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She’s a nice girl, if you ignore the slight language barrier, of course.
Vee Boonyasak was the newest of your little (huge, and growing) survivor count. She was cute, and nice— If only you knew what she was saying sometimes. Her English was broken, but you could understand her most of the time. She and Kate had quickly bonded despite it, with Kate playing her guitar around the campfire as Vee hit her drumsticks against a wooden stump. You had waved at her too, she make an “ooo” sound while grabbing your clothes, so you assumed she really liked them and that was her way of complimenting you. It was always nice to get someone new, someone who hadn’t been thrown on a meat hook yet, someone who hadn’t had their spirit burdened with the trauma of being killed over and over and over again.
All was well, until the familiar pull in your mind told you a trial was around the corner— and you were to attempt to survive it.
Vee feels it too; you know, because she gasps and grasps her head, shutting her eyes against the invisible intrusion. A wince on Claudette’s face and the way Bill stands with a groan tells you that they are coming with you both. Good! That’s good, you think. It’s nice to have experienced survivors in Vee’s first trial. She’s nervous—you can tell by the way she rubs her hands together, but you all are. Even if Bill covers it up with his rough exterior, even if Claudette tries to stay positive, even with the humor you try to cover it up with— you’re all sweating bullets. You all know this is life-or-death. Some other survivors give you a pitying smile as you move to pick what to bring to the trial. Others seem unfazed. Ace sticks his tongue out at you, the cocky bastard. You stick yours out back.
After your silent play-fight with Ace, you pick your med-kit as your bring-a-long for this trial. With a syringe, of course. You know nothing of the new killer, and you’d rather not find out if they are the type to hold grudges by bringing a flashlight.
Bill is thinking the same thing, but he brings a flashlight anyway. Another cocky bastard.
“So,” he begins, turning to Vee and putting batteries into his dingy item as you all gather, “who’s haunting you, kid? ‘Nother guy with a knife? Woman with a knife? Teens with knives? We have enough of those.”
Everyone looks to Vee, curious about the new killer, of course. No one has the guts to ask who the one tormenting them is when they first arrive. You’ve all been there before, and if someone had the guts to ask you who was following and trying to kill you right after losing your former life, you just might’ve ripped someone’s hair out.
“Umm,” she begins, in her accent, “It’s a woman.” She’s starting to shake, you note, “She was fast, so fast. ‘m sorry, I don’t know—”
She’s cut off by the sound of her own breath, trying her best not to cry as Claudette moves to hug her. She gratefully hugs her back, burying her face in the shorter girl’s shoulder.
Bill nods, eyes closed, and if you knew any better, you would tell him to apologize for making the poor girl cry, but you know what’s coming soon will be so much worse. The first trial against a new killer rarely ends well.
Once she calms down, you all gently explain to her what’s going to happen, what to avoid, and what to do, before a thick fog sweeps you all into the abyss.
~
Opening your eyes, you find yourself in the familiar streets of Haddonfield. You sigh in relief— no new map means no new exploration and confusion when running away and trying to find an exit.
Finding a generator in the middle of the road, you quickly get to work, twisting valves and pushing wires. A faint glow catches in the corner of your eye, and you look down to find a tiny cluster of green mushrooms beside your foot. How curious, you think, as you reach down to pluck it up, just in time to hear a scream that nearly makes you jump out of your skin. It’s not a familiar voice, and you think it might be Vee, until you actually hear Vee scream a moment later. You shake your head, ignoring the pounding anxiety mounting in your chest, and keep your hands busy with the generator. The faster you get these done, the better. You twist knobs and pull wires together until sparks fly, and the generator roars to life under your (somewhat) experienced hands. Despite the bleak conditions, hearing a generator come to life fills you with a newfound drive, and you rush to a house to find another one.
You don’t make it very far until you hear Vee getting thrown on a hook. The ear-splitting scream makes you wince and pull your arms around yourself in an attempt to self-soothe. It’s never easy, hearing those screams. Some try to act oblivious to it, but you know it bothers everyone. These games, these trials, this torture—what did you all do to deserve such cruel fates?
Another generator pops in the distance.
You scratch your plan to find another generator and focus on getting Vee off that hook, located in the middle of the street. You peek your head out—the coast is clear, and you jog over to her. The sight makes you gag silently. She hangs pitifully, the rusted hook running through the meat of her shoulder, blood running in streams down her arm, dripping onto the concrete. Her head is down, and you can hear her sobbing. You stop looking, grab onto her middle, and hoist her off the hook, to which she winces loudly, and you try your best to shush her without sounding mean.
“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright,” you attempt to soothe, grabbing her hand and leading her behind a bush to heal. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay. Look, see this?” You wave the medkit in her sobbing face. Her makeup runs down her cheeks in streaks of black. “This is gonna make you feel a lot better.” You open and dig around in it, pulling out your syringe. You know better than to waste one, but seeing Vee this way makes your chest ache. You want her to feel better fast.
