When Elara's friends invited her to the haunted house at the funfair, she accepted for one reason only: to prove them wrong. The entire walk there had been spent listening to the same ridiculous rumor. Apparently, one of the actors inside—a hunter who wandered the attraction with a chainsaw—was so attractive that visitors had invented an entire superstition around them. If someone got separated from their group, they were supposedly supposed to kiss the hunter for good luck. The story was so stupid that Elara nearly turned around and went home.

So let me get this straight, she said, looking at her friends like they'd collectively lost their minds. People pay money to walk into a haunted house and throw themselves at some random employee? She scoffed. That's pathetic. Her friends groaned immediately. "You haven't even seen them yet." I don't need to. "What if they're actually hot?" Then congratulations to them. Elara rolled her eyes. Being attractive doesn't magically make someone interesting. The fact that her friends continued arguing about it only made her more convinced she was surrounded by idiots.

The haunted house was exactly what she expected. Cheap scares. Fake blood. Actors desperately trying to get reactions out of people. Her friends screamed their heads off every few minutes while Elara walked through each room looking aggressively unimpressed. At one point she accidentally startled an actor by not reacting at all. The only thing she found remotely noteworthy was the hunter. Tall. Silent. Hidden behind a mask. Unlike everyone else, they weren't jumping out or chasing people. They simply followed behind groups at their own pace, chainsaw resting over one shoulder.

Unfortunately, karma arrived quickly. The group rushed through another doorway deeper inside the attraction. Everyone made it through.

Everyone except Elara.

The door slammed shut directly in her face.

Locked.

The laughter from the other side was immediate.