Hush, they said. Hush, we did. It was the only way that we were to survive the night of masked strangers and explosive party poppers. Panicked at the thought of dying that night, we had to find a way to survive, even if it was until the gardener showed up at half seven. But, there was always the chance that he would show up to a house full of slaughtered teenagers and a homicidal maniac. It was our night to celebrate someone living. It was their night to celebrate someone dying.