𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 | 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧 ✅

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐋 𝐎 𝐆 𝐔 𝐄
ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs sʜᴇ

SIX YEARS LATER
OCTOBER 28TH, 2021

JOSH WASHINGTON stood on set, talking to his screenwriter about the changes that needed to be made to the script. Props were littered around him, similar to the fake bodies and props the Lodge held all those years ago; deciding to pursue his love for film, and following in his fathers footsteps, he'd become a director/actor in the aftermath of the incident.

     As brilliant as his acting was, he much preferred to be calling the shots behind the camera—creating a world to be viewed and admired by those who find themselves drawn to all things horror and gore.

     "Yeah, that's great!" He smiled, patting the man on the shoulder. "I can't wait to see what you come up with, Isaiah," he pointed at the man, maintaining his smile. "I know it's gonna be great."

     Just as Isaiah was about to respond, a group of people barged onto set. The commotion caught his attention, the familiar faces falling under his gaze as they rushed toward him.

     "Mr. Washington, I'm sorry. I tried to—"

     "Mike?" He asked, cutting the security guard off with a confused expression. Sending the man an apologetic glance, he quickly assured him that it was okay. "This is my brother-in-law... What's going on?"

     Mike was panting, Emily and Sam behind him with equally heavy breaths. "It's Shy, she's in the hospital—"

     Josh widened his eyes, quickly grabbing his coat and announcing his departure. "That's a wrap for today, everyone!"

     He rushed to his car, quickly following his friends from set. "Hey, Siri. Call Cochise."

     "Calling Christopher Hartley..."

     The line rung twice before his best friends voice echoed through the speakers of his car, "Josh! Hey—"

     "Is she okay?"

     A scream echoed through the receiver, answering his question before his best friend could. He gulped, sweat forming in his hairline as he pushed his foot further onto the accelerator. "I'll be there in thirty."

     He hung up, catching Mike's eye through the windshield. Waving his hand in a circular motion, his friend caught the hint and sped up, both cars weaving through traffic as they rushed to the hospital.

❆

     "Where is she?" He yelled, jogging into the hospital before the others could even get out of Mike's car. "Where's my wife?"

     Chris met him in the lobby, informing the receptionist that this was his friends husband. She quickly printed out a visitors ID and handed it to him, allowing the blond to lead him to the woman's hospital room.

     He swung open the door, leaving Chris and the others to retreat to the lobby. The nurses looked at him, analyzing his panicked state, and quickly dressed him in sterile scrubs.

     Before him lay Shiloh Munroe, dazed and relaxed—a large contrast to what he'd heard on the phone.

     She looked at him with a lazy smile, her eyes half-shut as she raised her hand from beneath the heated blanket; she reached out for him, motioning for him to stand by her. "Hey, Handsome."