Scream: A Drake & Josh Story

The Invisible Man

The figure before him wore a black cloak with a white mask, its black mouth and eyes melting off its face like hot wax. Drake knew it wasn't his sister because this person was a bit taller than he was. He felt it immediately in his gut that this wasn't a prank. Despite the danger he knew he was in, he couldn't move. Alarms sounded in his head. His brain sent a jolt down his body and into his fingertips, urging for a response like electric paddles to a still heart. He knew that he needed to run or shield himself or attack, but his fear kept him as still as a corpse. He didn't realize until now just how hard it was to breathe, and the small dimensions of the bathroom didn't help, nor did the dryness that took over his mouth in a matter of seconds. This was actually happening, and even more alarming, it was actually happening to him.

The peril he was in was confirmed when the masked intruder revealed that he was armed with a knife. Without allowing for anymore suspense, he dashed towards Drake.

With just the sink counter, toilet and shower, the bathroom was already cramped, and even more so when it was occupied by one person. Now however, there were two, so the fact that Drake managed to dodge the attack was incredible. They had now switched spots, and Drake was behind the door. Again, the figure came at him, so he leaned back — or, more correctly, threw himself — against the wall to avoid the swipe of the knife. Drake kicked the cloaked abdomen before the figure could get any closer. Tripping over the tub, the killer fell inside, taking the crimson red shower curtain with him.

Drake was so scared that his trembling hands struggled to get hold of the doorknob. The masked man was getting up quickly, although the curtain slowed him slightly. Part of Drake wanted to drop to the floor and curl up with his head hidden behind his arms as if shielding his view of his attacker meant that he couldn't be harmed. Thankfully, the logical side of his brain kept him from folding in on himself and instead forced him to focus on getting away.

Finally, the boy got the door open and ran for the front exit. However, that knob wouldn't turn either, and he remembered locking it just minutes earlier after finding the door wide open. That must be how this psychopath got inside in the first place. Had he not locked the door upon arriving home from school? He couldn't remember, but he'd been so out of it that he wouldn't put it past himself to leave the front door unlocked when his murderer-rapist father was on the loose and looking for revenge.

He started with the chain, which rattled as his trembling fingers slid it through the designated pathway, then he twisted the deadbolt. Movement in his periphery caught his attention: an image of the intruder behind him reflecting in the frosted glass window of the door. He had time to dodge the swing of the knife, then he took off in the opposite direction, unable to find time to twist the final lock. After Audrey's murder, his stepfather had installed these locks as added protection. Never would anyone have guessed that they'd cause more harm than good.

Drake knew he wouldn't make it to the back door injury-free without first getting some separation in between himself and the Michael Myers wannabe, so he took a sharp left into the kitchen. He thought the attacker would have too much momentum to follow and would therefore have to backtrack, giving Drake the space he needed to make his escape, but instead, his assailant met him at the kitchen's other door, which led to the living room. This sudden meeting came as such a surprise to him that, moving too quickly, he collided with the killer. This knocked him onto his bottom, but luckily left him with nothing more than a sore tailbone. He shoved his heels against the floor speedily, as if he was still running, but his slippery socks hindered his progress. The figure stepped closer, and Drake stabbed his bones into the ground more frantically, trying desperately to push himself away.

Next to him was the small dining table he had left so abruptly upon Walter's entrance this morning. He grabbed one of the chair legs and slung it with great strength as a grunt left his lips. This tripped up his attacker — only for a couple seconds, but it was all the time he needed to get onto his feet. Drake turned back and went around the island, standing opposite the stranger now. Despite now having some distance, he didn't feel any safer because he was trapped.