Later that night Culver Garden, in the Bailey residence, the smell of lavender drifted through the narrow hallway, mingling with the quiet hum of a lullaby Meredith softly sang. She'd just finished tucking her grandmother into bed, pulling the quilt up snugly and making sure her medication sat within reach on the nightstand. Her grandmother's eyes, tired but still sharp, followed her as she gently brushed a strand of silver hair from her forehead.

"Don't you be stayin' up too late, Mer." her grandmother whispered, her voice thick with sleep. "They still haven't caught him yet."

"I won't." Meredith promised softly, pressing a quick kiss to her grandmother's cheek. "Sleep well, Gran. You're safe here with me." She added it with a little smile, her hand gently brushing over her grandmother's as she turned off the bedside lamp.

After a few moments, Meredith retreated down the hall, the warmth of the dim light fading as she closed her grandmother's door. The entire house was still. She flicked her phone on, when she noticed a notification, Incoming Call: Steven Carson.

Her stomach flipped a little, a mix of nervousness and excitement as she answered. "Hey, Steven." she greeted, stepping out the back door to let the fresh air cool her nerves. The backyard was dark but comforting, the trees casting tall, stretched shadows across the moonlit grass. She tugged her hoodie closer around her.

"Hey, Mer." Steven's voice crackled over the line, low and warm with a bit of a nervous laugh. "Wow, it's nice to finally, uh, hear your voice. I was starting to think maybe you were a catfish."

Meredith chuckled, relaxing a little. "Yeah, well, I don't get on the phone much. Guess it's a 'live and in person' debut, huh?"

"Definitely. Though I think I'd prefer a real in-person thing. Just, you know, no killer lurking around in the background." His tone was light, but Meredith sensed the tension underneath.

"You heard about what happened, huh?" she asked, glancing around the quiet backyard. The shadows felt a little sharper tonight, the wind a little colder.

"Everyone's talking about it. A couple of girls from Northridge, right? And that Boogeyman creep… Christ. How are you holding up?"

She bit her lip, shrugging despite herself. "It's terrible, yeah. But Northridge isn't Hollywood Arts. I mean, it's…close, but it's not our school. I'm fine. Everyone's on edge, but it's not like he has a type, right? Just random, brutal…and messy." She exhaled, her breath puffing into the cool night.

"Still, I'd feel better if you were careful. This guy's been active for years now, right? Three? No one's ever even seen him, no clues, nothing." He trailed off, sighing. "I'm starting to think he's a ghost or some nightmare they cooked up to keep people paranoid."

"Well, he's doing a damn good job at that." Meredith murmured, scanning the perimeter of her yard with a sudden, nagging itch at the back of her mind. She gripped the phone tighter, glancing at the gate, which creaked faintly as it swayed in the breeze. The streetlamp outside flickered, casting brief flashes of light that cut through the shadows before fading again.

"So, what're you doing right now?" she asked, trying to lighten the conversation a bit, the tension making her restless.

"Honestly? Sitting in my room, probably looking like a total weirdo, watching my window like something's gonna jump through it."

"You're a little paranoid, aren't you?" she teased, a slight laugh in her voice.

"Maybe. But you can't blame me with all this going on. Feels like I've been reading one horror story after another these days. Makes you wonder how this guy's never been caught. Doesn't he ever slip up?"

Meredith leaned back against the porch rail, her fingers tracing the cool, splintered wood. "Well…he's been at it for three years, Steven. Hundreds of people. Maybe he knows the city better than anyone else. Or he's just…not human." She shook her head, rolling her eyes at herself. "God, listen to me. I sound like a horror movie cliche."

"But what if he's…real? I mean, really out there." Steven's voice dropped, softer now. "Right behind someone, right now, waiting. Watching…"

A shiver ran down her spine, but she shook it off, laughing. "Alright, now you're just trying to freak me out."

"Sorry, I—"

"No, it's…it's fine." she cut in, wrapping her arms around herself. "I get it. It's just...well, it's all a little hard to believe, isn't it?"

They both fell into silence, the air between them charged with an unspoken anxiety. Meredith's eyes wandered to the tree line at the back of the yard, her pulse quickening as she thought she saw movement. But it was nothing—just the wind stirring the leaves, throwing shadows over the ground. She exhaled.

"You alright, Mer?" Steven's voice broke through her thoughts, laced with genuine concern.

"Yeah." she replied softly. "I'm good. Just…jumpy, I guess."

"We can talk about other things, like… I don't know… you ever watch iCarly?"

Meredith's face lights up, "Oh, of course, I love that show!"

