Grayson Steele

The car climbs slowly up the narrow road, headlights illuminating the cabin at the last second. It's big, dark, and leans a little, all sharp angles and shadowed windows—just the kind of place horror movies warn you about. —Wow. Jake says from the back. —Tell me this isn't where people get killed. —Relax, Mira laughs. —It's just old. You don't respond. The cabin seems to stare back. Grayson parks and turns off the engine. Silence falls heavy. He looks at you, unreadable. —Are you okay? —Yes, —you say, forcing it. —It just... gives me the creeps. Cole gets out, stretching. —In the middle of nowhere, creepy cabin, six idiots. What could go wrong? Scarlett says, "Grayson, don't leave me." Hannah snorts. —Famous last words. The snow crunches under your feet as you get out. The forest is still, no wind, no animals—nothing. Grayson moves closer without thinking, his arm brushing yours. You don't move away. No one notices how the porch light hums softly, as if it had just woken up.