"Casey, will you marry me?"

Taking a deep breath, Riley places a flat palm against his brow as he lowers his head. His car remains in idle, the engine slightly humming as he sits in the middle of Casey's drive. The headlights are cut off, the only light coming from the street lamps and the moon hanging overhead.

As well as Casey's bedroom window.

He practices again, this time taking a more apologetic approach. "Casey, I'm really sorry I hurt you. I just—" The words slip from his mind as the familiar, petrifying feeling overcomes him yet again. "Damnit, please just put this ring on your finger and say yes!"

Seeing slight movement out of the corner of his eye, he glances up to see a shadow cross in front of the open curtains. His eyes gaze downward to stare at the diamond glistening from the silver ring he holds squeezed between two of his fingers. Engraved on the inner core of the ring is an infinity symbol, their initials inscribed in each of the small loops. It matches perfectly with the necklace he had given her weeks ago, as it should considering he had bought them in a set.

Taking off his jacket, he tosses it over his shoulder and into the backseat. He grabs the rearview mirror, twisting it to face him as he makes a quick, feeble attempt to fix his messy hair.

Casey passes by her window again, feeling as if she is set on a broken loop as she walks back and forth between her dresser and the bed. She digs through the second drawer of her dresser, trying her best not to pay too much attention to any of Riley's belongings as she picks them up in small piles and carries them over to her bed to place them in a nearly full cardboard box.

Although deep down she really just wants to break everything—hell, even burn them in the fireplace downstairs—she can't do it. She sets each item gently into the box as if it were her own.

She comes across a picture they had taken at one of the photo booths at the Riverside Mall and a tear forms in her eye as she reminisces on that day. It was taken not more than a week after her break up with Morgan and, at the time, she was still shaken up by the fact that she had discovered he was cheating on her with multiple girls. It was the first time she had ever bonded with Riley as he had taken her out to so many places to distract her. Although she assumed it was him just being friendly, looking back now it was obvious that he liked her more than a friend. For some reason, she just couldn't open her eyes to notice. Slowly, she feels the small crease she had accidentally made on the lower right hand corner when she had shoved it into the box.

An impulsive urge of resentment overcomes her and, the next thing she knows, shreds of the small photo drift through the air as they land on her comforter. She looks down at what's left of the picture, not as satisfied as she thought she would feel looking upon it. Instead, it begins to seep in that they are as ripped apart as the photograph.

Shaking her head, she wonders how it had all come to this. Part of her is exhausted of all of the fighting but, on the other hand, she has always believed that some things are worth fighting for. She suddenly reaches down to grab a handful of Riley's things out of the box, quickly taking them back to the dresser to shove them inside the drawer where she found them.

Nervously, Riley feels his arms tremble as he cuts through the yard to approach the front porch of Casey's house. He reaches the door and raises a closed fist to it—freezing up before he can gather the courage to knock.

Sighing, he takes a deep breath and looks down at the small black box in his left hand. He looks back at the door and, instead of knocking, slowly backs away. Feeling pathetic, to say the least, he turns around to quickly walk toward his car but stops halfway.

He turns around to face the house again, his eyes watering as he stares up at Casey's bedroom window. He slowly approaches the porch but, before he can even make it to the steps this time, finds himself terrified. More than the night of the bus accident. More than the night Casey and Peyton were attacked. He's never felt so scared—so vulnerable—in his entire life.

Not sure if he is capable of handling the rejection, he walks back to his car and makes sure to get in it this time. He climbs inside, slamming the door shut behind him. He glances down at the open box quivering in his hand, mixed feelings swarming through his mind.

"What the hell are you doing?" He mutters to himself, realizing that in the short amount of time the two have been together they have been through more than what most couples would experience throughout the course of their entire relationship. Not to mention, he has missed too many opportunities to let another one pass him by. Closing the lid of the box, he places it in his left hand and reaches for the door handle.

The car rocks gently. Startled by the sudden motion, he looks over to see his jacket—the one he had tossed in the backseat earlier—now lying curled up in the passenger's seat. His eyes widen but, before he can make the slightest movement, an arm reaches around the headrest and wraps tightly around his neck.

Squirming in the seat, he struggles to break free from the person's grip as his feet kick helplessly against the floorboard. All he can see of the figure is the black sleeve of their sweater as he tugs at it, attempting to rip the arm from his neck as it tightens around his throat. Gasping for air, he reaches up and his fingers are barely able to graze against the rearview mirror, tapping the edge of it to aim it downward.

The white mask tilts up as the killer, for a brief moment, stares at him through the reflection in the glass. Riley reaches behind the seat in an attempt to hit him but—before he can—the killer leans forward and, with a quick twist of his arm, pulls himself over the console as he plunges his hunting knife into Riley's upper chest. With swift movement, he pulls the blade out and stabs him again in the same area.

The killer's arm loosens around his neck as he retreats to the backseat. Gasping for air, Riley applies pressure with his right hand to the wounds as he reaches for the door handle with his left. Somehow, the box is still squeezed in his left palm as he clenches tightly onto it. The second his fingers graze against the metal handle, his head is pulled up by his hair and—through his own reflection in the rearview mirror—he can see the blade as the killer thrusts the knife into the side of his neck.

Blood immediately begins to drip from the corner of his mouth as the tip of the blade exits through the opposite side of his neck, Riley helplessly wheezing for air as he still manages to grab the handle and push the door open. He pulls himself out of the car, the blade sliding back out of his throat as he tumbles to the pavement below.

In her room, Casey closes the dresser drawer as she has finally finished putting back Riley's belongings. Pulling her hair back behind her shoulders, she turns to walk over to her nightstand and picks up her phone from on top of it.

