IV

Summer Preston

I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache that felt like someone was jackhammering inside my skull. Regret hit me immediately—last night's drinking had been a terrible idea.

Groaning, I stumbled out of bed, unsteady on my feet, and made my way to the bathroom. I turned on the shower, the sound of the water almost soothing, and glanced at myself in the mirror. What I saw made me wince. Smudged makeup clung to my face like a bad decision, and my hair looked like it had lost a fight with a tornado.

With a heavy sigh, I stripped off my clothes and stepped under the hot stream of water. The warmth cascaded over me, and I dipped my head under, letting it soak my hair and clear some of the fog in my brain. For a few minutes, I just stood there, allowing the steam to envelop me before getting down to business—washing my hair and scrubbing away the remnants of last night.

After turning off the shower, I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself, patting my skin dry. Standing at the sink, I methodically completed my skincare routine, brushed my teeth, and worked a brush through my damp hair before blow-drying it. I styled it into a smooth blowout, the routine calming my frazzled nerves just a little.

Back in my room, I moisturized my skin, applied deodorant, and sifted through my closet for something to wear. After trying on a handful of outfits, I settled on a sleek black long-sleeve Skims top paired with low-waisted jeans from Garage. I accessorized with my usual gold jewelry and slipped into my Christian Louboutins.

A light touch of makeup, a spritz of perfume, and I was nearly ready. I grabbed my trench coat and sunglasses, slipping them on with practiced ease, before collecting my purse and keys. Moments later, I was in my Range Rover, driving toward Dunkin' for a much-needed caffeine boost.

Coffee in hand, I arrived on set only to be greeted by chaos. My cosmetic team was running around like headless chickens, and I couldn't help but push my sunglasses up into my hair in irritation.

I raised my voice to cut through the commotion. "Why are you all so chaotic?"

One of the assistants turned to me, frazzled. "Ms. Preston, we're trying to make sure everyone has the correct outfits for their scenes—"

"Then do it in their trailers," I snapped. "Not where the crew is setting up. You'll break a camera at this rate!"

Without waiting for a reply, I brushed past them and headed to my office. Once inside, I set my coffee on the desk and announced over the intercom, "We start shooting in twenty minutes. Everything better be perfect by then. Today is not the day for screw-ups."

I sat down, taking a long sip of coffee before opening Gossip Girl on my laptop. Ten minutes into the episode, a knock on my door interrupted me.

"Come in," I called, irritation thick in my voice.

The door opened to reveal August, looking sheepish, with a woman standing behind her. I sighed, exasperated. "What is it, August?"

"I—I just wanted to apologize for yesterday," she stammered, fiddling with her fingers. "I promise I'll focus today so we can finish before the premiere."

"You'd better mean it," I replied sharply, my eyes shifting to the woman behind her.

"This is my girlfriend, Spencer," August added, stepping aside.

Spencer stepped forward, extending a hand. "Hi, I'm Spencer. It's nice to meet you, Summer. I just got back from Europe, and my hotel isn't ready yet, so August said I could stay in her trailer—"

"Yeah, I don't care," I cut her off. "August, let's go. We're starting."

I brushed past them, my patience wearing thin. The last thing I needed was a detailed explanation of why someone was here when I had bigger things to handle.

On set, the cast and crew immediately focused on me as I strode in. I glanced around, making sure everything was in place.

"This is the final week to finish shooting the last scene," I announced, my tone firm. "I expect nothing but your best. We might be here late, so eat, sleep, and prepare yourselves. Take your places—we're starting now."

The set buzzed as everyone hurried into position. Today's scene featured Maya (August's character) and Ethan (Ryan's character) fighting to escape the tunnel.

I stood behind the camera, holding the megaphone. "Three, two, one—action!"

The tunnel filled with tension, both on-screen and off, as we began the final stretch of filming. There was no room for mistakes now—not with the premiere looming so close.

*THE MOVIE SCRIPT IS IN ITALICS.*

Ethan and Maya stumble through the endless dark, their flashlights flickering. The whispers grow louder, words forming from the chaos. Ethan freezes, staring ahead.

ETHAN

(whispering)

Do you see that?

MAYA

(turning, alarmed)

See what?

Ahead, faint outlines emerge from the darkness—figures of their lost coworkers: Carlos, his safety vest torn and bloodied; Anna, her eyes empty, staring. They stand motionless, blocking the path.

ETHAN

It's them. Oh my God, it's Carlos and Anna.

MAYA

(terrified)

No... no, it's not real. Ethan, don't—

Ethan steps forward, his voice breaking.

ETHAN

Carlos! Anna! You're alive!

CARLOS

(softly, almost a whisper)

Why did you leave us, Ethan?

ETHAN

(shaking his head)

I didn't... I swear, we tried to—

ANNA

(cutting him off, voice distant)

You let us die.

The figures take a step closer, the shadows around them twisting unnaturally. Ethan drops to his knees, clutching his head.

ETHAN

(panicked)

No, no, I didn't. I tried—

Maya grabs his arm, pulling him back.

MAYA

(firmly)

Ethan, listen to me! It's not them. It's the thing in the tunnel.

