Seduction of the Slasher

The ceiling above was not the concrete and steel she remembered, but popcorn-textured drywall. Sunlight, warm and golden, slanted through gauzy curtains, illuminating floral bedsheets. Nicolette opened her eyes, not startled, but profoundly aware.

She wasn't dead. No, she had arrived. This new body, young and vibrant, belonged to Rebecca Lang, a name that felt strangely natural. The room around her spoke of Rebecca's quiet intelligence: books on psychology, encryption sketches, a half-burned candle on a saucer.

She stood, catching her reflection. A girl stared back, all soft curves and coiled power, a face like sin in Sunday school. The memories of Rebecca, like dormant files, were hers to browse. The perfect vessel. The perfect cover.

Nicolette smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips. Her power, the Dominion, was intact, slithering beneath her skin like fire laced with silk. In a town like Woodsboro, she was going to be a god.

She parted the curtains with two fingers. Teenagers gathered down the block, school-bound. Among them, her first prey. Not a target to kill, but a town to bend. They didn't know it yet, but every soul here belonged to her.