SCREAM - THE GHOST OF LONDON

CHAPTER TEN

Casandra's eyes snapped open at the sound of a squelch coming from downstairs. She rubbed her eyes, sitting up in bed and looking around the dark room. The sound of pellets of rain smashing against the window beside her bed caught her attention. Frowning, she glanced outside. She didn't remember falling asleep, but now it was dark, and the rain was pouring down heavily. The only light outside came from the yellow streetlamp, casting a faint glow on her front pathway.

Her bedroom door was wide open, just as she had left it. She swung her legs off the bed and stood up, stretching slightly before walking across the room. She flicked the bedroom light on, squinting as the bright white light pierced through the darkness. Casandra stepped into the small hallway, which was completely dark. She paused for a moment, listening carefully, then started making her way down the hallway, feeling a sense of unease growing with each step.

"Mum?" she called out, but the silence answered her back. She guessed her mom wasn't home yet.

She walked down the staircase, shivering as the cold air hit her exposed skin. Rubbing her arm for warmth, she looked around the bottom floor. Reaching for the light switch, she flicked it on, and the dim light illuminated the room. She noticed that the side window was open, so she walked over and closed it, then turned on the heater, hoping to chase away the chill.

She turned and looked over her shoulder when the TV suddenly turned on, making her jump. Her heart raced, and her eyes widened with shock as the sound of a movie blared from the speakers. The eerie soundtrack filled the room, adding to the unsettling atmosphere.

"Hello?" she called out softly, her voice trembling. She cautiously walked over to the TV, each step feeling heavier than the last. Her fingers hovered over the remote, which was lying untouched on the coffee table. She glanced around the room, the shadows cast by the dim light making everything look more ominous. "Is anyone there?" she whispered, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in her chest. The only response was the continued playing of the movie, its scenes flickering on the screen.

Emerging from the shadows behind her was Ghostface. Casandra yelped as a hunting knife was brutally jabbed into her throat from the side. The blade went in quickly, then was pulled out just as fast, making her spin around in shock. Blood sprayed across the TV and splattered on Ghostface's mask. The killer stepped back, watching as Casandra stumbled, her eyes wide with horror as she clutched the wound.

She groaned and sobbed, blood pouring down her neck and soaking her shirt. It began to leak from between her teeth as she gritted them in pain. She tried to move away, but her legs gave out. Ghostface watched her, tilting their head as she dropped to her knees and then fell face-first onto the floor.

Ghostface reached up, placed the blade between their gloved fingers, and casually swiped the blood away, the eerie silence of the room settling around them...

Charlie opened his eyes, looking around the room before he shot up from the bed in a panic. He exhaled sharply, beads of sweat running down his chest as he scanned the dark room. He ran a hand through his hair, closed his eyes for a moment, then got out of bed and flicked on the light. The soft sound of rain hitting the window filled the silence as he walked across the room.

He opened his bedroom door, stepped out, and walked down the hallway. He could hear the officers downstairs talking.

"How long ago?" one asked.

"Roughly an hour. They've just finished taking the crime scene photos," the other responded.

Charlie came down the stairs and walked into the kitchen where the detectives were sitting and talking.

"Oh, Charlie. Did we wake you?" Detective Morris asked, noticing him.

Charlie shook his head. "No, you didn't. What's going on?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.