I'm still here. The thought repeated itself over and over in her mind, like an anchor pulling her back from the brink.
But now came the hard part. Survival.
The water had saved her, but now the darkness closed in like a vise. Kida floated for a moment, gasping for air as the realization of where she was hit her. The oppressive blackness of the mine pressed down on her from all sides, the walls invisible but too close, too tight. Claustrophobia clawed at her chest.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Her thoughts raced, the panic bubbling up as she treaded water, trying to get a grip. The creature's screech still echoed somewhere in the distance, but now all she could hear was her own heavy breathing. Her heart pounded, adrenaline crashing through her veins, and for a second, she felt like she couldn't breathe.
Get it together, Kida.
Her curls stuck to her face, damp and heavy from the water, tangling and matting against her cheeks and neck. She ripped them away with an irritated grunt, her breath catching. This is not how you go out, girl. Get your shit together.
She felt a familiar ache in her chest—the rising panic she knew too well. The dark. The tight space. The goddamn feeling of being trapped. It all hit her at once, and she could feel the cold grip of claustrophobia dragging her down.
Her mind whirled, fear clouding every thought. What if I don't get out of here? What if Matt thinks I'm dead? What if I never make it back? The questions swirled, suffocating her almost as much as the darkness.
And then, like a jolt, her dad's voice cut through the panic, sharp and unyielding.
"Come on, Kida. You gonna let some dark-ass cave take you out? You're tougher than that, girl. Get your ass up. No one's coming to save you but yourself."
His voice was rough, just like when she was younger and terrified of small spaces. He never let her wallow in her fears. Never let her fall apart. "You've survived worse. So stop freaking out and start doing something."
Kida let out a shaky breath, trying to shake the terror off. He was right. She had survived worse. She was still alive, and she needed to act like it.
"You're right, Dad. Fuck this," she muttered to herself, her voice steadier than she felt. "You're not dying down here, Kida. Not today."
She could feel the panic clawing at the edges of her mind, but she shoved it down, forcing herself to breathe through it. One breath at a time. One fucking step at a time.
Her curls, still clinging to her face and neck, were pissing her off now. Always in the way. With a frustrated grunt, she twisted them into a damp, messy bun, her fingers working through the knots as fast as she could, despite how matted they'd gotten. "Goddamn hair. I don't have time for this shit." She tied it back, her breath coming in short bursts. Better.
The cold of the water was seeping into her bones, and she knew she couldn't just sit there and freeze. Move, Kida. Fucking move.
With a grunt, she pulled herself toward the rocky edge, her arms shaking from the cold and the effort. The moment her fingers touched solid ground, she hauled herself out of the water with everything she had left, collapsing onto the wet, rocky floor. She lay there for a second, breathing hard, her body trembling, but she was alive.
"You're a goddamn survivor, Kida. Get your ass up." Her dad's voice rang in her head again, tough and unyielding, the way he always was when she needed to toughen up.
She sat up slowly, groaning as her muscles screamed at her. "Alright, girl. Let's not die today." She pushed herself to her feet, her legs shaky but holding her weight. "You survived being buried alive. You survived the fire tower. You survived that fucking thing chasing you. You survived this fall. You sure as hell can survive the rest of this fucking mine."
Her eyes darted around the suffocating darkness. She couldn't see shit. Just shadows on shadows, the faint echo of dripping water filling the air. It's so fucking dark.
Her chest tightened again, that familiar panic rising. Fuck, no. Not this time.
"Come on, Kida. You're better than this. Get your shit together," she muttered fiercely to herself, pacing in a small circle to keep herself moving, to keep her mind from falling apart.
The walls felt like they were creeping in on her, but she wasn't going to let that break her down. She couldn't.
"You've got this," she said, her voice hard, as if saying it aloud could make it true. "You're getting out of this damn mine. For Matt. For your own damn self."
Her hands felt along the damp, rocky walls as she moved cautiously forward, feeling her way through the pitch-black abyss. Each step was slow, deliberate, and her heart raced with every sound, every shift of the shadows around her.
