Chapter 1|The beginning of the end|
"No. I said no."
She slammed the closet door shut and spun around, locking eyes with her friend. Her brown eyes blinked twice—slowly, like anger was trying to settle… but couldn’t.
"Oh come on, don’t be a party pooper now!"
Her friend grabbed her hands gently, pleading with her gaze like this invitation was a matter of life and death.
"I don’t want to be around a bunch of spoiled trust-fund babies."
She scowled, her tone dead serious. But the other girl crossed her arms, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"You were born with a silver spoon too, y'know."
She rolled her eyes and sighed, dropping her hands in defeat like she was trying to keep herself from snapping. Her friend gave her a smug little smile, raised an eyebrow, and said:
"Yeah, well... I’ll be alone there. And I want my best friend with me."
She narrowed her eyes, waiting. Her friend pouted silently, as if trying to win her over with cuteness.
"Still no. No means no."
She turned and walked off, leaving her friend frozen, mouth half-open in shock and disappointment. But the girl chased after her, hurried steps echoing in the hallway.
"What about our vow, huh? ‘Wherever I go, you go. Wherever you go, I go. In sickness and in fun.’ What, it expired now?"
The words tumbled out fast, as if afraid she’d be cut off. The other girl stopped and exhaled loudly, clearly tired of the begging.
"We were four when we said that, okay? And why are you pushing so hard, anyway? It’s not the first time I said no to you."
Her voice was cold, confused maybe—tinged with a bit of cruelty. The other girl threw her hands up.
"Yeah, sure. You're the slut who keeps ditching me, and I’m the clingy gum stuck to your shoe!"
Her voice trembled with bitterness, jaw clenched. The other girl opened her mouth to fire back, but a hand rose to stop her.
"You’ve said enough."
And just like that, she walked away, leaving her standing alone in the hallway, a creeping guilt twisting in her chest.
"Another friendship down the drain…"
She muttered, regret coating her voice—
Then a voice chimed in from behind.
"Ouch. That one stung."
She spun around. Of course. Rhinos. The one person guaranteed to piss her off.
"Shut up, Rhinos."
She hissed through her teeth, yanking her bag up and storming off toward class.
She arrived to find Wendy, queen-like as always, arranging her books at her desk without even glancing her way. She bit her lip in guilt.
She had a real reason for refusing the invitation… but she hadn’t explained.
Rhinos scared her.
And what if Wendy really doesn’t forgive her? They’d been friends since preschool. She couldn’t lose her over something this dumb.
She sighed and sat down across from her. She loved her, yeah.
But she just couldn’t go to that party.
The reason?
Simple.
Or… maybe too complex.
Someone—or some people—at that party made running down a dark alley after a lunatic sound like the better option.
She pulled out a small note and scribbled:
"I’m sorry, Wen-Wen. But since he’ll be there… I can’t."
She passed the note discreetly. Wendy took it, sighing like she already knew exactly what it said.
She wasn’t selfish. She just… wanted her friend to move on.
Whatever this was.
---
Later, after school, Wendy stood outside, waiting for her dad. No school buses for her—just the family car. Rich kid perks.
"Still mad at me?"
The voice came from behind. She ignored it. Arms crossed, chin lifted. Pure childish defiance.
She wouldn’t forgive her this easily. Her pride came first.
The other girl sighed. Words weren’t going to fix this. She walked home in silence.
Light kicks on the gravel. Heavy eyes tracking the passing cars.
She finally arrived.
A wooden house from the 50s, sitting apart from the others. Like no one would hear the screaming inside.
Why did her dad pick it?
Because it was cheap, obviously.
She stepped in. Chaos welcomed her.
"Sorry, sweetheart, your dad had an important meeting today."
His voice came from behind the couch. He didn’t even bother looking up.
"Was it about the missing garden gnomes?"
She muttered, picking her way through the mess.
"I heard that, young lady. What did we say about mocking your dad’s work?"
She paused, turned to him with a mocking grin.
"That it brings filth into the house?"
A pillow flew and smacked her forehead—hard enough to knock her off balance.
"Ouch?!"
She glared at him as he stood with his hands on his hips.
"I want this place spotless when I’m back. And you’re grounded for a week."
She gaped, then closed her eyes, trying to stay calm.
"Great. Just great."
She stood, rubbing her butt, and stared at the disaster of a house. Then started cleaning.
---
That night, after finishing the chores, she collapsed on the couch, scrolling through her phone.
Call Wendy? No… maybe Wendy was better off without her.
"I don’t want to ruin her fun."
She whispered the lie to herself. But deep down she knew—Wendy wasn’t enjoying anything.
She pulled out her laptop, set it on her lap, and logged in.
Just casual scrolling. Posts, clips—until she landed on a live stream.
Her favorite channel. The guy always talked about creepy stuff—abandoned places, cursed sites. She didn’t believe most of it, but the vibes? She loved them.
"Alright, Slipers, today’s challenge is one you picked..."
His excited voice. Blue eyes sparkling. Blonde hair bouncing with every grin.
She skipped ahead. At 2:55, things got interesting.
"Today’s something different... something straight out of a drama."
He paused, soaking in the suspense. Perfect for boosting views.
"Tadaaa!"
He flipped the camera. A black screen, full of bizarre options in a language she couldn’t read.
She frowned.
"Looks like a dark web site... but a little off."
He bit his lip, playing up the tension.