ETHAN

(pleading)

But what if it's really them? What if they're trapped here? We can't just leave them!

CARLOS

(voice distorting, echoing)

Stay with us, Ethan. You can make it right.

The figures stretch toward him, their forms elongating grotesquely. Maya steps between Ethan and the phantoms, shining her flashlight directly at them.

MAYA

(screaming)

They're NOT REAL!

The beam of light disrupts the hallucination, and the figures dissolve into smoke. Ethan collapses, trembling.

ETHAN

(softly)

It felt so real.

MAYA

(urgent, pulling him to his feet)

That's what it does. It gets inside your head. We have to move. Now.

"CUT!" I shout, my voice echoing across the set as the scene wraps up. I step forward, clapping my hands together. "August, Ryan—that was perfect. Seriously, great work. I'm proud of both of you."

Their faces light up with smiles, and I catch a hint of relief in their expressions.

"Thank you, Summer," August says, her voice filled with gratitude.

Ryan nods in agreement. "Appreciate it. Means a lot."

I return a small nod, allowing myself a moment of pride before shifting my focus. The stage crew is already at work, swiftly moving props and adjusting the set for the next scene. The controlled chaos of their efforts hums in the background, each team member knowing exactly what needs to be done.

As soon as everything is in place, I glance at the monitor to ensure the framing is perfect. "Alright, everyone, reset positions! Let's roll."

The cameras start rolling again, and just like that, we're back in the zone, bringing the story to life one scene at a time.

The two finally reach the carved chamber, but Ethan is still shaken. As Maya examines the carvings, Ethan hears a faint laugh. He turns to see Anna's face, just for a moment, in the darkness.

ETHAN

(whispering to himself)

You're not real... you're not real.

MAYA

(looking up)

What?

ETHAN

(nods at the abyss)

The carvings... they said a sacrifice. One of us has to stay.

MAYA

(firmly)

No. That's what it wants. It's trying to divide us again.

The entity begins to manifest—a towering shadow with glowing, shifting eyes. The whispers grow deafening. Ethan staggers, hearing the voices of his dead friends again.

CARLOS

(whispering)

Stay, Ethan. End it.

ANNA

(softly)

You're the reason we're here. You owe us.

Ethan clenches his fists, tears streaming down his face.

ETHAN

(to Maya, voice breaking)

I can't do this anymore.

Maya grabs him, shaking him.

MAYA

(pleading)

Yes, you can. You're stronger than this. Don't let it win.

The entity looms closer, its tendrils reaching for them. Maya looks at the carvings, then at the abyss.

MAYA

(quietly, determined)

We jump. Together. It can't take us both if we choose each other.

Ethan hesitates, still hearing the voices. Maya reaches out, taking his hand.

MAYA

(softly)

It's us or it. Trust me.

Ethan nods, gripping her hand tightly.

ETHAN

(through tears)

Together.

They step to the edge as the entity's tendrils lash out.

MAYA

(yelling)

Now!

They leap into the darkness, hand in hand. The screen fades to black as the whispers abruptly stop.

The tunnel entrance is sealed, the mountain eerily silent. A lone hard hat lies on the ground, cracked and scorched. As the camera pans out, faint whispers echo, this time sounding like both Ethan and Maya.

WHISPER

(softly)

It's never over.

"And scene!" I call out, my voice carrying through the set as the final scene wraps. A wave of applause erupts from the cast and crew, filling the room with a well-earned sense of accomplishment.

I stand from my director's chair, letting the moment settle before addressing everyone. "I can't thank you all enough for the hard work you've put into this project over the past year and a half. I know I've pushed you—hard—but it's because I knew you could deliver greatness. And you did."

A ripple of smiles and murmurs of appreciation spreads through the group.

"As you all know, tomorrow is Thanksgiving," I continue, "and as my way of showing gratitude, I'll be hosting dinner at my place. Bring whoever you'd like—family, friends, it's open to all. Just make sure to RSVP so we have enough food."

A few people cheer lightly, clearly relieved by the offer of a warm, celebratory gathering.

I raise a hand to quiet the room. "One more thing. On Friday, some of you may need to come in for tweaks if the editors flag anything during post. But for now, you're free to leave. I'll send out the dinner details by email."

The smiles grow wider, and a collective sense of relief hangs in the air as people begin to gather their things.

Before leaving the set, I pull August and Ryan aside, wrapping them in a brief hug. "Amazing work, both of you. That last scene was everything I envisioned. You nailed it."

"Thanks, Summer," August says, her voice soft but sincere.

Ryan gives me a rare grin. "Means a lot coming from you."

After a few more conversations and goodbyes, I make my way toward my office to wrap up the day. As I turn a corner in the hallway, someone bumps into me.

"Hey! Watch where you're going—" My voice falters as I look up. It's Solène.

She glances up from her phone, startled. "I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying atten—Summer?"

The recognition in her voice cuts through me like a knife. My stomach knots, but I quickly look away and keep walking, ignoring her repeated calls behind me.

What the hell is she doing here?

My heart pounds as I make it to the safety of my office, closing the door behind me. Whatever her reason, it's the last thing I need to deal with right now.