Work Text:
Heeled boots trudge through the crowded city streets, the sun setting as the Carpenter sisters attempt to escape the chaos of that day. The older woman’s good arm wrapped around her sister’s shoulders, holding her close by as they make their way back to their apartment complex.
It wasn’t too long of a walk, but after the day they dealt with both sisters were on the brink of exhaustion. Sam noticed her sister was having trouble breathing again, wheezes leaving her mouth every so often. Tara attempted to stifle her breaths to make it seem less obvious, but it wasn’t difficult for Sam to tell that her sister wasn’t feeling well. Despite her promise to give Tara more space, at the end of the day Tara’s health was always going to be her number one priority. Unfortunately, that meant venturing back to their apartment to grab the younger Carpenter’s spare inhaler amongst other things before meeting their friends back at the hospital.
Sam tried to keep a low profile as they walked, her dark brown eyes looking downward, glances shifting towards her sister every so often.
She couldn’t help but to notice a few stares from civilians walking by—something the woman never seemed to get used to. When the Reddit rumors regarding Sam being responsible for the Woodsboro murders spiraled out of control, she’d dealt with more public altercations than she’d care to admit. However, after facing a new trio of Ghostface killers that week, the woman was too drained to deal with what a couple of strangers on the street thought about her.
They were only a few blocks away from the building, but the streets only seemed to get busier the closer they were. Tara huddled closer towards Sam, big brown eyes scanning their surroundings. It wasn’t until they arrived at the apartment complex when things seemed to go from bad to worse.
The outside of the building was filled with police and reporters as to be expected, the sight causing the older sister’s eyes to narrow. For the past week the building was deemed as a crime scene, yet it was the only place where the sisters could stay for the time being. Sam wasn’t thrilled about it, but far worse was dealing with the constant questioning and harassment.
“Sam! Do you have any details on the condition of Gale Weathers?”
“Why do the Ghostface attacks keep following you?”
“Tara—do you think your sister might be responsible for the recent murders of Anika Kayoko and Quinn Bailey?”
The reporters don’t hesitate to bombard the sisters with questions, a grunt leaving Sam’s mouth as she attempts to shield Tara away from them. Her teeth grit, beginning to walk up the complex’s stairs while a crowd of reporters and nosy civilians surround them. The constant flashing lights and clicks of cameras filled the air. Between that and the never-ending stream of questions, it was almost enough to cause the older sister to lose her temper.
“Show them who you really are, Samantha.”
Billy Loomis’ voice echoed only for the older sister to hear. A sudden gasp leaving Sam’s mouth as it lingered in her ears. She’d dealt with her deceased father’s presence looming over her on numerous occasions, but despite years of dealing with it, nothing could make it any less jarring.
The startled woman stops in place, unaware of the crowd rapidly starting to close in on her and Tara. Her mind would never stop playing tricks on her—the visions and voice of her father never letting her rest. Yet that evening, after thinking she’d let go of her dark past, it somehow continued to haunt her at the worst time imaginable.
The younger sister looks up at Sam with panic filled eyes, now tugging on the taller woman’s hand.
“Come on Sam—we’re almost inside!” Tara interrupts the other woman’s thoughts. Hearing her sister’s voice was the only thing that could ground Sam back into reality. Widened eyes focusing towards her, she slightly nods, dark strands of hair falling in front of her face before she’s pulled by Tara’s lead inside the building.
The crowd of reporters push towards the Carpenter sisters, refusing to let them go so easily. However, they’re quickly stopped by the apartment’s security team who block off the entrance, allowing Tara and Sam remain inside the building safely. Without hesitation, the two of them run towards the elevator, Tara’s grip on her sister’s hand tightening.
Arriving at the back of the lobby sweaty and out of breath, Tara rapidly presses on the button to activate the elevator doors, waiting impatiently for the elevator to arrive on their floor.
