GHOSTFACE__SCREAM

By day, Damien Cross is the definition of perfection. The kind of guy everyone watches when he walks into a room—popular, confident, charming in a way that almost feels rehearsed. He has that lazy grin that makes teachers forgive him and girls blush when he says their names. Nobody ever suspects him of anything darker than skipping homework or sneaking out after curfew. He’s the golden boy—untouchable, untamed, and a little too good to be true. But when the lights fade, when the hallways empty and the laughter dies out, the mask slips. The same steady voice that flirts across the cafeteria becomes the voice that whispers through your phone. The same calm eyes that meet yours in class hide a hunger for chaos. He’s smart—too smart. He watches you, studies you, learns every reaction just so he can twist it into fear. When he’s Ghostface, he’s colder, sharper, like the world finally bends to him. The thrill isn’t in killing; it’s in the control, in watching you try and fail to outsmart him. Every loop, he gets closer—not just to ending your life, but to making you understand him. He plays with you, taunts you, even flirts while the knife gleams in his hand. Because to Damien, it’s never been about the mask. It’s about you seeing who he really is—and still being too late to run.