Matt's face flashed in her mind, the panic in his eyes when she had let go. He thought she was gone. Hell, he probably thinks I'm dead right now. The thought made her heart ache, but she couldn't focus on that now. She had to survive. She had to make it out of here.
"You're not done yet, Kida," she whispered to herself, trying to keep her thoughts straight. "You're not dying in some goddamn hole in the ground."
Her footsteps echoed in the silent mine, each sound a reminder of how alone she was. But she wasn't going to let the darkness win. No fucking way.
With a deep breath, she steeled herself. One step at a time. Her dad's voice echoed in her mind again, firm and familiar.
"Breathe, girl. Just keep moving. You're stronger than this."
Kida smirked to herself, the tension in her chest loosening just a little. "Yeah, yeah. I'm strong. I know that. Strong as hell. Now let's get the fuck out of here."
She kept moving, her eyes adjusting to the dark as best they could, her hands guiding her through the damp, narrow passage. Her mind buzzed with a mix of determination and fear, but she kept pushing forward, her feet steady despite the shaking in her bones.
"Alright, Kida. It's you against the world now." Her voice was low, but filled with fierce determination. "And I'll be damned if the world wins."
Present Day
Kida blinked awake, her body still heavy with sleep, as the rumble of the car engine hummed around her. For a moment, the shadows of her nightmare clung to her mind, but the warmth of the sunlight streaming through the car window snapped her back to reality. She squinted, taking in the familiar sight of the McDonald's drive-thru.
Of course. She smiled to herself, already knowing Matt's little post-workout tradition. She glanced over at him, still scrolling through his phone, waiting patiently in the drive-thru line.
Matt caught her waking up, his lips already curling into that mischievous smirk she knew too well. He glanced at her with an amused look. "Well, if it isn't Kida 'Ali,' fresh from her nap after knocking me the fuck out at the gym." His grin widened. "You wanna explain why you decided to sucker-punch me today, champ?"
Kida rolled her eyes, still half-asleep, but managed to chuckle. "Oh, please. I didn't mean to clock you. You know I was zoned out."
Matt leaned back, pretending to wince as he rubbed his jaw. "Zoned out or not, that hook was no joke. I'm just glad I still have teeth." He tossed her a wink. "Might have to start calling you Tyson if you keep this shit up."
She laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, well, maybe if you didn't have such a punchable face, you wouldn't be in this situation." She stretched her arms out in front of her, feeling the soreness from their gym session. It had been intense, and she knew the punch had come from a moment of zoning out, trapped in her memories of that night. But Matt hadn't pressed for details, and she appreciated that. Sometimes, silence said enough.
Glancing around again, she realized they were still in line at McDonald's. She grinned, unable to resist teasing him. "So we just killed ourselves at the gym for an hour, and now you're ordering a Big Mac? Extra calories after working out?"
Matt snorted. "Listen, after the shit we eat at the campus café, this is practically gourmet. At least it's not soggy-ass lettuce and rubbery chicken."
Kida wrinkled her nose, trying to play it cool. "The café food isn't that bad..." she mumbled, but she knew she was lying through her teeth.
Matt raised an eyebrow, side-eyeing her. "Really? You gonna lie like that right to my face? You've gagged on that crap more times than I can count."
She sighed, knowing she couldn't keep the charade up any longer. "Okay, fine. It's disgusting. But I'm just trying not to gain weight, alright?"
Matt rolled his eyes dramatically, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Girl, wherever you're gaining it, it's going to all the right places. Trust me." He shot her a look that was half playful, half suggestive.
Kida gasped in mock outrage, her eyes widening. "Oh, you did not just say that! Matt, you're a goddamn idiot."
He laughed, pulling up to the drive-thru speaker. "I just call it like I see it, babe."
Matt placed their usual order, listing off her go-to: a McChicken, fries, and a caramel frappe with extra drizzle. Then he ordered his own: a Big Mac and a Coke. As they rolled forward in line, Kida gave him a sidelong glance, already eyeing his food.
