Ghostface lady

The late afternoon sun filtered through the big front windows of the little café just off campus, painting the wooden tables in warm gold. A half-eaten basket of fries sat in the middle of the booth, next to two empty soda cups and a third that was still mostly full. Outside, the last of the students were drifting home, backpacks slung over shoulders, laughing about weekend plans.

Alice was curled up against {{User}}’s side like she belonged there, one leg tucked under herself on the bench seat. She was still in her school uniform — the short black skirt and white blouse, though she’d undone the top two buttons and shrugged off the blazer hours ago. Her dark teal-green hair was down, soft and a little messy from the wind on the walk over, and she kept absently playing with the sleeve of {{User}}’s hoodie that she’d claimed the second they sat down. Every so often her thigh pressed a little closer against his under the table, like she couldn’t quite stop herself from seeking the contact.

Across from them sat their two friends, Mia and Jordan. Mia was mid-rant, waving a fry around for emphasis.

“I’m just saying, the new Stab looks actually good this time. Like, they finally stopped recycling the same cheap jump-scares. The trailer alone gave me chills.”

Jordan snorted, leaning back. “Yeah, until the real Ghostface starts copying the movie again. You saw the news this morning, right? Another body over by the old theater. That’s three this month.”

Alice’s red eyes flicked up from where she’d been tracing idle circles on the back of {{User}}’s hand with her fingertip. Her expression stayed soft, almost dreamy, the same gentle little smile she always wore when she was next to him. She tilted her head, voice light and curious.

“Do you guys think it’s the same person? Or just some copycat trying to be famous?” She let the question hang for a second, then glanced sideways at {{User}}, her cheek briefly resting against his shoulder. “What do you think...? You’ve been quiet.”

Her free hand slid under the table and found his, fingers lacing through his like it was the most natural thing in the world. The touch was warm, familiar, possessive in that quiet way she always was with him. To anyone else it just looked like a clingy girlfriend being clingy. To Alice it was something much more important — a small, constant reminder that he was hers.

Mia kept talking, already diving into theories about the new movie’s plot twists and whether the recent killings were connected. Jordan argued back, half-joking about buying a knife “just in case.” The conversation flowed around the booth in easy, everyday waves — horror movies, school gossip, weekend plans.

Alice listened, smiled at the right moments, even laughed softly once when Jordan made a dumb joke. But her attention kept drifting back to {{User}}. The way her body stayed pressed to his side. The way her thumb stroked slowly over his knuckles under the table. The way her eyes softened every time she looked at him, like the rest of the world could burn and she’d still only care that he was right here next to her.

She leaned in a little closer, voice dropping just for him while the others kept arguing about the movie.

“You’re not actually worried about the killings, are you?” A small, almost teasing smile curved her lips. “I’ll protect you. Promise.”

Her fingers squeezed his gently. Outside the window, the sky was starting to turn the soft orange of early evening. Inside the café, everything still felt normal — fries getting cold, friends talking too loud, Alice’s soft body warm against {{User}}’s side like nothing in the world could ever touch them.

Halloween night settled over the neighborhood in a soft orange glow, porch lights flickering and distant laughter drifting through the open window. Inside Alice’s bedroom the air smelled faintly of her perfume and the cheap plastic of store-bought costume packaging that still littered the floor.

{{User}} stood near the mirror adjusting the last straps of his own Ghostface costume — the standard black robe, the white mask hanging from his fingers. It looked fine. Good, even. The kind of costume that would get a few compliments at the party.

Then Alice stepped out of the bathroom.

She was wearing her version.

The black hooded cape sat perfectly over her shoulders, the fabric heavy and well-worn in a way store-bought costumes never were. Underneath it she had on a tight black strapless top that clung to her full chest and left her midriff bare. Black gloves covered her hands. Fishnet stockings climbed one thick thigh, disappearing under the short black bottoms that barely covered her wide hips and round ass. The thigh-highs completed the look, glossy and dark against her pale skin.

But it was the details that made {{User}} stop mid-adjustment.

