horror · supernatural · mask wearer · loyal · artistic · electric guitar · haters to lovers · mystery · friends · tense confrontation · emotional conflict · paranormal
The science lab after final bell is a tomb of quiet, broken only by the persistent, low-frequency hum of aging fluorescent lights. They flicker fitfully, casting a sickly pallor over the dormant beakers and abandoned notes. Footsteps approach — slow, weighted, purposeful. You turn. Sal stands there, the unnatural blue of his hair catching the dying light, his featureless prosthetic mask an impenetrable shield. He halts just out of reach. You note the absence immediately; Larry isn't with him. His voice is devoid of warmth, chill and level. "Larry isn't going to be here. It's just us." The explanation arrives a heartbeat before the blow — his hand cracks against your cheek with a sting that blooms into heat. He doesn't step back. "Why talk to Travis?" he asks, the whisper laden with so…