Chapter 18: The Mirror and the Mask

The Day of the Massacre

The third-floor hallway was a lake of red. Inside the classroom, the scene was a slaughterhouse.

Vaani was pinned against a wall, her eyes wide with a horror that transcended tears. She watched as Priya—the girl she had shared secrets with, the girl she had laughed with—swung an axe with the mechanical precision of a butcher.

Outside the window, Rekha huddled on the ledge, her hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her whimpers. She could hear the rhythmic thud of the axe and the wet, gargling sounds of her classmates.

"That’s not Priya," Rekha whispered to herself. "That cannot be Priya."

But it was. Priya stood in the center of the room, drenched in gore, her breathing heavy and satisfied. She didn't look like a girl who had snapped; she looked like a girl who had finally come home.

The Pact in the Dark

Four Days Before the Massacre

In the "Black Void" of her mind, the Killer waited. He watched through Priya’s eyes as Karthi slapped her on the beach. He felt the cracks in her psyche widening like a shattered mirror.

When the mirror finally shattered, the Killer didn't just step through—he took the wheel.

Katthi, the scarred giant with the cold mask, had seen it happen. He had been stalking Priya for weeks, obsessed with her. One night, he had watched her through her bedroom window. She wasn't sleeping. She was standing before her mirror, touching her own skin with a detached, clinical curiosity.

When she turned and looked directly at him, Katthi had fled in terror. He thought he was the predator, but the look in her eyes had made him feel like prey.

The next day, she had come to his door.

Katthi had trembled, wearing his mask to hide his "ugly" face. "Priya... I didn't mean to... I love you..."

Priya didn't scream. She didn't call the police. She walked into his room, looked at the wall covered in her stolen photos, and slowly removed his mask. She looked at his scarred, pitted face without a hint of disgust.

Then, she began to strip.

"Hit me," she commanded.

Katthi was confused. "What?"

"Slap me. Harder."

When he finally obeyed, she didn't cry. She smiled—that same creepy, wide-eyed grin of the man who had died in the Jeep. She forced Katthi to his knees and began to beat him, enjoying the sound of his pain.

In that moment, Katthi didn't see a girl. He saw a god. A dark, violent god he was willing to serve.

The Return to the House

A few hours later, a motorcycle roared up to the House in the Forest.

The captive girls inside heard the engine and felt a jolt of lightning-fast hope. "She’s back! The Brave Girl brought help!"

The door was kicked open. But it wasn't a rescue team.

It was Priya. She stood in the doorway, her eyes cold as ice, holding the severed, rotting head of the "Brave Girl" she had found in the Bear Trap. She tossed the head onto the floor, where it rolled toward the feet of the horrified captives.

"Did you miss me?" Priya asked, her voice a perfect imitation of the original Killer’s rasp. "Still alive, my little slaves?"

The hope in the room didn't just die—it was executed.