To her surprise, she sees no new texts or calls from Riley. Sighing, she opens up a new draft but isn't quite sure of what to say. She lifts her head to stare forward at the window above the nightstand as she contemplates on whether or not to text him. It overlooks the front yard but, since her bedroom light is on and it's nearly pitch black outside, she can't see anything through the glass. Instead, she peers at her own reflection.

Crawling on the ground, Riley can feel where the pavement ends as his hands suddenly dig into the dirt. He pushes himself up in the grass, attempting to stand to his feet, with his eyes locked on Casey's house. He takes a step forward but, as his legs grow weak from the substantial blood loss, he quickly falls back to the ground with a thud. His shirt, especially the collar, is saturated in a thick layer of crimson red as the blood continues to ooze down his neck.

He can see Casey on the other side of the window and, for a moment, it looks as if she is staring straight at him as the light from her room casts out onto the grass in the shape of a long, stretched-out rectangle. Attempting to talk, blood seeps out of his mouth as he reaches his arm out to her. His voice is nothing but a distorted stutter. "Casey..."

The back door on the passenger side of his car opens, the killer's boots slowly easing to the pavement as he exits the car to pursue Riley.

Pulling himself up again, Riley finally manages to get to his feet. He stumbles forward, not even ten steps from the light, when he feels the gloved hand clench onto his shoulder. He swings his arm backwards but, in his weakened state, isn't fast enough. The killer dodges the swing and, by his tightening grip still on Riley's shoulder, pulls him back into the blade of his knife.

Quickly, the killer pulls the blade out and stabs again, this time closer to the spine. Grunting, Riley pulls himself away—the blade sliding out from his back as he takes another step toward the light. Suddenly, he feels a slice in the back of his upper tight and he tumbles back down into the dirt as the killer towers over him.

Crawling helplessly, Riley can feel his body grow cold from the blood loss. His fingers finally reach the light just as—suddenly—it's cut off. He gazes up at the window to see Casey is gone.

The killer grabs onto his shoulder yet again, flipping him over to his back as he crawls on top of Riley and pins him to the ground.

The box finally falls from Riley's grip, landing no more than a foot away. His eyes swelling from the excruciating pain, Riley squirms in a weak attempt to break free. At this point, all of his strength is gone. He can barely lift his head, let alone fight back.

Perhaps enjoying this too much, the killer stares down at him tauntingly as he knows that he had won. There's no way Riley can escape him. Not now. Slowly, the killer places the tip of the blade onto Riley's abdomen and pierces it into his chest. Unable to scream, Riley cries as he gasps for air—blood continuing to spit out of his mouth uncontrollably. His arms slap at the killer's mask but the hits are no stronger than that of a child's.

Twisting the knife, the killer pulls the blade out and examines the blood coated on it all the way up to the handle. His mask slightly lifts above his widening smile as he peers back down into Riley's pleading eyes.

He lifts the knife again, arching the blade at a higher angle. This time... aiming for the kill. The knife trembles as he marks his precision and underneath his mask he takes a heavy sigh, perhaps of relief.

Suddenly, a cloud of dirt surrounds the two as an ear-splitting bang fills the air. Riley, on the verge of slipping unconscious, is unable to look in the direction of the noise. The killer, on the other hand, aggressively lifts his head to stare at Casey standing in the open doorway on the front porch—a handgun squeezed between her two hands. Smoke billows from the nozzle.

Without hesitation, she pulls the trigger again. More dirt goes flying, along with the killer as he jumps backwards to dodge the shot. Watching her as she fearlessly walks down the steps of the porch, he backs up toward the neighbor's fence before turning around to run away.

She fires one last shot, hitting the fence, before looking down to see Riley sprawled out on the ground soaking in a massive puddle of his own blood. As she quickly runs to him his squinted eyes immediately widen and, with what little energy he has left, his arms reach out to her.

"Oh my god, Riley!" Casey screams, immediately crying as she falls to her knees beside him. She scans his body, seeing his clothes drenched in the dark red liquid that continues to seep from his neck and chest, and reaches down to apply pressure to his neck. She looks around to see if the killer is still nearby and, not concerned with her own safety at this point, drops the gun so she can use both hands to cover the each side of the neck wound. Blood gushes through her fingers as he attempts to talk. "Shh, don't talk. Don't talk."

Riley is able to get out one word, trying his best not to choke on his own blood. "Run..."

His eyes drift upward, staring up at the sky, before his eyelids finally close. He wheezes with each slow breath.

"Riley!" She screams, using one hand to lightly press against his shoulder in an attempt to wake him. "Riley, don't close your eyes goddamnit! Stay with me!"

"Casey...?"

She turns around to see Peyton, shaking in her pajamas on the front porch.

"Peyton, call the police!" Casey screams through the tears. "Stay inside and lock the door!"

Seeing the blood on Casey's shirt, Peyton stumbles back into the house. She quickly slams the door closed and locks it, listening to her sister. As she dials 911 from the landline, she watches through the living room window.

Riley's body stops trembling. His chest expands slower and slower with each second, as if he is running out of breath. Casey uses her shoulder to wipe the tears flooding down her cheeks, not knowing what more she can do as she stares down at him. "Riley, please stay awake. Please don't leave me!"

Slowly, her eyes drift to the left to see a black, leather box lying on the grass just inches from Riley's extended fingers. She immediately guesses what it could be. "Riley..."

His chest stops moving.

♫ ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ sᴋʏ / ᴄɪᴠɪʟ ᴛᴡɪʟɪɢʜᴛ ♫