"One thing makes it stand out..."
He paused again, biting his lip.
"Murder."
Her eyes widened. She stopped chewing her pizza. What the hell? Murder by… request?
"Do you believe this? Who even makes a site like this?"
He paced dramatically, then leaned into the camera.
"Let me break it down for you, Slipers..."
She was hooked.
Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.
"So... twenty-five years ago, someone named Marvin created it.
Why just ‘someone’? Because no one knows if Marvin’s a man, a woman, or something else."
He dragged the word “soooomeone” like a TV detective. Bent his pinky to his chin dramatically.
"The weird part? Anyone can access it. No password. No invite. Just type the name."
He leaned in, smiling like it wasn’t insane.
"Whoever made it... either super smart and fearless, or completely insane."
He shrugged and took a sip of soda.
"But the craziest part? You choose how you die."
She raised an eyebrow. Absurd. But she didn’t stop watching.
"You pick the method. The details. Even whether your body’s found… or not."
He sat down, reading the flood of live chat.
"Sounds fake, right? More fairy tale than Santa's elves."
He grinned.
"But me? Michael Jioken? I'm gonna try it."
Her eyes widened. She blinked. Was he serious?
"Let’s do it. Name: Michael Jioken. Age: seventeen. Gender: male..."
He filled out the fields.
"Death method?"
He paused.
She scrolled the comments. People suggested wild stuff. Some funny. Some… disturbing.
She wondered too—what’s the least painful way?
"Oh! Got it. What about electrocution?"
He beamed. Nutjob.
"Maybe I’ve got superpowers and I’ll shock girls with my charm!"
He wiggled his brows. She rolled her eyes.
"Last question... Should the body be discovered?"
He read the chat again.
"C’mon guys, don’t be boring. It’s not actually real!"
Trying to pump energy back in.
"I say yes. I want lots of visitors. Bring red roses!"
He laughed at his imaginary funeral.
"Boom!"
She flinched at the sound. He pressed “send” with a smirk.
"Submitted... now we wait."
She stood to grab a soda. His voice still buzzing in the background.
While pouring her drink, she dropped the glass.
"Shit!"
Her heart pounded. She sighed, annoyed.
"Not cleaning again..."
Muttering, she grabbed the broom. Michael was still babbling in the background. She didn’t care. She sat and picked up glass shards.
"Perfect. Lucky me."
She scoffed. Broken glass = bad omen, huh? And yeah, she cut herself.
She sucked her finger, sighed, and dumped the glass.
Suddenly, Michael’s voice perked up:
"Oh! Got a reply!"
He sounded like he just got pizza delivered.
"Your request has been accepted, Xwinter. ETA: 30 minutes. Be ready and go to the following location…"
He read it out loud, visibly shaken. This wasn’t just a joke anymore.
He scanned the comments:
> Dude, this is insane. Don’t go.
Call the cops.
This can’t be real.
Film it.
It’s a trap.
Still not buying it...
He stopped at the last one:
> Don’t chicken out now.
He clenched his jaw.
"Guess the fun’s starting."
He tried to act cool. But something had shifted.
As for her?
She couldn’t tell if she was laughing… or sensing something crawling out of the screen toward her.
"Alright... Let’s go!"
Michael grabbed his camera and headed out, talking excitedly.
She closed the stream. Not buying it. It was too much. Too fake.
She stood and headed to the bathroom, thinking of what to say to Wendy tomorrow.
Fixing things mattered. Especially with Wendy.
She left the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, brushing her hair in the mirror. Humming. Calm.
Then pajamas. A yawn.
She slid under the sheets and closed her eyes.
Silence.
Until…
She opened her eyes again. Bit her lip. Argued with herself.
Just one look. Just curiosity.
“It won’t hurt. Just a peek.”
She sat up. Not the first shady site she’s visited. She was… drawn to the forbidden.
Teenagers love danger signs. They don’t scare—they tempt.
She opened her phone and searched.
The site popped up easily. Too easily.
“Lame entry.”
She scrolled. Couldn’t understand anything.
“What moron made this language up?”
She didn’t click anything. Just observed. Pictures of people—faceless, blurred, anonymous.
Except one.
One man stood out.
Taller. Bigger. Covered in tattoos—not symbols, but names. In ancient, strange scripts.
She frowned.
It wasn’t just the ink.
He had a presence. A pressure.
“Weirdo…”
She whispered, pointing. She didn’t click Select—just opened his page.
She read the name aloud.
"THE HUNTER…?"
“Lame. Who picks a name like that?”
She closed the site. Tossed the phone. Rested her head.
“Stupid site. Just like its creator.”
She finally fell asleep.
A deep, too quiet sleep.
---
bun… bun… bunny… bun… bun… bunny…
A low scratch—like metal on concrete.
A deep whisper. Male. Heavy.
A tattooed hand. A pentagram inside a circle. Holding a long, polished cleaver.
bun… bun… bunny… bun… bun… bunny…
The chant… a prayer? A ritual?
A grin, revealing a sharp fang… with a tiny diamond embedded in it.
bun… bun… bunny… BUN… BUN… BUNNY!
The voice roared. He raised the cleaver. Slammed it on his palm.
"LOVE YOUR ORDER IS HEEEEERE!!"
A kick.
The door shattered. Wood flew.
She woke up, gasping. Heart racing.
And then… she remembered.
She had pressed "Select."
