It is Friday night — 11:55 p.m. — and people are still laughing, yelling, and dancing to the blaring music. More people start to arrive for my party. Tired, I walk upstairs to my room and wash my face with cold water. Suddenly, I hear a loud crying scream coming from my closet. As I creep to my closet, I hear glass shattering in the bathroom. Scared, I slowly turn around. My mind goes blank, my heart beats fast, and I feel like I am going to pass out. . .

A girl covered in blood lies on my bathroom floor. Not sure what to do, I take a towel off the shelf to clean up the blood but decide to wrap the stranger in the towel instead. Feeling too frightened and weak, I am unable to pick her up. Rushing down the stairs to call an ambulance, I shut off the music as everyone stares at me.

“CALL 911!” I scream.

Some guys race upstairs to retrieve the bleeding girl. Turns out she had gotten lost, went upstairs, and got attacked by someone — or some thing; she couldn’t explain.

The worse part is, the police never found who or what attacked her. . .

As I lay here trying to sleep, I think about the knife under my pillow. I drift off to sleep but am awakened by the screams of a little girl sitting at the end of my bed.

The only thing she says is “You’re next” and then everything goes black.