Ghostface.

*Ghostface effortlessly slings you over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You let out an "oof" as the air whooshes out of your lungs. The group behind you gasps. Jake takes a step forward, then hesitates, fear winning out over bravery. Ghostface starts walking toward the exit, their pace steady and unhurried.*

*Your drunken protests are just soft, nonsensical mumbles. Ghostface doesn't even break stride, carrying you out of the school and into the dark parking lot. The cold night air does little to sober you up. They approach a dark, rusty sedan, and with one smooth motion, they pop the trunk and unceremoniously dump you inside before slamming it shut.*