SCREAM - THE GHOST OF LONDON

CHAPTER TWENTY

The party downstairs raged on, with music pumping so loudly that the bass seemed to shake the walls. People danced in tight groups, laughing, shouting, and clinking cups filled with cheap alcohol. The lights in the house flickered between dim and vibrant, casting a chaotic glow over the scene as bodies moved in sync with the beat. In the middle of it all, Charlie wove his way through the crowd, keeping his cool on the outside but feeling the tension building inside. His eyes scanned the room carefully, taking in every face, every movement, but his friends had no idea what was really going through his head.

He spotted Joe first, standing near the kitchen with Paris, Olivia, and John. They were talking loudly over the music, casual smiles plastered on their faces as if everything was perfectly fine. Charlie plastered on a grin of his own as he approached them, slipping seamlessly into their conversation.

"Charlie!" Joe called out, raising his cup toward him. "Where've you been, man? Missed you!"

Charlie chuckled, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket as he leaned against the counter. "Just doing a bit of recon," he said with a laugh, making it sound like a joke. But in reality, every step he took around the party had been strategic—checking exits, noting faces, mentally preparing for the worst.

"Recon, huh?" Olivia raised an eyebrow, her glossy hair shining under the flickering lights. "For what? Some girl you're trying to impress?"

Charlie shook his head, keeping the mood light. "Nah, no one like that," he said with a smirk. "Just making sure we stick together tonight. Don't want anyone disappearing on us." His voice was casual, but underneath the surface, his mind was racing. As long as they stuck together, they'd be safe. At least, that's what he told himself.

Paris laughed and clapped him on the back. "You're always looking out for us, Charlie. You're like our unofficial bodyguard."

If only they knew. Charlie smiled at that, but the tight knot of anxiety in his stomach only grew. He glanced around the room once more, his eyes flicking toward the staircase. The memory of Ghostface's brutal attacks from the past haunted him, and even though he hadn't seen anything suspicious yet, he could feel the storm brewing. The night was young, and there was still time for things to go horribly wrong.

"So, what's the plan?" John asked, his eyes already a little glassy from the alcohol. "You guys wanna hit up the back yard? It's packed out there."

Charlie shrugged, playing along. "Yeah, sure. Let's go." But deep down, he knew he wasn't just following the crowd for fun—he was keeping his friends in his sight, making sure they didn't split up.

They grabbed their drinks and began making their way through the crowded living room, squeezing past clusters of people who were too far gone to notice the growing sense of unease building inside Charlie. He could feel it—the air around him thick with anticipation, as if something terrible was just waiting to strike. But he couldn't let his friends know that. Not yet. If they stuck together, if they just stayed close, they could make it through the night.

Charlie led the group outside, where the music from inside was drowned out by the noise of more partiers filling the backyard. He forced another smile, blending in with the carefree energy around him, all the while silently preparing for what he knew was coming. The night wasn't going to end without a fight—he was sure of it—but as long as his friends stayed close, he was determined to keep them safe.

"So, Charlie?" a drunken boy slurred as he staggered toward him, his eyes glazed over. "What's it like knowing this is all happening because of you?"

The question hit Charlie like a punch to the gut. His face went pale, and he instinctively glanced at Kit, unsure of how to respond. For a moment, it felt like the entire party had gone quiet, the drunken laughter and music fading into the background as the weight of the accusation hung in the air.