Page 1 of Girl, Deceived

PROLOGUE

Jessica Owen left the party with little to show for it. She hadn't met anyone worth meeting, nor did she consume enough alcohol to make the trip worthwhile. Overall, it had been a waste of a Sunday night, so now she was braving the morning hours en route back to her apartment.

The party, held during these balmy summer months, had sported an unusual twist – it was a fancy dress affair. Jessica couldn't help but question the inclusion of such a gimmick in the sweltering heat, as elaborate costumes clashed with the season's casual and carefree vibes. Nevertheless, she decided not to dwell too long on the curious choices of the party's hosts, choosing instead to direct her thoughts towards the wide-open expanse of college-free weeks ahead.

Jessica turned and took the scenic route down Willow Street, edging along the river bank to admire one of the few natural beauties Maywood still had to offer. She’d lived in this fair city for three years, and in that time, she'd come to learn that Maywood was a poor man's Hollywood. This was the place where the creatives settled once the big leagues had spat them out, or where dreamers came hoping to catch a break without facing the ruthless competition of Tinseltown. Despite its reputation, Jessica held a deep affection for Maywood, for its underdog spirit and its stubborn resilience.

As she strolled, Jessica eyeballed the remnants of an old abandoned film set, its wooden skeleton something of a local haunt and magnet for wannabe explorers. Now draped in ivy and moss, the row of shacks and artificial cornfield had become part of the riverscape. It had been years since Jessica last ventured there, on a dare with her friends when they were still teenagers. The tales surrounding the set were a staple in local lore. From being haunted by an actor who'd met an untimely death to being a secret rendezvous spot for forbidden lovers, the stories were aplenty. Some masked guy at the party had told her that someone was killed their last night, but Jessica had her doubts. She guessed he was trying to scare her into his bed, a technique that only worked within the suspended realities of horror movies. In the real world, it took a little more effort than that.

The shadows of the early morning, combined with thoughts of the old film set, suddenly put Jessica on edge. As she continued her path along the river, a group of figures emerged across the street. Their movements were sluggish and drunken, silhouettes weaving in and out of the weak morning light. Jessica inspected closer and saw two of the same costumes she’d seen an hour ago. Other party-goers who’d also ended the night early, she guessed, but she kept her head down, hoping to go unnoticed. She wasn’t drunk enough to match their energy, and the prospect of diving into bed was more appealing than making idle chit-chat with strangers. Soon, they disappeared, and Jessica continued on.

She passed the river, down through the old lot that was fast becoming an unofficial trailer park. As she navigated through each makeshift home, she became aware of the unnatural silence of the night. Maywood, with its history and charm, had its quiet moments, but this was different. The usual distant hum of late-night city life, the occasional chirping of crickets or the distant hooting of an owl, was absent. Instead, Jessica felt as if the world around her had been muted, each of her footsteps sounding eerily loud against the gravel. The trailers themselves looked like they were holding their breath, windows shut tight, not even the whisper of wind through the gaps. As Jessica passed an old Airstream, its aluminum siding reflecting the ghostly pale light from a nearby street lamp, she thought she noticed movement within. A curtain shifted ever so slightly, but no faces peered out.

It was odd; this lot was usually alive with activity, even in the wee hours. There were always a few night owls around: the elderly man who would sit outside with his radio, playing old country songs to any insomniac willing to listen, or the young couple who'd often be found sharing whispered stories by a campfire. But tonight, there was no music, no murmured tales – just the unsettling stillness.

Jessica picked up the pace, then squeezed herself through a gap in a mesh fence at the perimeter. Her apartment suddenly came into view at the end of the long street, but even though her residence was close, the quiet of the night seemed to stretch the distance.

And suddenly, something stood out along her pathway. Something that sent a tingle of dread through her veins.

Nestled between two lampposts, just a few yards from the entrance to her building, stood a figure, still and silent. The person, or thing, was draped in a long, flowing cloak, the fabric nearly translucent in the dim light. The hood of the cloak concealed most of its face, but the faint glow from a nearby lamppost caught a glint of something metallic, perhaps a mask or some sort of ornament.

He stood there motionless, his stillness so profound that for a moment, Jessica wondered if she was looking at a statue or some elaborate art installation.