Despite the chaos that emerged outside, the apartment complex itself was a ghost town. All that could be heard was light chatter from security and Tara’s heavy breathing. This only caused Sam’s concerns to grow, the urgency to retrieve her sister’s inhaler increasing upon hearing each shaky breath she took.
It didn’t help that the wait for the elevator felt like years, the older sister’s boot tapping against the tile while she watched numbers flash above the elevator doors.
6…5…4…3…2…1.
A sigh of relief leaves Sam’s mouth once the elevator arrives at the lobby, the doors opening to reveal the empty vessel. Considering how her interactions with everyone besides her sisters and friends had been nightmarish that day, she was relieved there was no one else inside to interact with.
The sisters make their way inside the elevator, the younger Carpenter eventually letting go of her older sister’s hand. She presses the button leading to the ninth floor, watching it light up before the doors slowly close shut. The elevator begins to rumble as it moves upward, Tara’s eyes now glued onto her sister.
Although Sam was incredibly protective over Tara, the younger sister had begun to act the same way. It only took one look for her to notice something was wrong with Sam. The older woman’s eyes gazed downward deep in thought, barely focused on her sister beside her.
“Hey Sam, are you okay? We didn’t have to come back here you know…” Tara interrupts, looking up at her sister with guilt-ridden eyes. Deep down, a part of her felt like this was all her fault. After all, they were only returning to their apartment for her spare inhaler, which she carelessly forgot.
Tara’s voice intrudes into Sam’s thoughts, which was probably for the better. The older woman shakes her head as her attention fully focuses her sister.
“Yeah—I’m fine. You know I wasn’t going to let you spend the night at the hospital without an inhaler.” She reassures Tara, a forced smile brimming at the corners of her lips as she gently pushes a stray strand of Tara's hair behind her sister’s ear.
Of course both of them knew her smile was forced—it was difficult for them to hide anything from each other anymore. Unfortunately, the older Carpenter assumed Tara wasn’t going to look past what happened to her outside, but she still wanted to stay strong for her. After everything they’d dealt with that evening, she had to.
“I’m sorry I forgot it. I guess I should’ve known those assholes would be waiting for us here too.” Tara says sheepishly, a quick shrug of her shoulders towards her sister.
“You know they’re not going to leave us alone anytime soon; after tonight it’ll only get worse.” Sam responds bluntly. Tara furrowed her eyebrows at those words; Sam wasn’t necessarily an optimist, but she usually wasn’t one to worry her sister either.
Unfortunately, the older Carpenter had dealt with a handful of reporters in Woodsboro before the sisters inevitably left for New York, but it had only gotten worse within the past weeks. Rumors about the serial killer’s daughter following in her father’s footsteps spread on Reddit, eventually making its way to public news. Despite how hard Sam tried, it was something she’d never be able to escape.
“I know, but I won’t let them do anything to you.” Tara says quietly, just as the elevator comes to a stop on their floor.
Sam doesn’t respond, just nodding towards her younger sister. As much as she appreciated Tara having her back, she didn't want anything to get worse for her either. Not to mention, she didn’t want her sister to deal with what she’d being going through for months now. It would only create additional stress on top of everything that Sam was going through, which was the last thing she wanted.
Once the elevator doors open, the Carpenter sisters walk out in unison, treading towards their room at a moderate pace. Sam reaches in her jean pocket to grab the room key, the sisters quickly arriving at the door.
Bandaged arm unlocking the door, Sam twists the golden knob before stepping aside, watching as Tara enter the room first.
Their room looked just as they initially left it—a disaster. Despite being considered a crime scene, the sisters had yet to pack up any of their belongings. It was left nearly untouched since the night of the Ghostface attack, the scene causing a chill to trail down Sam’s spine as she glanced around at their living space.
“Do you remember where you left your inhaler?” Sam asks as she closes the door behind her, locking it for good measure.
