Something moved in the bushes behind you. Spinning around to see the source of the sound, you saw nothing. You took a deep breath to calm your rattled nerves. Maybe walking in the dark by yourself wasn't a good idea.

You did a complete three-sixty to see anything suspicious, but the grounds of Xavier's Institute were silent, except for the occasional hoot of an owl and the slight breeze that rustled the leaves. Ten minutes ago, it seemed the perfect opportunity to take a peaceful midnight stroll. Now you were regretting the decision. You stood still and peered into the shadows of the trees in the distance.

Was someone or something lurking in the darkness? That was absurd though. The school was protected by state-of-the-art equipment and regularly tested, and who would attack the mansion with the X-Men ready to defend it?

Managing a small smirk, you stepped forward to saunter among the maples and oaks of the forest under the beautiful moonlight. You froze, however, when the shadows shifted in an unnatural way and emerged a sight which almost stopped your heart. You were paralyzed as a monstrous horror, fixated on your figure, stalked closer.

No help was to be found, there was only yourself. Raising your hand, you sent an explosive shock wave concentrated at it. The hideous creature crashed into a thicket of black spruces, but it rolled sideways and continued toward you.

You blasted it repeatedly until your hands were aching. The beast was nearly upon you when you began to run faster than any Olympic runner has or ever will. In just mere seconds, you reached the door and flung it open. You bolted it shut and shouted into the empty foyer.

The others needed to be alerted to the beast clawing at the entrance. Professor X could freeze it with his mind, Ororo could strike it with lighting, Peter could race it to the ends of the earth. They could succeed where you had failed.

Sprinting up the stairs and down the hall, you banged on doors and shrieked for the students to wake up and kill the monster waiting for them outside. No one came. The rooms were vacant and the beds deserted. You were alone.

You heard the front door crash and realized it was too late. The horror was already inside. There was nowhere left to run or hide. A cold hand clutched your shoulder, and you wondered if you'd ever feel the warm sun against your cheeks and enjoy the sweet, summertime air with your friends. Would you ever see them again? Would you ever see Peter again? Tears fell from your face and onto the floor for the heinous fate that awaited you.

Closing your eyes, you hoped this beast was only a figment of your imagination. Yet hallucinations don't creak floorboards or hold you in a death grip. You were out of time. This was how you died, no last-minute escape, no daring rescue, no second chance to live.

You turned your head to see the thing that was your death and let out another scream of terror. Forty, huge eyes leered back at you with each eyeball oozing blood that gushed over to its sharpened fangs.

You attempted to use your powers and struggled to get as far as you were able to from the monster, but to no avail. There was no escaping the blood-soaked jaws that meant the end of your life. Demons appeared and joined in feasting on your body.

Teeth plunged into your neck, stomach, and arms. You unleashed hellish screams and wails that signaled your demise. You wished it could be over and that death would release you from this earth-shattering pain.

◇◇◇

You were awakened by someone shaking your shoulders.

"Wake up! Wake up!"

Your eyes fluttered open. Peter knelt next to you, looking scared. Bolting upward, you wacked your arms to rid yourself of the devils eating them. You touched your neck, making sure it was attached to your head.

Peter secured your arms to your sides and said, "Woah, are you okay? What happened? You've been screaming in your sleep. Did you have a nightmare? What's wrong?"

You fought against him while sobbing that a beast was here, and it was devouring you. Then his words echoed in your ears. You've been screaming in your sleep. Did you have a nightmare? What's wrong? A TV was playing a horror movie.

On a table was a bowl of half-eaten popcorn, the wrappings of multiple candy bars, and two empty giant-sized bottles of soda. Pillows and blankets were piled on the couch where you were sitting.

It dawned on you that Peter and you were having your annual Halloween movie marathon. Did that mean the gruesome occurrence that you experienced was nothing more than a nightmare? Was it all fake?

You clutched Peter as if he was the last anchor to your sanity and broke into a fresh set of tears. They were tears of relief. The monster was not real and never would be. Your limbs hadn't been torn apart for demons' dinner, and Peter hadn't abandoned you.

He rubbed your back. "I don't think we should watch anymore tonight," he murmured and clicked the TV off.

You pulled away from his embrace, placed your hands on either side of his confused face, and kissed him flat on the lips. It was a wonderful, tingling sensation that forced you to completely accept reality.

You stopped as soon as you started, not wanting to make Peter uncomfortable with your sudden action. "Sorry, I-"

"Hey, I didn't say I wasn't enjoying it." He smiled and resumed the impassioned kiss.

Afterwards, you asked him to stay, and he gladly obliged. When he heard about your nightmare in nauseating detail, he offered to fetch anything to make you feel better. You rejected this because all you didn't want him to leave your side even for a split second; all you needed was him. Peter comforted you the entire night and promised to protect you from the evil of the thriller.