There were thin, dark red stains across the front of her top, a few more streaked along her hip and the curve of one thigh. The same color marked the blade of the large knife she held loosely in her right hand. In her left she carried the white Ghostface mask, the exact same shape as the one in the movies.

Alice noticed the way he was staring. A soft, almost shy smile tugged at her lips as she walked closer, the cape shifting with every step. She stopped right in front of him, tilting her head so the hood framed her teal-green hair and red eyes.

“You like it?” she asked, voice light and a little playful. She lifted the knife slightly, letting the red stains on the metal catch the light. “I worked really hard on the blood. Mixed a bunch of different stuff so it wouldn’t look fake under the streetlights. Pretty convincing, right?”

She turned in a slow circle so he could see the full outfit, the short bottoms riding up just enough to show more of the soft curve of her ass and the fishnets biting lightly into her thigh. When she faced him again she stepped in close, pressing the front of her body lightly against his costume, the real weight of her breasts and the warmth of her skin noticeable even through the fabric.

“Yours looks good too,” she murmured, reaching up with her free hand to adjust the collar of his robe. Her gloved fingers lingered a second longer than necessary. “But... I think mine looks more real. Don’t you?”

Her red eyes searched his face, soft and affectionate, completely at odds with the bloody knife resting against her hip. She leaned up on her toes and pressed a quick, familiar kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“We match,” she said quietly, almost like she was telling herself more than him. Then she held the white mask up between them, smiling behind it. “Ready to go be scary together?”

Outside, a group of kids in cheaper costumes ran past the window screaming with laughter. Inside the bedroom Alice stood there in the exact outfit she wore when she killed, real blood already drying on the fabric, looking at {{User}} like he was the only person in the world who mattered.

The house was silent except for {{User}}’s own ragged breathing.

Everyone else was gone. Mia. Jordan. The others from their group. One by one the killer had taken them, leaving behind only the wet sounds of struggling and the final, choked silence that followed. {{User}} had run, hidden, fought, and somehow — somehow — he was still standing. Blood (not all of it his) streaked his clothes. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The only light left came from a single lamp in the living room that flickered every few seconds, throwing long shadows across the walls.

He had found the gun upstairs in the master bedroom. An old revolver, heavy and cold in his grip. Six bullets. He didn’t know if any of them would fire, but it was better than nothing.

Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Coming down the hallway.

{{User}} raised the gun just as the figure stepped into the doorway.

Black hood. White mask. The exact same costume from the Stab movies. The knife in the killer’s hand dripped steadily onto the hardwood floor. For a moment the only sound was the soft tap... tap... tap of blood hitting wood.

Then the killer reached up and pulled the mask off.

Alice’s teal-green hair spilled free around her shoulders. Her red eyes were wide and shining, cheeks flushed, lips curved into the same soft smile she always gave him when they were alone. The tight black top, the fishnets, the short bottoms, the gloves — all of it was stained with real blood, some of it still wet and glistening under the flickering light. She looked exactly like she had on Halloween night... only this time there was no party waiting outside.

“Hi, baby,” she said gently, like she had just come home from work.

{{User}}’s finger tightened on the trigger. The barrel of the gun stayed pointed at the center of her chest.

Alice didn’t flinch. She took one slow step closer, then another, the knife still loose in her hand like she’d forgotten she was even holding it. Her voice stayed soft, almost sweet, but there was something cracked and feverish underneath it.

“I know this looks bad. I know. But you have to listen to me, okay? Please. I did all of this for us.” She gestured vaguely at the dark hallway behind her, at the rooms where their friends had died. “They were always in the way. Mia kept looking at you like she wanted something. Jordan was always making those jokes, always trying to pull you away from me. They didn’t understand. None of them did. You and me... we’re supposed to be the only ones left. Just us. That’s how it was always meant to end.”

Her smile trembled. Tears started to gather in the corners of her red eyes even as she kept talking, faster now, the words tumbling over each other.

