Everyone in Peakin knew the story. In 1984, Bobby Simmons allegedly butchered three freshman girls on the last day of his senior year. He swore he was innocent up until his final breath in that electric chair. Of course, the townspeople shamed his parents, and they moved out of Texas altogether. How could they stay in town with the whispers in church or the looks of pity coming from every corner of the Piggly Wiggly?

     Forty years later, the “Massacre Mansion” is the best place for local kids to get up to no good. Just like tonight.

     “Truth or dare?”

     Molly didn’t care to know the answer. She didn’t even want to be there. Not that her wants or needs mattered; they never did in this group. It was Jillie Kane’s world, and she was simply living in it.

     Earlier that night, they’d pulled the oldest trick in the book: telling each parent they were sleeping at the others. Then, with two water bottles filled with vodka stolen from their parent’s liquor cabinet and Diet Coke as a chaser, they piled into the bed of Bradley Hart’s beat-up ‘71 Chevy with Allianna Chase literally chasing behind them. She’d decided at the last minute to join in the debauchery.

     Bradley drove through the quiet streets, blowing every stop sign along the way, smoking with his partner-in-crime, Keaton Dwells, in the passenger seat. Thriving off male attention as usual, Jillie danced to the music blaring through the speakers with the bottle in her hand as if his truck had turned into a nightclub.

     A true testament to their dynamic, Allianna desperately copied every move Jillie made to try and get Keaton’s attention. Molly sat, distressed, hoping they wouldn’t get caught with two of the “hottest” seniors in school. Technically, though, they weren’t seniors anymore. Graduation came and went that afternoon— for them, it was time to celebrate.

     “Dare,” Jillie answered quickly.

     They all sat in the candlelit living room of Massacre Mansion, surrounded by half the school gyrating and grinding, doing their best to ignore the creepiness and let the drunkenness take over. Molly couldn’t get over it, though. Since they’d walked in, it felt like she was being watched. But every time she looked over her shoulder, nothing was there.

     Keaton smirked, “I dare you to take Bradley up to one of the bedrooms and do him.”

     He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be. Jillie’s eyes narrowed at him—she liked to have a good time, but she wasn’t easy. Bradley laughed and tightened his grip around her waist. She wasn’t having it.

     Her attempts to escape his grasp were slightly clumsy; she’d finished most of the first water bottle herself. She got there, though, eventually.

     “You’re both pigs,” she angrily pointed at them before staggering away.

     As always, Allianna and Molly followed, weaving between bodies, carelessly throwing themselves around, clearly fueled by alcohol and fake teenage rebellion. The smell of nicotine, marijuana, and sweat made Molly sick to her stomach. Why did people go to parties in the first place? This wasn’t fun.

     “Them,” she heard a whisper. She felt a chill, and she stopped in her tracks. “Them.”

     Frantically, Molly turned around. The music got louder, as did the heartbeat in her ears. The words managed to break through. Over and over again. Menacingly.

     “Them. Them. Them.”

     She looked over her shoulder and saw three girls standing at the top of the stairs. Their eyes were on her, never shifting and never blinking. The hair on her arms stood up, and she kept trying to get herself to move. She couldn’t.

     “Molly! Come here!” Allianna’s frantic voice finally made her look away.

     When she looked back, they were gone.

     That was it. She had to get out of there and wasn’t leaving without the others. Molly rushed towards her friend, leaning against the wall by the bathroom door. She sighed and looked at Allianna.

     “What could she possibly be doing in there? There’s no running water,” she knocked. They all knew the golden rule of Massacre Mansion. Need to pee? Vomit? Take it outside.

On the other side, Jillie sat in the dirt and grime beside the empty toilet and clutched onto the bowl. Mascara-stained tears were streaming down her face. They first started from the embarrassment, then fell faster as the alcohol eventually caught up to her.

     She ignored the pounding on the door at first.

     When it wouldn’t let up, she yelled, “Go away, Allianna! God! You’re so fucking annoying all the fucking time!”

     Did she mean that? Maybe. It was most likely the mortification of realizing all Bradley saw in her was a whiney, needy girl like she saw in Allianna sometimes. Now, that was humbling.

     Jillie pushed herself up, roughly wiping the stains from her face. She refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her sad, drunk, and pathetic. Jillie fixed her hair in the cracked mirror, tucking her tight black curls behind her ears. Then, she faked a smile into the reflection.

     It faded when she noticed another reflection behind her—a pale woman with wild red locks and too much blue eyeshadow. Petrified, Jillie tried to scream, but a hand that resembled sandpaper covered her mouth. Rough and wrinkly, it burnt as it scratched against her lips. She let out another muffled scream, clawing at the arm around her. But, it was no use. The grip was tight. Suffocating. Jillie’s nails dug in deeper, ripping the skin from the other girl’s knuckles. A black tar oozed into a sloppy, horrifying mess down the front of her dress into a puddle on the floor.

     Jillie had to fight back. Reaching around on the sink for anything she could find, she realized there was nothing to use as a weapon—damn, this abandoned bathroom! The squeaky grind of the faucet handle echoed against the walls; a foul-smelling, crimson sludge poured out violently. This couldn’t be happening.