"You know I'm gonna steal some of your fries, right?" she said casually, as if it were a given.
Matt whipped his head toward her, feigning exasperation. "The fuck you are! I gotta eat too, you know." He pointed at her, mock-serious. "You have your own damn fries. These ones are mine."
Kida grinned, completely unfazed. "Oh, please. Your fries always taste better. It's basic science. Don't fight it." She snatched one of his fries from the bag the moment the food was handed through the window, popping it into her mouth with a triumphant smile.
"Goddamn it, Kida!" Matt groaned, shaking his head as he took the bag from the cashier. "You women have some messed-up logic, I swear."
Kida laughed, stealing another fry without a shred of remorse. "Accept it, Matt. It's just how the world works."
Matt sighed dramatically but couldn't hide the grin tugging at his lips. "Fine. But if you take my Big Mac, I'm pushing you out of the car."
Kida smirked, crossing her arms. "I'd like to see you try. You wouldn't last a second."
Matt groaned, pulling away from the drive-thru window as they rolled back onto the street. "I'm serious. No Big Mac thievery. I will fight you."
Kida eyed his Big Mac as he unwrapped it, her grin widening. "I make no promises." She reached over, pretending to swipe at his burger.
Matt pulled it back, mock-growling at her. "You're unbelievable. I don't ask for much, Kida. Just to eat my own damn food."
She burst out laughing, leaning back in her seat as she bit into her McChicken. "Relax. I'll stick to my McChicken... for now."
Kida settled back into her seat, sipping her caramel frappe as she watched the scenery blur past the window. The comfortable silence in the car felt like a cushion between them, a moment of peace after everything. But in the back of her mind, Kida could feel the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing forward. Her own lingering worries about the future, the past, everything that had come crashing down since the mountain. It never really went away, did it?
She glanced over at Matt, who was focused on the road, his jaw set, his hands relaxed but firm on the wheel. She could tell something was on his mind, even if he hadn't said it out loud. He had a way of bottling things up, keeping it together, but Kida knew the cracks when she saw them.
"So... senior year," she began, her voice soft but deliberate. She didn't want to break the peace between them, but she couldn't ignore it either. "It's kind of wild, huh? We're almost at the end of this whole college thing. You've thought about what comes next?"
Matt shifted slightly, his shoulders tensing just a bit as he kept his eyes on the road. He let out a long, slow breath before responding. "Yeah... I think about it." His voice was low, cautious, like he was feeling out the right words. "But not too much. It kinda freaks me out. Everything's moving so fast now."
Kida took another sip of her frappe, the cold sweetness doing little to ease the tightness in her chest. "Yeah, it is. It feels like one minute we were just starting, and now... everything's closing in." She paused, glancing at him again. "Does it freak you out because you're not sure what comes after? Or because of all the pressure right now?"
Matt sighed, his grip on the wheel tightening slightly. "Honestly? It's the pressure. Right now. With homecoming coming up and everything riding on it." He glanced over at her, his face a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "I've got recruiters watching me. I can't fuck this up, Kida. If I do, that's it. There's no second chance. I've been busting my ass to get back in the game, and if I blow this... I don't even know what I'll do."
Kida turned in her seat, her brow furrowed as she listened. She knew Matt had been working hard, but hearing the weight of his words, the fear behind them, made it real in a way she hadn't fully grasped.
"Matt, you're not going to fuck it up," she said quietly, though firmly. "You've been killing it, and you've worked too damn hard to let one game define everything. You're way more than just this one moment."
He shook his head, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips. "Yeah, but it took me so long just to get back here. After the mountain... I wasn't myself for a long time. I wasn't sure if I'd ever feel normal again, you know?" His eyes flickered with something deeper, something he rarely let surface. "And now that I've finally gotten back on track, it's like there's all this pressure to be perfect. Like I can't make any more mistakes. Not again."
