Chapter 17: The Iron Teeth of Hope

Months Before the Massacre

Thump-thump-thump.

The sound of bare feet hitting the forest floor was drowned out only by the ragged, desperate gasps of a girl running for her life. Her skin was a map of bruises; her clothes were nothing more than blood-stained rags.

She remembered the sound of the hammer. Cling, cling, cling. Back in the House of Horrors, she had found a spark of impossible strength. While the other captives watched in a mixture of terror and awe, she had used a heavy hammer to smash the links of her neck chain.

"The Killer will hear you!" the others had whispered, huddled in the shadows.

"He’s gone to the city," the Brave Girl had hissed back, her eyes wild. "I’m going to get help. I’ll come back for you. I promise."

She had squeezed through the bathroom window, leaving behind her friends—their faces etched with a fragile, dangerous hope.

Now, she was miles into the woods. Her feet were shredded by thorns and stones, but she didn't feel the pain. Her body had gone numb, her brain operating on pure adrenaline and the singular goal of survival.

"I’m almost out," she whispered, her throat parched. "Just a little further."

Snap!

A scream tore from her lungs—a sound so primal it startled the birds from the trees.

She hit the ground hard. She looked back at her leg and felt her soul wither. A rusted metal Bear Trap had clamped shut around her calf. The jagged iron teeth had sunk deep into her muscle, grating against the bone.

Desperate, she tried to pry the jaws open with her bare hands. She screamed until her voice broke, but the more she struggled, the more the trap’s teeth ground into her. Blood soaked the earth, turning the soil into a dark, muddy slurry.

The forest grew quiet. She tried to crawl, but the trap was chained to a massive oak tree. She was a dog on a shorter leash now.

As the sun began to set, she realized the cruelest truth of all: The Killer hadn't missed her. He had let her escape. He had known exactly where she would run. He had led her right into the teeth of his favorite toy.

"I’m sorry," she whispered to the wind, thinking of the girls waiting back at the house. "I’m not coming back."

Her eyes glazed over, staring at the swaying branches above as her life leaked into the dirt.