     As breathing became more and more difficult, she felt lightheadedness set in. The world was spinning, and her throat was burning from trying to scream. Her eyes were glued to the sink basin as it filled with the mysterious mud; she gagged as the smell intensified.

     “You’re so pretty,” the girl purred into her ear.

     Then, in the final assault on her body and dignity, her head was forced under.

     Desperate for air, Jillie’s instincts kicked in, and she took a deep breath. Muck immediately filled her nose and mouth, swimming down her windpipe to fill her lungs. She tried to fight again, but whoever this was had her overpowered. Screaming only made it worse, causing it to fill every crevice of her. She choked and sputtered. Then nothing. Her limp body fell to the floor.

     “Jillie, seriously? Can you please stop being a drama queen for five seconds?” Molly had enough.

     “Them…”

     The voice rang again; she looked around. No one else seemed phased. Was this all in her head? Her eyes again scanned over the other partygoers in the living room. They were still dancing, oblivious. Almost ominously oblivious.

     Allianna had already fled into the backyard. Jillie’s words stung her, and she needed to be alone. As Molly looked around, she realized maybe that was the best idea. Something wasn’t right here. That grew ever more apparent as the dark room around her suddenly began to glow a soft purple.

     The dancing slowed as the music pulsated; Molly could feel the vibration through the rotting floorboards. A brunette in a leather jacket stood in the center. She smiled, causing tingles to move through Molly’s body from her fingertips to her ears. Her chest tightened. It wasn’t nerves but another feeling she couldn’t quite describe.

     Without warning, her feet pulled her towards the girl. As she passed through the crowded makeshift dance floor once more, she noticed their faces. They were frozen in smiles, too. Like they were made of stone, their eyes were black. Still, their bodies moved in smooth, warped motion. They paid no mind to her as she brushed shoulders with them on her way. It should have been unsettling, but Molly couldn’t think of anything other than the girl on the other end of the room. Her beauty hypnotized Molly; the glitter surrounding her was beckoning her in.

     Molly had no idea who she was, but she wanted to, especially as the girl began to move her own hips. Steady. Tempting. Tantalizing. Her body wasn’t moving in time with the music. It was as if she were dancing to a song only she could hear. How that was even possible, Molly couldn’t fathom. The one blaring through the stereo had gotten so loud the whole house was shaking now. Dangerously. The few photos left up of the Simmons family crashed to the ground, and glass shattered everywhere.

     The dancing around her never stopped. Neither did she. She couldn’t. The girl’s stare captured her. Her hands found Molly’s hips, urging her to dance alongside her. Molly smiled back, succumbing to her wishes. Their bodies pressed together, and she lost her breath. Her eyes stayed on the others. They were so blue. So beautiful, like a dazzling pool she wanted to dive into.

     “I’ve been waiting for you,” the girl whispered in her ear.

     It was the same voice she’d been hearing over and over again. That was both comforting and haunting at the same time. But she couldn’t break free. So, she danced, forgetting the troubles around her.

     Meanwhile, Allianna couldn’t. Trouble had followed her outside as she sat on the rusted swing set. Tears streamed gently down her face; the frigid summer night breeze dried them almost immediately.

     “Don’t cry,” A voice like bells spoke beside her.

     She looked to her left. The girl was beautiful, blonde, and doe-eyed.

     Allianna didn’t answer, so the girl continued, “You’re too pretty to cry.”

     “No, I’m not,” Allianna’s doubts were always so loud in her head.

     Her gaze went back to the grass. She heard the rattle of the chains beside her, and the girl was gone. She looked up at the window near the backdoor into the house, furrowing her brow in confusion. The house was empty. Where did everyone go?

     Standing slowly, she took the first step towards the house to investigate when the rattling returned. The chain from the swing wrapped tightly around Allianna’s neck. She tried to shout, but the more she struggled, the tighter it became. Blood spilled rapidly, and when she coughed, more lurched from her mouth and the growing wounds. Her skin ached terribly, and it felt like the chains were ripping through her. Her body rose from the ground; the chain pulled her up higher and higher until her neck snapped.

     “Them…”

     This time, the words came from behind Molly. It shook her free from her trance. As swiftly as they appeared, the lights above disappeared, and the sparkles dimmed. The guests all stood solid in their places.

     Molly turned to face the girl; her eyes were no longer peaceful. They were terrifying.

     Before Molly could run, the girl grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her up the stairs. She pleaded for help to each body they passed. They never budged. The two reached the top in a flash, overlooking the entire scene—statues on the dance floor. Molly’s back was pressed against the railing.

     “You’re so pretty,” the girl stroked her cheek. The tenderness contradicted the malicious look on her face.

     It was the last thing Molly saw before tumbling over. Her classmates' shrieks overpowered the sound of every bone in her body crunching as she hit the ground. When they looked up, there were Keaton and Bradley. Framed, standing in front of the wall that read:

     PRETTY THINGS NEVER DIE