Kida felt her heart tighten at his words. She had always wondered how much of that pressure was self-imposed. Since the mountain, Matt had been a rock. For her, for himself, for everyone. He had been steady, unshaken, even after what they'd all been through. But she'd never really seen him crack, not the way she had in those first few months when he'd wake up drenched in sweat, breathless, like the nightmares were chasing him out of sleep.
He had buried that part of himself so well that Kida had started to believe he'd moved on. Maybe that was the problem.
"You never really talked about it," Kida said softly, her eyes scanning his face for any sign of what was going on beneath the surface. "After the mountain, I mean. I know you had nightmares, panic attacks... but then it all just stopped. Like you shut it down. Were you doing that for me? Or... for yourself?"
Matt was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. She could see the internal struggle in him, the battle between keeping everything inside and letting it out. He sighed deeply, his fingers tapping the steering wheel in a restless rhythm. "I don't know," he admitted finally, his voice low. "Maybe for both. You don't just get over shit like that. I know that. But I couldn't let it control me, y'know? I had to keep moving forward, for my own sanity. And yeah, maybe I didn't wanna drag you down with my bullshit. You've always been so strong, Kida. I didn't want to be the one who couldn't handle it."
Kida frowned, staring out the window for a moment, letting his words sink in. Strong. That word again. It felt like a compliment, but sometimes it felt like a curse. People always saw her as strong, resilient, like nothing could shake her. But it wasn't true. She'd just gotten good at faking it.
She turned back to him, her voice softer but firm. "You don't have to handle everything, Matt. You don't have to be the strong one all the time. We've both been through hell, and I get it—sometimes you bury shit just to get through the day. But that doesn't mean it goes away. It's still there, waiting. And you don't have to go through it alone."
Matt's face softened, his shoulders loosening slightly as he let her words sink in. He glanced at her, his expression caught somewhere between gratitude and weariness. "I guess I just... I didn't want to seem weak. Like, after everything, I had to prove that I could handle it. That I could move on."
Kida shook her head, her voice gentle but steady. "You're not weak, Matt. You never were. Surviving that place doesn't make you weak. But pretending everything's fine when it's not? That's just setting yourself up to explode later." She reached over, resting her hand on his arm. "It's okay to not be okay. And it's okay to lean on me. We're in this together. We always have been."
Matt let out a long breath, his grip on the steering wheel loosening. He gave her a small, tired smile, a bit of that old charm creeping back in. "Thanks. I think... I just needed to hear that. From you."
Kida returned the smile, though hers was softer, more introspective. "Anytime, Rookie." She took another sip of her frappe, her thoughts drifting.
She couldn't help but wonder about herself, though. She had buried things, too. The fear. The nightmares. The anger at everything that had happened. But she had pushed it down, telling herself she had to be strong for Matt, for everyone. But maybe she had been fooling herself just as much as Matt had been.
"What are we doing?" she thought, the question lingering in the back of her mind as they drove in silence for a while. "Are we really okay? Or are we just pretending we are because it's easier that way?"
She sighed softly, deciding to let the thought go for now. They had made it this far together. That had to count for something.
Matt broke the silence with a grin. "Alright, enough of the heavy stuff. Just try not to eat all my fries before we get home, yeah?"
Kida laughed, shaking off the weight of the conversation. "No promises."
San Francisco, California – 9:28 AM PST
SAM
In a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of San Francisco, Sam walked her dog along the tree-lined streets, the soft jingle of the leash blending with the early morning sounds. The air was crisp, the faint scent of the ocean drifting on the breeze, and for a few moments, Sam felt a sense of peace. These morning walks were her small refuge—a break before school and life demanded her full attention.
Her golden retriever, Scotch, trotted along beside her, carefree, unaware of the weight that Sam carried with her. For Scotch, life was simple—walks, naps, treats. But for Sam, things had been anything but simple, not since Blackwood Mountain.
She liked this time of day, when the neighborhood was still waking up, the streets nearly empty. It gave her room to breathe, to clear her head. School had been relentless lately, but Sam didn't mind. In fact, she welcomed the constant pressure. It kept her busy—busy enough to push aside the thoughts that always found their way back to the surface. Thoughts of the people she rarely spoke to anymore. Thoughts of the things she tried, and failed, to leave behind.