"Well, I'm friends with Freddy, and if you want, we can meet up after graduation and I can introduce you to them." Steven chuckles, amused by Meredith's excitement on the other end.

Meredith's smile grows wider, "Really?! Okay, now I'm definitely looking forward to meeting you now more than ever."

"By the way. How's your film club holding up?" Steven asked, "You guys are Hollywood Arts, you're bound to make something dramatic before graduating. Us, here, we're just doing a documentary."

Meredith made a face, not that he could see it. "Ugh, don't even get me started. We made a slasher movie as our big send-off."

"Wait, seriously? That's awesome!" Steven sounded thrilled, but Meredith's tone remained skeptical.

"Yeah, I guess. But honestly? I was kinda hoping for something… I don't know, deeper? Something that actually felt meaningful, maybe even a little inspiring, you know? Maybe a musical? Hell, everybody sings and dances in the club." Meredith bit her lip. "Not that I'd ever say that out loud. You don't exactly… question Lola."

"Who's that? She's your club leader or something like that?" Steven's tone perked up with curiosity.

Meredith scoffed quietly. "Leader, yeah, that's a word for it. She runs the club with Ryder, but trust me, she's the real power. I mean, she's at the top of the food chain at Hollywood Arts, and… I guess it's weird I never mentioned her before, but yeah, she's Tori Vega's twin. Her very, very different twin."

"Wait, back up—Tori Vega has a twin?" Steven's surprise was obvious. "All I know about Tori is from her videos in her YouTube channel and all that crazy media coverage after… you know, her mom."

"Yeah." Meredith sighed, leaning back against the deck chair. "The one and only. They're… identical, like freakishly identical. But I guess you'd only know her from all that online stuff, right? She's different, though, when you know her in real life. I don't know if there's anyone else quite like her... or her sister, for that matter."

"That is crazy." Steven replied. "I didn't even know she had a twin. So, what's Lola like?"

"She's… God, how do I even start?" Meredith pulled her knees up to her chest, staring out into the dark. "Lola's more like… the perfect student. Everyone loves her. She's the president of our film club, a straight-A genius, her paintings and drawings are out of this world, and a complete sweetheart… that is until you piss her off. She's like this perfect blend of genius, artist, and... well, a ticking time bomb."

"Wow." Steven chuckled. "She sounds intense. And I thought Tori was bad like you said."

"Oh, Tori's nothing compared to Lola. Tori's all attitude and mouth, y'know? Struts around like she owns the school, but deep down, that is just bark with no bite." Meredith said. "Lola, on the other hand… if you cross her, she'll actually follow through."

Steven let out a low whistle. "Sounds like a girl you don't want to mess with."

Meredith laughed, though it was more nervous than amused. "Trust me. Even Tori's scared of her. And Tori's fearless when it comes to everyone else. She can get away with murder—well, not literally—but when it comes to Lola? Different story."

There was a beat of silence before Steven spoke again. "So, is she as… famous as Tori? Or…"

"Not exactly." Meredith replied, glancing over her shoulder as if Lola might suddenly appear behind her. "She keeps to herself, mostly. She doesn't have a YouTube channel and isn't plastered all over social media. But around school? Everyone loves her, mostly because she's the only one who can put Tori in her place."

"What's she like with Tori?" Steven asked, genuinely curious. "Must be weird having a twin who's the polar opposite."

"They have this… weird relationship. Like... Tori's loud and thinks she's invincible because everyone loves her, you know? Or used to. But after what happened to their mom…" Meredith trailed off, glancing around instinctively. "Anyway, Lola's the only one Tori listens to. Everyone at school's seen it; if Tori's out of line, Lola's the one who shuts her up."

"Talk about twin magic." Steven laughs, and Meredith follows. "So, what is it about her script that you don't like?"

"Look, I'm just saying, Steve, it's... I dunno, it's just... off, okay?" She sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Lola's script makes my skin crawl. Writing herself as the killer? Saying she snapped after bad years of bad parenting, so she kills her mom? It's like she's putting herself in the plot as some sort of tragic villain. Like, everyone knows what happened to her mom, it's... just bad taste, right?"

A slight static crackled before Steven's voice filtered through. "I mean, I get that it's a little edgy, but isn't that the whole point? She wants the movie to feel real."

"Yeah, but there's a difference between 'edgy' and whatever the hell this is. She's even got us playing ourselves in the film! That's... weird! We're not actors, Steve. It's not just a movie—it feels like she's dragging us into her messed-up headspace."

He chuckled nervously. "I think she's just trying to be authentic. You know, go for that raw, gritty realism or whatever."

