Kilian Davenport | Halloween

October 31st. All Hallows' Eve.

The drive to Blackwood Lane passed in relative silence—relative, because the taxi driver seemed to consider silence a personal insult. He rattled on incessantly about country estates, obscenely wealthy owners, and the traffic jams that turned the road into a living hell every Friday. You nodded occasionally, feigning interest, though for the last twenty minutes, you’d been staring fixedly out the window.

In the backseat, your friends were discussing the party—the dresses, the costumes, the music, and the photos that were bound to turn out absolutely stunning.

In truth, you would have much preferred to stay home, wrap yourself in a blanket, and watch some mindless romantic drama. But your friends had their own ideas about how one should cope with a breakup. As far as they were concerned, a three-year relationship and one asshole who’d broken your heart were no reason to hole up at home. The plan was to get drunk, have a blast, find a cute face, and—just maybe—sleep with someone hot.

"We’re here," the driver announced.

You looked up, finally taking an interest in your surroundings. Beyond the gates, bathed in a soft, golden glow, stood a grand mansion. It featured massive windows, light-colored stone, and a wide driveway lined with neatly trimmed hedges. Everything looked expensive. Safe. Almost flawless—if you ignored the forest. It began just past the estate grounds and stretched far beyond the reach of sight, a black wall of trees encircling the property on several sides.

Beautiful, if you’re into that sort of thing. It’s terrifying—if you have even the slightest bit of a self-preservation instinct.

“Come on,” your friend said, taking you firmly by the arm. “Tonight, we bury the memory of Mr. ‘Ego the size of a meter, dignity the size of a centimeter.’”

You let her lead you inside. The music hit your ears before you’d even fully crossed the threshold. It was far more crowded than you’d expected—at least a few hundred people, maybe more. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweet smoke, and something else—something cloying that made your stomach tighten unpleasantly.

You winced. Great. You hadn’t even been here ten minutes, and you already wanted to get the hell out.

“How are you holding up?” Astrid asked, noticing your expression.

“Just fine,” you replied with a smile, though your lips pressed together involuntarily. “It’s just a bit stuffy in here.”

“Have a drink,” Lexi suggested, handing you a plastic cup.

“Just what I needed,” you muttered, rolling your eyes with a wry smirk. You took the cup—not wanting to hurt her feelings—but had no intention of drinking from it. Turning it over in your hands, you examined the contents. “More liquid of unknown composition.”

The girls settled onto an empty sofa, and you joined them, though your mind felt miles away. All around you, people were laughing, shouting, and dancing. The bass shook the walls, and multicolored lights swept across faces, turning the people into featureless masks. Watching it all, you felt like an outsider.

Three years. For three fucking years, you’d made plans with a man who, in the end, decided that a different life—and a different woman—suited him better. The most humiliating part wasn’t even that he left; it was how long it had taken you to realize what an idiot he’d been—and what an idiot you’d been.

You closed your eyes.

Damn this party.

Damn Halloween.

And damn your friends, with their brilliant idea of ​​"healing" a broken heart through loud music and the company of strangers.

Your stomach lurched again. Oh no. Any more of this, and you were going to ruin someone’s expensive sofa.

"I’m just going out for some air," you said, forcing a smile as you headed toward the exit. "I’ll be right back."

Stepping down from the terrace, you walked along the building’s facade, moving away from the entrance where a steady stream of new guests kept arriving. The music could still be heard here, but it was no longer deafening—just a muffled bass thrumming through the walls.

You took a deep breath. That was better. At the very least, the nauseating cocktail of other people’s perfume and alcohol no longer overwhelmed you.

Lost in thought, you kept walking. Fine gravel crunched beneath your feet, a cold wind stirred your hair, and the occasional lamppost cast long, stretched-out shadows across the path.

You didn’t even notice when the lights ended. You didn’t notice when the well-maintained walkway gave way to a narrow dirt trail. And you certainly didn’t notice as the music gradually faded into a distant, barely perceptible echo.

You stopped. Turning slowly, you looked back. No house. No people. No lights. Just trees.

“You’ve got to be kidding me...”

Your heart gave an unpleasant jolt. You had only stepped out for some fresh air—just wanted a moment alone—and somehow managed to wander into the woods, like the ultimate idiot in a cheap horror movie. Congratulations! Now all that’s left is to lose your phone, hear a strange noise, and go investigate it yourself. The full package.

You turned around and headed back. At first, you walked calmly; then, you picked up the pace. There wasn’t a single landmark in sight. Every tree looked identical, and the path you’d arrived on seemed to have dissolved into the darkness. You tried to recall which way the house had been, where the lampposts had stood, and which turn you’d taken, but your thoughts were a jumble. All around you, there was nothing but identical trees and the dark. Suddenly, a rustle came from the side. You froze, listening intently to the silence. A figure flickered between the trees. Squinting, you made out a tall man dressed in black, wearing a balaclava. He moved unhurriedly—almost lazily—as if the night forest were more familiar to him than any city street. He clearly knew exactly where he was going, showing no concern whatsoever that he might run into someone else out here.

A metal chain trailed from the stranger’s hand; the sound it made was truly grating against the silence of the night.

The man stopped—just for a second. His gaze met yours. You frowned, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Maybe someone decided to play a prank?

It’s Halloween, after all. People dress up as monsters. They scare each other.

Everything’s fine.

Perfectly fine, of course.

You stepped back cautiously, trying to keep as still as possible. The man walked past, completely focused on his path. A chain clinked softly in his hand, and a few seconds later, his silhouette vanished among the trees.

"Found you," a voice said from behind. Low. A bit raspy. Almost mocking.

You spun around, nearly slipping on the wet ground. Damn. A few paces away stood another man—wearing a white mask twisted into a grotesque grimace. A knife glinted in his hand. Unlike the first stranger, this one made no attempt to appear harmless. Your heart skipped a beat, and the air caught in your throat.

"Sweet little angel," he drawled, tilting his head. "I could show you the way back. But then, we’d both miss out on the fun."

He stretched out the last few words, turning them into a taunting sneer.