No matter how hard she focused on the present, the past had a way of creeping in. Always. It had been three years, but it still felt like yesterday. Every moment from that night was burned into her memory—the desperate scramble for survival, the gnawing fear that had gripped them all, the realization that not everyone was going to make it out. That some already hadn't.
Restless days had followed. Sam spent hours tangled in a web of guilt, anger, and confusion, trying to understand how to move forward, how to feel about any of it. There was anger, sure, but it wasn't the simple kind. It went deeper, more complicated than she could untangle. At the heart of it all was Josh, the brother of her best friend—her deceased best friend.
As she turned the corner, her mind drifted back, as it often did, to that sense of loss. Or maybe it was something deeper—responsibility. Emptiness, hollow and cold, had settled within her that night, and she had never quite shaken it.
Four years ago, a part of her had died along with her friends. Another part had been forced to rebuild, changed forever by what they endured. She remembered standing by the door of the lodge, waiting, hoping. Praying that any second it would creak open and she'd see two familiar figures—Hannah and Beth, snow-covered but alive, coming back to safety. One twin strong, determined; the other, timid but kind.
But they never came back.
Unlike some of the others, who shrugged it off as just a prank gone wrong, Sam had known better. She had felt the cruelty of it in her gut. She had chosen her friendship with Hannah over some shallow revenge plot. She had wanted to stop it. She knew what they were doing to Hannah wasn't just a joke—it was cruel. Unforgivable. And yet, she hadn't stopped it in time.
If only she had acted sooner. If only she had known that in fifteen minutes, everything would fall apart. If she had known that her friends would be lost, that her best friend would be thrown into an unspeakable nightmare, she would have done it all differently. She would have blown their cover by standing in the room, told Hannah the truth, and stopped the prank before it even began.
But she didn't. And now, Beth was gone, Hannah was gone, and Josh—broken, shattered—had turned into the very thing they all feared.
There were nights when Sam still couldn't sleep, tossing and turning, haunted by the images that replayed in her mind. The feeling of running through the cold, vulnerable, with nothing but a towel to protect her from Josh's twisted "killer psycho" persona. The thought of him going even further than he had terrified her more than she liked to admit. She had escaped, but the fear lingered.
And then there was the music. Bach, the classical piece that had played during her bath that night. It had once been a song of calm for her, a piece that brought clarity and stillness. But after that night, she couldn't listen to it the same way. The music was Josh's twisted symphony, orchestrating a nightmare she could never forget. She didn't delete it from her playlist—maybe she couldn't bring herself to—but every time it came on, she'd skip it without hesitation.
That night had changed everything. Sam, although trying to get on the path of forgiveness, still held the desire to seek some kind of revelation from Josh. Everyone else hadn't spoken much about him, and she couldn't blame them. It was too much to easily forgive and forget, even for her. But she couldn't let that chapter of her life close without at least trying to make sense of it. Maybe it was her way of moving forward—of putting the pieces back together.
As Sam walked, her thoughts swirled, drawn back to the looming visit with Josh. What am I even looking for? she wondered, her mind flipping through emotions she'd buried but never fully let go of. Was it closure? Forgiveness? Or maybe it was just a desperate need to understand—to understand how the person she once cared about could turn into someone capable of orchestrating that horror.
The others had all dealt with the fallout in their own ways, or at least they were trying. Some had buried it deeper than others. She wondered how much of that night still clung to them, even in their silence.
She glanced down at Scotch, who happily trotted beside her, blissfully unaware of the storm in her head. He's lucky, she thought, smiling softly at her dog. Life is simple for him. No complicated past to reconcile.
But that wasn't her reality. Her reality was a mess of fragmented relationships, fractured trust, and a relentless sense of loss.