Meredith rolled her eyes, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It's more than that. It's—God, it's like she's using her mom's murder as a plot device, making us all relive that night but in this twisted, fictional way."

Steven hesitated on the other end. "Well, I mean, you think she'd actually…?"

"Come on, don't tell me you're not the least bit creeped out." Meredith said, exasperated. "Something is off about her lately. There's something about her. And the way she handles Tori, it's like she's holding onto something. She even wrote her best friend Ryder, Tori's boyfriend if you can believe that, as her accomplice. It's sick."

"Kind of gross. Exploiting grief like that." Steven commented.

"Tell me about it. The whole setup's just way too real, especially with Hayley and Tara getting killed last night. That's why we barricaded the doors when she, especially with the Boogeyman still on the loose." Meredith said. "The last thing I want is to think about killers."

"That's one way of putting it." Steven's chuckle was hollow. "I mean… aren't you freaked out that there with some psycho out there carving people up?"

Meredith stopped, the faint crunch of gravel under her shoes sounding far too loud in the silence that followed. She looked around the empty back lane, the shadows cast by the security light in their backyard, stretching long and dark across the pavement. She forced a laugh. "Well, thanks for caring for me, Steven. But, my neighbourhood, is pretty secure. It's far from the Boogeyman's hunting grounds."

"Are you sure? Because last I checked all of LA is my hunting ground. And you're standing outside. Alone" His tone was oddly insistent, his voice closer, louder. "I'm just saying… you're braver than you look, Meredith."

Her stomach dropped. "What did you say? And how did you know I'm outside?"

The silence from the other end felt like it had a weight of its own. Then his voice came again, softer now, almost mocking. "What do you think?"

A cold prickle slid down her spine. She looked around, the night feeling darker and heavier than before. She tried to laugh it off, a nervous, strained sound. "Okay, very funny. Cut it out, Steven."

He paused before responding as if letting the silence seep in. "I'm not being funny, Meredith. I'm watching you right now."

A shiver of panic gripped her. She hugged herself tighter. Her voice wavered, "This—this isn't funny. Seriously. You're scaring me."

His chuckle came again, lower this time, the edges of his voice jagged. "Sorry" he chuckles, "But you should probably close your hoodie up. It's chilly tonight. Wouldn't want you catching a cold or anything before graduation, right?"

Her breath caught, her heart hammering in her chest. She looked down at herself, her hoodie unzipped just as he'd said, a shiver crawling up her spine. She whipped around, peering down the street, her eyes sweeping over every patch of darkness, every creak of branches in the faint breeze. "...Steven? Are you joking right now?"

There was no answer. Silence. And then, in a calm tone, almost too calm, too familiar, and nonchalant came the reply. "What do you think?"

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "I think I'm done talking to you. I don't… I don't want to meet up anymore."

The voice on the other end turned dark, livid. "Don't hang up on me!"

She didn't wait. Her thumb jabbed the end-call button, and she spun on her heel, sprinting towards the door. The gravel crunched beneath her as her pace quickened, and all she could hear now was the pounding of her own heart.

As Meredith crept back to her grandmother's house, her hands shook as she held her phone tightly. Each echo of her footsteps sent a chill through her, each creak of the old floorboards a reminder of her isolation. She'd bolted every lock on every door, latched every window, and yet there he was—Steven, or whoever he truly was on the phone, calling again—taunting her from somewhere in the shadows.

Meredith answers, "Meredith," his voice sneered through the phone, carrying a mix of mockery and malice that sent a fresh wave of goosebumps crawling over her skin. "I told you not to hang up on me."

Meredith stopped in her tracks, swallowing the lump in her throat as she looked out of their backyard, hoping to see nothing lurking in the corners. She forced herself to breathe, feeling the air shudder between her teeth. Her silence hung heavy, trembling on the edge of fear.

In response, she pressed the red icon on her screen. Call ended

A buzz, then another—her phone vibrated again. The name Steven flashed across the screen, and she could barely bring herself to answer. She clutched the phone close to her face, hissing into it, "Leave me alone asshole!"

His laugh crackled through the speaker, low and vicious. "You really think you're in charge here, don't you, you little bitch?" he spat, the venom in his words sharp enough to wound. "Hang up on me again, and I'll gut you like a fucking fish. Test me Come on! Test me!"

She flinched as though he were standing right beside her, his voice almost solid, bearing down on her. She looked back at the backdoor, her breaths coming in short gasps. The thought of his blade, cold against her skin, seared into her mind, refusing to fade. Her fingers shook so violently that she almost dropped the phone. "I'm—" She swallowed, her voice catching in her throat. "Don't..." she stammered, gripping her arms tightly, her nails digging into her flesh to keep herself steady. "Don't come near me. Don't call me. Don't text me. Forget our little meeting."