But then the figure moved, swayed, spurred to life by the night breeze. He took two slow, methodical steps towards her then stopped.

Another party-leaver, although he was wearing a costume she didn’t recognize.

For a split second, Jessica considered retracing her steps, perhaps finding an alternate route. But the proximity of her home, tantalizingly close, compelled her to move forward. Even though it was just another student wandering the night, something about his outfit was a little too on-the-nose for comfort. It was neither campy nor sexy, the two things party-goers aimed for with their costume choices. Instead, it was eerily authentic. A little too real.

Then, as quickly as the blank white face appeared, it vanished into the night. Jessica blinked herself back to full awareness, chiding herself for letting her imagination run wild. Her breathing was shallow, her heart raced, but she forced herself to exhale deeply, trying to expel the unease settling in her chest. The tales Jessica had heard from her college mates weren't just limited to eerie figures and urban myths; they were more grounded, more real. Others had spoken of being stalked after late-night library sessions, followed home, and in the worst cases, assaulted in the dim alleyways around the city. These days, you couldn’t be too careful,

It's just someone from the party trying to get a rise out of me, she murmured to herself. She'd always been prone to a vivid imagination, and it was quite possible that she'd allowed stories from the past and the uncanny environment of Maywood to affect her more than she'd realized.

Continuing on her way, Jessica strode down the pathway, eager to be surrounded by the familiar comforts of her apartment. The night sounds began to return, filling the silence she had noticed earlier. A dog barked in the distance, a car passed by, its headlights briefly illuminating the street before moving on. When she reached the spot where the masked figure had emerged from, she subtly glanced in every direction, hoping perhaps to see a familiar face or any indication that it was just a harmless prank. But the street was empty, save for a few trash cans and the usual urban debris.

As she approached her building, she could see the faint glow from her living room window. But a sharp, unsettling noise abruptly broke the ambient sounds of the night – a rapid scraping, like footsteps on the pavement, moving with urgency. Jessica's instincts took over, and she quickened her pace. But then she made the classic mistake often seen in horror films: she glanced over her shoulder.

Behind her, alarmingly close, the masked figure had re-emerged, and was advancing with determined strides, the billowing cloak now trailing behind like dark smoke. The intricate metallic mask caught the sparse light of the street, casting eerie reflections onto the cracked pavement. Its eyes, concealed behind the mask, seemed to be focused intently on Jessica, never straying, never blinking.

The surrealness of the moment struck Jessica hard. Was this still remnants of the party, some late-night straggler determined to keep the night's antics going? Or was this something more sinister?

Every gut instinct screamed the latter.

Half a second later, she had no doubt.

Because the figure began to speed down the path, rapidly closing the gap between them.

Jessica's heart raced even faster as adrenaline surged through her body. Panic and survival instincts took over as she sprinted towards her apartment building. The sound of her own footsteps was drowned out by the echoing strides of the pursuing masked figure. As she hurried down her path, a few survival tips she'd once read online raced through her mind: never run in a straight line, change directions, try to lose the chaser in a crowd or complex environment. But at this early hour, the streets were desolate, and the choices limited.

She quickly weighed her options. Should she run to her building, potentially leading the masked figure to her home? Or should she duck into a nearby alley or behind a car?

Her homing instinct was strong, pulling her towards the familiar safety of her apartment, but she knew she couldn't risk leading this potential threat to her doorstep. An alleyway to her right beckoned, and with a quick, agile movement, she veered off, hoping the sudden change in direction would throw off her pursuer.

The alley was dark, the tall buildings on either side blocking out the little light the dawn had to offer. As she ran, she spotted a stack of empty crates and barrels beside a locked service door.

Without thinking, Jessica made a snap decision, quickly ducking behind the makeshift barrier and pressing herself flat against the cold wall. Her breathing was ragged and loud in her ears, and she desperately tried to calm herself, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound. She strained her ears, listening for any hint of the masked figure.

A few moments later, the eerie silence of the alley was shattered by the deliberate footsteps of her pursuer. The sound grew louder, then paused, indicating he was now standing at the mouth of the alley, scanning the shadows for a hint of movement. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, every second feeling like an hour. Jessica closed her eyes, praying he would move on, that he'd believe she'd managed to exit the other end of the alley.

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