Frida woke up with a scared start. It was freezing, and her hands were in chains. She was securely locked in a seat—the very seat Shelly had been in those days ago.
"Hello?" Shelly said, appearing in a full outfit, like she was invited to the Met Gala.
"Shelly?" Frida asked.
"You had your fun, Frida. My turn," Shelly cackled.
---
A few hours earlier.
In the haunted house…
The fear clawed at her senses. "Laz? Laz, I'm scared, okay...come out..."
Something cold touched the small of her back.
"Don't move," the familiar voice spoke.
Her body shook, trembling. "Who...who are you?"
"Nothing personal, Frida. You just have to die... Too bad—we could have been something more," his voice sneered, making her irritated.
She heard the trigger, and her body froze. "P-please, d-don't shoot..." She raised her hands up.
The fear caused her to see black spots, and for a moment, she saw dark spots.
"If you had chosen me... I could have found a way to be with you!" he cried out.
