Maybe there was something more to the monster. Maybe there was some semblance of humanity under that mask after all. Immediately Meg banished the thought and clutched the drawing a little tighter, quickening her pace into a jog as she hurried to leave. That was ridiculous. He'd been killing her and her friends for god knows how long; there was nothing left there. He was a killer. She glanced down at the sketch he'd given her; in the corner he'd scribbled his name. Evan. [[ An Evan MacMillan x Meg Thomas anthology. All chapters are their own scenes, scattered memory logs that, together, make up a story that revolves around the two and their time in the Fog - and maybe even after. Explicit for later smut, gore and blood, horror themes, sexual themes, etc. There are other mentioned/insinuated pairings and other characters involved as well! ]]