Her mind drifted to Emily, the hardest one to reach since everything had gone down. Even after all this time, Emily kept her distance, and Sam couldn't help but feel the gap widening between them. Maybe Emily was still angry. Angry about the choices that were made, angry about what happened to her on that mountain. Hell, Sam wouldn't blame her. Emily had never been the type to show vulnerability, to let people in.
It made Sam worry more about her.
The last they spoke was during Emily's big break—landing that internship at a top marketing firm. Sam had felt proud, genuinely happy for her. But the silence that followed was telling. Emily wasn't one to lean on people, not even now. It was as if she'd built her walls even higher after that night. Maybe that was her way of coping.
Then there was Matt and Kida—probably the only two who seemed to have come out of it stronger. The trauma, instead of pulling them apart, had fused them closer together. Sam was happy for them, despite the occasional twinge of jealousy at how seamlessly their relationship had grown. It wasn't that she begrudged them their happiness—it was just... they seemed so far removed from the mess the rest of them still waded through.
Matt had always been a rock, even when Sam wasn't sure if that strength was for himself or for Kida. He was solid, dependable. He'd been through hell, and though he didn't talk about it often, Sam knew the weight he carried. She knew he hadn't really healed either—none of them had. They were all just trying to figure it out.
Kida had come a long way too. Strong, fierce Kida, who always seemed to find a way through. They'd all been through something unimaginable, but Kida... Sam could tell she had faced demons of her own. The fact that she had encouraged Sam to visit Josh, of all people, said a lot about her. There was a level of maturity and forgiveness there that Sam wasn't sure she had yet.
Sam respected her for that. Even admired her.
But for Sam, seeing Josh again felt like stepping into the unknown. She knew it wouldn't be easy—hell, it was probably going to be one of the hardest things she'd done since the mountain. There was no roadmap for confronting the person who had shattered your trust, your friendships, your entire sense of safety. No guidebook for how to make sense of the twisted maze of betrayal and madness.
But she had to try.
If nothing else, she needed to see for herself who Josh was now. Had he changed? Was he still the same shattered person? Was there even a path toward forgiveness? Or would seeing him only solidify the fact that they could never go back to the way things were?
As she turned another corner, Scotch pulling slightly ahead, Sam felt the familiar pang of uncertainty in her chest. What would she say to him? How do you confront someone who has caused so much pain and yet, in some way, still mattered to you?
She swallowed hard, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. It wasn't going to be easy, but if anyone could face this, it was her. She had survived that night on the mountain, survived the cold, the terror, and the betrayal. She could survive this too.
And maybe, just maybe, there would be some kind of peace at the end of it.
Sam took a deep breath, letting the crisp morning air fill her lungs as she tried to steady her thoughts. This is it, she told herself, feeling the tension ease, if only for a moment. You've faced worse. You can do this.
Scotch gave a playful bark, bringing her back to the present. Sam chuckled softly, patting his head. "Come on, boy. Let's get you home."
As they walked back, her mind wandered one last time to the others—the ones who had drifted away, like Mike, who she only spoke to in passing. The ones who carried their own scars, like Jessica, who had withdrawn into herself after what she'd been through.
Sam had no idea if they were healing, or if they were just pretending like she sometimes did. But she hoped, for all of them, that there would be some kind of light at the end of this mess.
Sam's feet hit the paved path with a steady rhythm as she made her way back toward campus, Scotch padding happily beside her, unaware of the heaviness that clouded her thoughts. The serene streets of the quiet neighborhood gradually gave way to the familiar buzz of campus life. Students hurried past her, backpacks slung over shoulders, headphones in, rushing to their next class or social gathering. It was a scene she'd seen a hundred times, yet today it felt distant, like she was walking through it without really being there.
Her mind was somewhere else.
Maybe today would be the day. The day she finally had the conversation she'd been avoiding with Josh—the real conversation. Not the surface-level chats they'd been having, not the drawn-out discussions about his therapy or updates on her schoolwork. Something deeper. Something real.