“Shh, here.” You grab her arm and push the needle in before she can protest, pushing down on the syringe to make sure it all goes in. “This will numb it. Just give it a minute. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
Her sobs have gotten quieter, and you see her rub her arm where the needle was. Her face looks less pale by the second.
“There,” you say, a little proud of yourself for helping her. “Feel better?”
She nods, and you're almost knocked down from your crouching position by her throwing her arms around you in a hug. It doesn’t last very long, but she looks eternally grateful.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She pleads, wiping her tears away with a hand, further smearing her makeup. You smile in an attempt to calm both of yourselves down. She has a hand on your shirt sleeve to anchor herself.
Before you can open your mouth to reply, her eyes go wide, and her grip on your sleeve tightens. She’s staring right past you, and when you turn, a woman peers down on both of you from the other side of the bush. She’s beautiful, with dark straight hair and traditional Thai clothing. If you weren’t so close, you wouldn’t notice the red streaks of blood across her neck, streaming down her chest into her clothes. You don’t even see Vee run away, just the sound of shoes on wet grass and her voice heaving as she sprints away.
The woman regards you for a minute longer before she shoots out a hand and grabs you by the hair. You kick and scream.
“No, no!” Her grip is tight, and she’s moving around the bush with a sinister grace, gold chains draped across her, dangling and clinking together. “Please, please!”
You aren’t quite sure what you’re begging for. Maybe for your life, maybe for her to just leave, maybe for the Entity to release you from this retched hell.
When she’s directly in front of you, she hisses, screams, and sheds her own skin, flesh tearing and blood pouring, to your horror. She’s left as a skinned face and entrails, floating in the air. In shock, you can’t move, and she takes the opportunity to shoot an intestine straight through your side. You gasp, lurching forward, when she spins you around and grabs you with the slimy entrails, pulling you up with her and moving to what you assume is a hook, holding you by your neck. You struggle the entire way, squirming in an attempt to breathe, and before you run out of air, you’re dropped onto a wooden floor, gasping for breath on your hands and knees….a wooden floor? You were expecting something more…sharp. And through your shoulder.
You shoot around, sitting on the floor as she looms over you in her grotesque form. Is she toying with you, trying to scare you? It’s working. It shouldn’t be. It’s not fair. You’re tired of these games.
You’re filled with a sudden rage, and right when you open your mouth to berate her, she shoots an entrail into your mouth, down your throat, and you can’t breathe! She’s going to choke you to death, she’s going to kill you, you’re going to die..!
The tentacle comes out as quickly as it shot in, and you lurch forward to heave, black spots dancing in your vision.
She waits until you’re full of air, then does it again.
You fall back, hitting your head against the wooden floor as she twists and pushes her entrail down your throat, the slimy appendage easily sliding down. You attempt to grab it, legs kicking, but it just slips through your hands, the blood and viscera making it impossible to get a grip on it. She pulls it back, and you prepare to take a big breath in, when she pushes it back in, fucking your throat with her entrails. In and out it goes, and you’re choking, you can’t breathe, and it’s going deeper, deeper, and you barely register another going under your shirt, into your bra, sliding itself over your chest. Another slides into your shorts, rubbing you through your underwear harshly, making you struggle and kick even more. What you assumed to be a simple killing turned out to be something much more sinister.
She pulls out her appendage long enough for you to breathe, then fucks your throat again, shallower this time, and another rips your shirt and bra off your body, leaving you topless and exposed on the cold floor. Your hands give up on grabbing her, your nails finding purchase in the wood, scraping and chipping with your strength. She’s looming over you, eyes darting all over your body, hissing in what you assume is a sick and twisted enjoyment.
The appendage in your underwear slides through, flicking over your clit to which you give a muffled lurch and moan, and it quickly slides inside, eagerly fucking as deep as it can. Tears well in your eyes, and as much as you hate the pain, the pleasure is overpowering, her bloody entrail hitting deep inside you, inhumanely fast, and you feel your climax coming way too quickly.
She’s hitting every spot inside you, deep inside you, leaving you to writhe and shake on the cold floor.
She uses the entrails she has left to pull you up, leaving you face to face with her on your knees, as she fucks you in both holes harshly. She hisses, blood spurts onto your face, and your climax washes over you, leaving you shivering and sobbing as she fucks you through it. When you expect her to stop, she keeps going, until a strange feeling pools in your belly and you’re suddenly squirting all over the wooden floor, soaking through your shorts as tears roll down your face. She releases you at once, pushing you onto your back as you cough and heave up blood, and you don’t even have time to open your eyes before she pushes back inside you, this time not through the wound in your side, and pushes in deep, too fucking deep, until you can feel it squirming in your throat.
You blink, and you’re gone, the last image you see being her beautiful face reconstructing itself back together.