𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇

𝟏𝟐. 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐩

𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖

Running wasn't the proper term for what you were doing. You were sure that if anyone was still alive to watch you prancing through the forest from afar, the last word they would use to describe it would be a run. Hobbling—you were hobbling in a sordid attempt to escape the horrible sounds coming from behind you

Nick Goode was dead. He just had to be. You listened as he struggled with Tommy before their wrestling match ended in a deafening silence that struck you hard enough to give you whiplash. Nick Goode was dead. You killed Sunnyvale's Golden Boy.

The sports field was wet with dew that licked at your ankles as you made your way across the open space as fast as you possibly could. If you tried, you could make it to the buses before they peeled out of the gravel parking lot. And if you didn't?

You would just have to cross that bridge when you got to it.

"(Y/N)!"

A desperate cry rang out through the silent night and you turned to see Ziggy rushing toward you from the adjacent end of the field. She looked pretty roughed up, even from a distance. Leave it to Ziggy to get herself into trouble as soon as your back was turned.

As she drew closer, you realized that she was waving something in her hand. Behind her, a large landscaping shovel was dragging up the soil in her wake. "Ziggy!" you hissed, looking both ways to make sure that Tommy hadn't heard her shouting and decided to come check it out. If you were lucky, he was still stabbing the life out of Nick—a sentence that you never thought would ever come to mind. 

She came within a few feet of you and you instantly dropped to her height, wrapping your arms around her neck and breathing in the comforting dirty smell of her fiery red hair. "What do you think you're doing out here?" you asked, pulling away to check her over for injuries. She was either miraculously unharmed or it was the adrenaline alone keeping her upright.

"The curse!" Ziggy cried. "It's real! Cindy and Alice got out of the tunnels but...Tommy, he..."

The light in her eyes instantly dimmed and you pulled her face into your chest. You knew they were gone. You would have known even if she never said anything. Streaks of tears ran in rivets across her dirt-stained face. "But...while they were down there, they found this!"

Backing away, Ziggy held out a palm-sized object in the space between you. The moonlight streaming through the clouds above gave you very little assistance in making out what exactly it was. Once your eyes fully adjusted to the dark, you squinted down at it, mouth suddenly agape.

"Ziggy, please don't tell me this is what I think it is."

"It's the witch's hand."

"Of course." The witch's hand was merely an extension of the legend of Sarah Fier, earning itself its own verse in her dark, twisted nursery rhyme. Gently, almost cautiously, you inspected the hand for yourself. It sure looked real. Felt so too. The thought of touching a mummified human hand with your own bare fingers would be enough to make you lose your lunch on a good day. But today was the furthest thing from a good day that you've ever had. "Why do you have this?"

"We need to reconnect the hand with the body," Ziggy explained, drawing the shovel up in front of her and passing it off to you. You wrapped your arms around the handle, trusting it to keep you upright where you stood. She nodded, completely confident in herself. "That will stop the curse. That will make Tommy go back to normal."

"Mhm," you hummed at her little makeshift project pitch. Gesturing down at the shovel, you let it wobble to make a point. "And what am I supposed to do with this?"