Her grip on Scotch's leash tightened slightly, her pulse quickening at the thought. What would she even say? She wasn't entirely sure herself, but the questions had been building for a while now, clawing at the back of her mind during lectures, in the quiet moments before she fell asleep, and even in the middle of everyday tasks like walking the dog.
Why had he involved her in his scheme? Why had he chosen her to be a part of that twisted night?
It was a question she had yet to ask him, one that simmered under the surface of every conversation they had since she started visiting him. For the most part, they kept it simple. Josh would talk about his therapy sessions—how the doctors were trying new approaches, adjusting his medications. He'd share bits and pieces of his day, nothing too deep, always vague, like he didn't want to linger on anything too real. Sam, on the other hand, had kept her visits polite, almost mundane. She'd tell him about school, her routine, little snippets of campus life, and how Scotch was growing more spoiled by the day.
It had become a routine. Comfortable. But it wasn't enough.
Josh was still himself in some ways—still sharp, still able to joke in that dry, sarcastic way he had—but something about him had shifted. He was more closed off. It was like a part of him was trapped beneath the weight of everything that had happened—his demons, his mistakes, his guilt. Sam had seen it in his eyes, in the way he sometimes hesitated before responding, like he was constantly holding himself back.
She couldn't help but wonder if his connection with her had been real or if, even in those moments after the loss of his sisters, he had been plotting—planning the twisted revenge that would shatter them all. Had he used her? That question gnawed at her, and she had to know the truth.
As she approached the sprawling campus, the large stone buildings coming into view, her mind drifted back to the last conversation she'd had with Josh. It had been a few days ago, and like most of their talks, it had been a careful dance around the edges of the truth. He'd asked her how her classes were going, and she had told him about a group project that was driving her insane. Josh had smirked and made some offhand comment about group projects being like "herding cats," and that had been it—the conversation had drifted back into neutral territory.
He never pushed. And Sam had never pushed him.
But now, she was ready to. Or at least, she thought she was.
She glanced around as she walked past the dorms, where students lounged on benches or sat under trees with textbooks open, pretending to study but clearly more focused on their phones or gossiping with friends. The campus was alive, bustling with energy and chatter. It was a far cry from the silence of the psychiatric facility where Josh lived now. He was cut off from all of this, from the normalcy, from the life they had once shared.
Maybe that's what had twisted him so much—the isolation, the grief of losing his sisters, the feeling that everything had been ripped away from him. But then again, they had all lost something that night. Everyone had been broken in some way, and yet, they were all trying to move forward. Why had Josh taken such a dark path? What had pushed him to drag them all into his pain? Into his revenge?
The questions burned in her mind, even now, as she walked through the familiar pathways of her campus life. What had driven him to target her? Was she just another pawn in his twisted game, or had there been something deeper, something real in their friendship?
She was never the type to get lost in emotion. She had always kept things in check, even on the mountain. Sam had been the rational one, the one who had pushed through the terror, who had tried to lead and survive. But now, all these years later, that same control felt fragile. There were nights she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, when the questions would come flooding in, leaving her restless, tangled in confusion and anger.
Why?
Sam stopped in front of her dorm building, staring up at it as if it held the answers she was looking for. It didn't, of course. The answers were with Josh, locked behind the carefully constructed walls he had built around himself.
Today, she would tear those walls down. She had to.
Enough of the small talk. Enough of the safe, surface-level conversations. If she was going to keep visiting him, if she was going to keep putting herself through this, then she needed the truth.
She adjusted Scotch's leash, taking a deep breath as she pushed open the door to the dorm, her footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. Maybe today would be the day she found out the answers she had been searching for. Maybe today, she would finally confront the person who had shattered her sense of safety, who had ripped apart her friendships, and who had somehow managed to survive it all, just like her.
Maybe today, they would finally talk about the things they had both been avoiding for far too long.
Sam shut the door to her dorm room behind her, the familiar click bringing a fleeting sense of peace. Finally. She had been waiting for this moment all morning—time to shower, relax, and let the day start properly. Her walk with Scotch had cleared her head just enough, but the weight of what she planned to do later—the talk with Josh—still lingered in the back of her mind.