A sharp intake of breath hissed through the phone. "Oh, I'll do more than that, Me-Re-Death!" he sneered, his tone dropping into something dark and sinister. "If you don't want to meet up. Then I'll gouge your fucking eyes out, that way you'll never see anything again!"

Meredith's heart pounded in her chest, her breathing quickening as she backed toward the basement door for a bat, but it was locked. She heard his breath through the phone, steady and unhurried, as though he was enjoying every second of her terror. "Who are you?" she finally whispered, her voice barely more than a tremor. She didn't dare raise it, as if shouting would only draw him closer.

Silence. Then, a slow, drawn-out chuckle that clawed through her nerves. "Haven't you heard of me, Meredith?" he taunted, voice a dark, menacing drawl. "The news can't seem to stop talking about me. I have been called many names by the media, they call me a Phantom. The host of Los Angeles. The Boogeyman of Hollywood. The one they'll never catch."

Her breath caught. Meredith remembers bodies in the news. Bodies drained of blood, bodies with their throats slit, bodies charred, broken, dismembered. People like Haley and Tara, butchered and left like nothing. And now he was here, the monster she'd only known through news segments and whispered rumors, crawling into her life and her veins.

Meredith sobs, "What do you want?"

"I want to feel your heart in my hand... and if you keep talking, maybe I'll let you in on a little secret about those who I killed in the past. Or maybe…" He chuckled, the sound chilling her to the bone. "Maybe I'll just make you a part of the next headline."

Meredith screamed again, "Leave me alone!"

"Too late for that, sweetheart. You invited me in the moment you decided to answer that phone." Meredith, hangs up and goes for the keys in the wall. She fumbles the keys in a panic. Her hands shook so badly that it took her three attempts to jam the right key into the lock. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

Finally, the door swung open, and she stepped into the shadowy darkness. But as she took a step forward, she felt the air change, thickening with a chilling, silent malice. A figure loomed in front of her, a silhouette dressed in the infamous Father Death costume. Their mask was a white, leering face of death, hollow eyes fixed on her as he raised a gleaming knife.

Before Meredith could scream, he lunged, the blade sinking into her shoulder. Pain exploded through her body as he drove her back against the wall, the force nearly knocking the breath out of her. She gasped, vision blurred by pain and terror.

Blood streamed down her shoulder, staining her hoodie, but she pushed herself onward, raising her foot, she kicked the killer in the stomach, dropping them to their knees along with their knife.

Meredith's only thought reaching her grandmother's room at the top of the stairs. "Grandma!" she screamed, voice hoarse with terror. "Grandma lock your room!" Her vision blurred with fear, but she could make out a shape waiting at the top—another Father Death costume, this one bulkier, taller. They swung hard as their first met her face with a brutal force, sending her tumbling down the stairs.

She landed hard, her breath knocked out of her in a strangled sob as her head throbbed. Dazed, she looked up through a haze of pain to see them setting up a small camera on the edge of the hallway.

"Showtime," they grunted, their voice disguised by a modulator as they adjusted the camera angle.

Before she could even get up, he was on her, their boot slamming down on her head, over and over, mercilessly. Stars burst behind her eyes as her vision swam. She could feel her strength slipping with every impact, barely able to lift her hands in defence. The pain, sharp and relentless, shattered her focus until she could only hear the dull thudding of her heartbeat, growing weaker with each stomp.

The first killer slowly pulled himself to their feet, clutching their stomach where she'd kicked them, swearing under their breath. They looked shaken, even through the white mask. The second one rushed over, their hands gently touching the side of their partner's arm. "Hey, you good? What the hell's going on with you tonight?"

The first killer shook their head, brushing the other off, and turned their attention back to Meredith, who lay semi-conscious at the foot of the stairs. "Dumbass," they sneered, voice dripping with disgust even behind their modulator. They stalked toward her, kneeling down to press a gloved hand over her mouth, stifling the faint, broken gasps that escaped her.

In her fading vision, she felt the cold sting of their fingers pressing over her eyes, the pressure intensifying until a burst of white-hot agony tore through her, blinding her completely. She screamed into their palm, but it was no use.

The second killer crouched down beside the first, handing him a hunting knife, his voice low and expectant. "Do your work."

The first killer took the knife, a cold gleam catching in their eyes behind the mask as they pressed it against her skin, the sharp edge sinking in as they began to carve.