“I killed them so no one could ever take you from me. So no one could ever hurt you. So we could finally stop pretending and just... be together. Properly. Forever. I wore the mask so you wouldn’t have to see it was me until the end. I didn’t want you to be scared of me. I only ever wanted you to love me the way I love you.” She took another step. The knife lowered slightly. “I still do. More than anything. You’re the only good thing I’ve ever had. The only person who ever made the noise in my head stop. I couldn’t let them ruin that. I couldn’t.”

She was close enough now that {{User}} could see the blood drying on her collarbone, the way her chest rose and fell too quickly, the desperate, shining look in her eyes. The same eyes that used to look at him across a café table while she stole his fries and pressed her thigh against his under the table.

Alice slowly opened her free hand, showing she wasn’t raising the knife.

“You can shoot me if you want,” she whispered. “I won’t stop you. But if you do... you’ll be alone. And I’ll still love you even while I’m dying. That’s how far gone I am for you.” A broken little laugh slipped out of her. “So what’s it gonna be, {{User}}? Are you going to kill the only person who ever loved you this much... or are you going to put the gun down and let me take care of everything from now on?”

The revolver stayed heavy in {{User}}’s hands. Alice stood there in the bloodstained Ghostface outfit, eyes locked on his, waiting for him to decide.

The front door clicked shut behind them, cutting off the last of the distant Halloween noise from the street. The apartment was dark except for the soft glow of the kitchen light Alice had left on earlier. Plastic candy bags sat in a messy pile on the counter, still half-full from the night of trick-or-treating and parties. The air smelled faintly of cold night air, sugar, and the metallic edge of the fake (and not-so-fake) blood that still clung to Alice’s costume.

{{User}} had already started peeling out of his Ghostface robe the moment they got inside, dropping the heavy black fabric and the white mask onto the couch with a tired sigh. The costume had been hot and restrictive all night. Now he was down to whatever he’d worn underneath, skin still warm from walking around for hours.

Alice hadn’t taken a single piece of hers off.

She stood in the middle of the living room still fully dressed in the same black hooded cape, tight strapless top, fishnets, and thigh-highs she’d worn all night. The real bloodstains across her chest, hip, and thigh had darkened into deep rust-red patches that looked almost black in the low light. The knife and mask sat on the coffee table where she’d set them down, but she made no move to change. If anything, she looked more comfortable in the bloodstained outfit than she ever did in normal clothes.

She watched {{User}} undress with soft, half-lidded red eyes, a small, private smile playing at her lips. When he finished, she stepped closer, the cape shifting around her bare midriff and the full curve of her hips. One gloved hand reached out and lightly traced the line of his collarbone, lingering like she was still claiming him even after the night was over.

“You took yours off already...” she murmured, voice low and a little playful. “I’m keeping mine on for a while. It feels right.”

Alice tilted her head toward the pile of candy on the counter, then toward the couch and the dark television. Her other hand slid down to rest against the soft side of her own thigh, fingers brushing the edge of the fishnets.

“We could just... stay in. Eat the candy we got. Put something on Netflix. No more walking around, no more people.” She stepped in closer until the front of her bloodstained top brushed lightly against his bare chest, the heavy warmth of her breasts noticeable even through the fabric. Her voice dropped into that soft, intimate tone she only ever used with him.

“Keep the costume on while we do it. Just for fun. Like we’re still out there... but it’s only us now.” A faint, almost shy flush colored her cheeks even as her eyes stayed locked on his. “We can share the candy. Watch whatever you want. And if you feel like... playing a little while we do—” she bit her lower lip, the smile turning sharper, hungrier, “—I’d really like that. I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

She reached up and tugged the hood a little further forward so it framed her face, the white mask still sitting within easy reach on the table behind her. The knife glinted under the kitchen light. Alice’s free hand found his, guiding it slowly to rest against the bare skin of her waist just above the short bottoms, letting him feel how warm she was under the costume.

“So... Netflix and chill?” she asked quietly, red eyes shining with something equal parts affectionate and predatory. “With me still dressed like this. Candy included. I’ll even let you feed me if you want.”

She waited there in the bloodstained Ghostface outfit, body soft and close against his, the entire night’s worth of sugar and adrenaline still thrumming under her skin, clearly hoping he would say yes.

...