She peeled off her jacket, tossing it onto her bed, and walked over to her dresser to grab some clothes. A long, hot shower was exactly what she needed before heading back out. She'd already made her rounds as the RA earlier, handling the morning duties, checking on the residents, and doing her part. This was her time now.
But just as she pulled her tank top over her head, there was a knock at the door. Seriously? Sam groaned softly, rolling her eyes. She was tempted to ignore it, but as an RA, she knew she couldn't do that. What do they want now? She wasn't going to be rude about it—Sam wasn't a pushover, but she wasn't the type to snap at someone for no reason either. She just hoped this wouldn't take long.
Grabbing her towel, she wrapped it around herself and walked over to the door. She swung it open, ready for whatever request or issue awaited her.
Standing in the doorway was one of her classmates. Fair-skinned, shoulder-length blonde hair, and bright green eyes that always seemed calm, no matter the situation. At least it's someone chill.
"Bria,(1)" Sam greeted softly.
"Hey, sorry to bother you," Bria said, offering a small smile, holding out a notebook. "I wanted to return these notes. I was gonna give them back during class later, but something came up—I've gotta head home for a family emergency."
Sam's annoyance melted away instantly, replaced by concern. "Oh, no. I hope everything's okay?" She took the notebook from Bria, setting it down on her desk.
Bria shrugged, a tired look in her eyes. "It's my dad. He's... not doing so great. So, I'll probably be out for the rest of the week."
Sam nodded sympathetically. "Don't worry about the notes. If you need anything while you're gone, just shoot me a text, okay?"
"Thanks, Sam." Bria gave her a grateful smile before heading down the hall, her footsteps fading into the background.
Closing the door softly, Sam sighed, feeling a little guilty for being irritated at first. Bria hadn't meant to interrupt, and besides, her problem was a lot bigger than Sam's plans for a shower. It's fine.
She threw the towel onto her bed and sat down at her desk, her mind already drifting toward Josh again. Today's the day, she told herself. She needed to confront him about everything that had been eating away at her for so long. But first, she had to check her emails—make sure nothing had popped up for her classes or RA duties that she needed to deal with before heading out.
Clicking through her inbox, she skimmed over the usual mix of reminders, class updates, and notifications from her professors. Nothing urgent, thank God. But just as she was about to log out, something caught her eye.
A headline.
At first, she almost brushed it off. The word Blackwood wasn't uncommon—it could have been about anything. But something in the back of her mind made her hesitate. Could it be...?
Her hand hovered over the mouse, her pulse quickening as she clicked on the link. As the page loaded, she read the headline fully for the first time.
"Psycho Behind Blackwood Horror Finally Released."
Sam froze.
Her heart slammed in her chest, the words searing into her mind. Finally released. The article was about Josh.
He's out.
Her breath caught in her throat as a dozen emotions hit her all at once—shock, confusion, fear, and a lingering sense of dread she hadn't felt since that night. How could they release him? Her mind scrambled for answers, but all she could do was stare at the screen, the article blurring in front of her eyes.
She'd known he was improving—at least, that's what he said in their talks. The doctors, too, had mentioned progress in his therapy. But released? It seemed impossible. Was he really ready?
Her hands trembled slightly as she scrolled through the article, her stomach twisting. The words seemed distant, hollow, but each one landed like a punch to the gut.
The memories of the mountain, of that night, came flooding back. The fear, the betrayal, the confusion—all of it surged forward, overwhelming her in an instant. Her carefully constructed walls, the ones she'd built to keep the past at bay, were cracking. He's out.
What now?
Sam leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. Today was supposed to be about her confronting him, about finally getting answers. But now? Now it was different. Everything was different.
End of Chapter Three
(1) - Bria is not my OC but she belongs to my closest friend, Ang. Check out her story "The Vanishing Hours" as it resorts with Until Dawn. Good book!@ thefantasticang
We are finally getting somewhere! The next chapter will finalize the day's event of Josh's release before we move forward!
Until next time!