Water splashes restlessly against the logs holding up the base of the pier, as if a sudden gust of wind had broken its placid state. Glaring through the small ripples, the cabin continues to burn across the lot and—probably in just a matter of minutes—it will soon be nothing but a pile of dust and embers lost to the breeze.

"Taylor!" Morgan kneels down next to her, lightly caressing her shoulders as he scans her body for any injuries. Blood covers her clothes, but he quickly realizes that it's not her own. "Are you okay?! It's over..."

Still in a state of shock, she stares forward at the trail of crimson red tracking through the mud as it leads into the field of grass ahead of them. After what she had just bared witness to, she knows that this is not over. As much as she wants it to, it can't be. There's too much left unanswered. Stuff that just doesn't make any sense. Unable to speak, she slowly nods her head to provide him with a false sense of comfort. Not enough to fully put him at ease, but hopefully enough to keep him from losing his shit. That is, if he hasn't already.

His grip tightens on her shoulders. "We have to get you out of here. Come on, let's—"

A muffled cough startles both of them and Taylor feels something brush against her hands. Her head hastily tilts downward to look at Marc, a smile spreading across her face as she sees him bat his eyelids. His chest expands once again, a wheeze travelling through his slightly parted lips.

"Marc!" She cries excitedly, still using one hand to apply pressure on his wound while she lightly touches his cheek with the other. "Marc, it's going to be okay!"

As if on cue, sirens can suddenly be heard as they wail in the distance. Morgan rises to his feet and immediately spots the red and blue lights glimmering through the long strip of trees on their right, the flare sending an eerie reflection through the heavy sheet of fog surrounding them.

"Stay here." He commands protectively and, within seconds, he bolts through the lot as if he were back on the football field at one of the Riverside tournaments. In an attempt to remain inconspicuous, he left his Mustang parked along another dirt path trailing behind the main lodge. So Marc's car will just have to do.

Not paying him or the remote sirens much attention, she focuses mainly on Marc as he regains consciousness. His eyes finally open all the way, staring into hers, and he attempts to talk.

She shakes her head, knowing that he needs to reserve what little strength he has left. "Shh, you need to save your energy. It's alright. Help is on the way."

Morgan finds the driver's door already opened and his eyes are drawn to the glass shattered across the dashboard from the broken passenger window. That, on top of everything else he has seen tonight, is another indicator that his sister has gone through hell. Good thing he showed up when he did. But if only he could have arrived sooner.

Turning his head, he sees the emergency lights as squad cars continue to barrel down Shady Grove. It's just a matter of time before they pass the easily overlooked turn to the campsite. He slams his hand down in the center of the steering wheel, the car horn echoing as it disturbs the once tranquil area. With his free hand, he grabs the end of a lever behind the wheel and twists it back and forth, flicking the car's headlights on and off to draw the attention of the police.

Trying her best to ignore the deafening clamor, Taylor clasps tightly onto Marc's hands as she peers down into his eyes. She sniffles, using her shoulder to wipe at the tears tracking through the stained blood on her cheek. "I should have told you. About everything. I'm so sorry, Marc."

His mouth opens further, but he's still unable to form a word.

"I'm sorry." She repeats, her eyes watering even more. "This is all my fault. It was my decision to drive away that night. I thought I was doing the right thing to protect Morgan. I just... I didn't want to see him get hurt. But by doing that, I hurt so many other people. Especially you. And I don't know what else I can say, other than I'm sorry."

She glances up at the trees to see that Morgan's idea had worked. The red and blue lights are now closer as the police cars wind through the narrowing trail leading to the camp. Morgan continues to slam on the horn, repeatedly flashing the headlights of the car.

"It's going to be okay." She forces a reassuring smile as she looks back down at Marc. "We're going to be okay."

Through his impaired vision all he can see are faint blurs, drifting further and further away from view. Even her voice, as well as the commotion surrounding them, slowly seems to be drowning out.

A twig snaps, followed by a sudden rustle in the tall grass in front of them, and Taylor rapidly lifts her chin as she stares forward. She tries to concentrate past the blaring horn, listening for any movement, but doesn't hear a thing.

The headlights flash off again, leaving them in near pitch black. As they flip back on, a dark figure lifts up from the overgrown grass—a silhouette of a thin man with something hanging from his back. His arms twist behind him, reaching for the handle of what appears to be an axe, when—

The lights cut off.

Taylor's eyes widen as she pulls away from Marc, slowly rising to her feet in an attempt to see through the darkness ahead of her. She hears slight groaning—just as the lights flick on—and nearly stumbles back into the dirt when she sees the black figure, still shadowed by the beaming headlights, hurriedly approaching her with the axe now in its hands. Once again, the lights turn off.

She gazes over at the shotgun, still resting in the same spot a few feet to her left. Without hesitation, she runs for it. Just as the lights flash back on—

Revealing Garrett, with blood drizzling down his chin, as he steps out of the field. Screaming angrily, he wields the axe and charges in her direction.

Taylor tumbles into the mud, her fingers barely able to reach the shotgun as she snags it up by its grip, and rolls to her back—at the same time he swings the blade downwards. She closes her eyes and pulls the trigger, just as Morgan kills the headlights.

After a blinding flash momentarily gleams from the muzzle of the gun, darkness again consumes them.

The emergency lights flicker on the outside walls of the cabins as the police reach the campgrounds and, shocked by the unexpected gun blast, Morgan freezes for a moment. His fingers graze against the knob before twisting it, the headlights flipping on as they glare anew through the lot—revealing two bodies lying next to each other across from Marc. He quickly climbs out of the car to get a better look, struggling to breathe as he recognizes Taylor... and what appears to be an axe sticking out of her lower chest.

"Taylor!" He screams, quickly dashing across the field as several squad cars pull up next to Marc's. He can hear the car doors slam shut as officers exit their vehicles, a few even yelling at him to stop running. He ignores them. "TAYLOR!"

Coughing, Taylor's eyes peel open. She gazes down, seeing that the shot had sent her sliding back about a foot in the mud. She pushes the shotgun from her chest, smoke still drifting from its muzzle, and allows it to drop to her side. A sudden sharp pain channels through her shoulder and she rubs at it, the recoil of the gun so strong that its stock nearly dislocated the joint from its socket. Her eyes gaze to her right and immediately widen when she spots the axe prodded into the ground, its steel blade buried deep into the soil no more than a few inches from her stomach.

Gradually, her focus adjusts to a figure lying across from her on the other side of the wooden axe handle. The gory remains of Garrett's head—a twisted mix of red and pink chunks of flesh on top of shattered bone fragments—face her.

A reoccurring thought crosses her mind. Although it may look it, she can't shake the feeling that this is far from over.

♫ ʟɪᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ (ᴀᴄᴏᴜsᴛɪᴄ) / 12 sᴛᴏɴᴇs ♫