SCREAM - THE GHOST OF LONDON

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Downstairs, the party had significantly died down. The once-crowded house was now mostly empty, with only a few stragglers lingering in the fading chaos of the night. The loud, pulsating music had lowered to a dull thrum, barely audible as it echoed through the large, nearly deserted house.

In the backyard, under the dim glow of a few string lights, two girls were making out by the pool, completely oblivious to the dwindling crowd around them. They leaned against the fence, wrapped up in each other, their laughter occasionally breaking through the soft music. Their movements were uncoordinated, slowed by the drinks they'd had earlier in the night.

Inside, the living room was nearly empty except for a lone, drunk dude slouched in front of the TV. He was half-asleep, occasionally muttering incoherently to himself, holding an empty beer bottle that dangled loosely from his hand. The TV flickered with some forgotten movie that no one was watching, the light from the screen casting shadows across the room. His head bobbed up and down, fighting sleep but losing the battle with every blink.

Upstairs, the atmosphere was different. Charlie and his friends were gathered in the bedroom, their tension palpable. The photo of Tyler still rested on the bed, a silent reminder of the danger that lurked closer than they wanted to admit. Despite the unsettling discovery, the group tried to maintain some sense of normalcy, speaking in low, hushed voices. Joe sat on the edge of the bed, nervously bouncing his leg, while Paris leaned against the dresser, her arms crossed as she tried to process everything. Kit stood by the window, peeking out at the empty street beyond, while Charlie paced the room, clearly deep in thought. The photo of Tyler weighed heavily on his mind, each glance at it sending a fresh wave of anxiety through his body.

They made their way downstairs, the group moving quietly as the remnants of the party played out around them. The living room was dimly lit, the TV casting a faint glow across the room as the lone drunk guy snored softly in front of it. Charlie and the others stepped over empty bottles and discarded plastic cups as they settled into the worn-out couch. The sound of muffled music and the soft clinking of glass was the only thing breaking the silence.

Kit dropped onto the couch beside Charlie and stretched his arms out lazily. "Anyone got any beer?" he asked with a half-smile, looking around the group.

Paris rolled her eyes and shook her head, leaning back against the armrest. "Pretty sure most of it's gone by now," she replied.

Joe glanced over at the kitchen but didn't make a move. "There's probably some left in the fridge, but I'm not getting up to check," he joked, though his expression was tense.

As they settled into the lounge, Olivia's phone suddenly rang. She pulled it out and frowned at the screen before answering, lifting a finger to her ear to block out the remaining noise. "Hey, one second," she muttered into the phone before slipping out of the room and walking down the hallway, her voice fading as she moved further away.

Charlie watched her disappear down the hallway, his brow furrowing in thought. Something about this whole night felt off. He sighed heavily, sinking back into the couch as he ran a hand through his hair. Everything was starting to feel like it was spiraling out of control, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep his friends safe. The feeling of unease gnawed at him, but he tried to push it down, focusing instead on the low hum of conversation between his friends.

Charlie glanced around the room, his eyes darting from face to face as he tried to read the expressions of his friends and the few strangers left at the party. Each of them was a potential suspect, a possible mask-wearer hiding behind a friendly smile. His gaze moved from Joe, who was half-watching the TV, to Paris, who was fiddling with her phone, and then to Kit, who was casually leaning back on the couch.