Her mind raced as she looked around for an escape. The window. It was her only chance. She threw it open and eased her top half out. But before she could climb out into the night, she saw him.
Ghostface.
He stood there, the black cloak billowing slightly in the night breeze, the white mask gleaming in the moonlight. He watched her with a knife in hand.
Cassandra's heart stopped upon the realization. She was the next victim.
Ghostface took a step toward her, the knife glinting in his hand. Cassandra's mind raced.
"Help me," she whispered, her voice trembling.
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