“It should be in my room—I think it’s still in my backpack.” Tara nods, not hesitating to walk through the apartment’s messy surroundings.
“Okay.” The older Carpenter nods in return as she places the room key back in her pocket. “While you’re looking I’ll be in the bathroom if you need anything. I just need to clean up and grab my meds, then we can get the hell out of here.”
Tara pauses in her steps after hearing the mention of her sister’s medication. She turns around on her heels to face her, a concerned expression written on her features. The younger Carpenter knew that Sam’s medication meant one thing—the visions of Billy Loomis were still there, continuing to haunt her. She hated to think they had come back, particularly on such a traumatic night.
“Be quick Sam, please?” the younger sister nearly begs, saddened eyes staring up towards her. Although she wouldn’t admit it out loud, all she wanted in that moment was to be by Sam’s side, to make sure she was okay, but she knew her sister wouldn’t allow it.
“I will, I promise.” Sam reassures her sister with a single nod. She reaches over to place her hand on Tara’s shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze before making her way towards the bathroom in a hurry.
The bathroom felt like the safest place in their apartment, despite everything that happened to their living space. It was the only place where Sam could be truly alone and away from the chaos that was her life, or so she thought.
Locking the rusted knob, the woman turns on the light before standing in front of the mirror and staring blankly at her own reflection. Dark eyes that withheld the madness of her father, her face covered in dirt and grime, blood-stained tank-top and hands, tangled black locks that reached her waist—she felt like a disaster. Due to the condition of her friends in the hospital however, she knew she wouldn’t have time for a shower. Instead, a quick rinse off was her only option, but it was better than nothing.
She turns the faucet, her bloody hands now placed underneath the running water. Splashing cold water on her face, crystal droplets falling down her cheeks. Yet the chilling sensation wasn’t enough to clear her mind of the events that unfolded that evening. A heavy exhale leaves her lips, running a wet hand through her black locks as her focus concentrates on the running water.
Her one moment of peace seemed too good to be true, however. She was soon interrupted by a voice: one she was desperate not to hear again that night.
“Samanthaaa.” The familiar, yet chilling voice of her father lingers in her mind. A sigh escapes Sam’s mouth, hesitant to look in the mirror for his presence. “I know you want to talk to me.”
His words continued to echo, her temptation to look up increasing by the second. She taps her nails anxiously against the edge of the sink while biting the inside of her lip. Billy’s presence haunted her when she was at her worst, so it was no surprise that he paid her a visit after surviving yet another killing spree.
“It’s always convenient timing for you, isn’t it?” The woman scoffs as she turns off the faucet, dark eyes now staring back into the mirror. Only this time she wasn’t alone. Lurking behind her reflection was the presence of her father—the infamous Billy Loomis. A sinister smirk rested on his lips, white shirt drenched with dark blood, loose strands of hair falling in front of his eyes. Every time they spoke, he always looked just as he did the night he tormented Sidney Prescott and her friends.
But this time whilst their reflections stared back at her, she couldn’t help but to notice the similarities between them. Their dark eyes, blood and dirt covered clothing—they even had the same stance. A chill falls down Sam’s spine at the revelation, her brows furrowing as she looked towards him.
“Without me—without your killer instincts, you and your sister wouldn’t be alive right now. You and I both know that.” Her father retorts, almost as if he was taunting her. “Look at yourself Sammy, the daughter of a serial killer. It’s in your blood, and now your true colors are finally starting to show. I couldn’t be prouder, sweetheart—if only you kept the mask.”
“I did what I had to do—it’s nothing to be proud of.” She states defensively, eyes narrowing as she speaks. However, with every conversation she had with her father, her responses become more hesitant. She knew he was right, whether it was all in her head or not it wasn’t something Sam would dare to admit out loud.
“You had to stab Detective Bailey thirty-two times?” Billy raises a brow, a chuckle leaving his mouth afterwards. “I know you enjoyed it Sam, the thrill of it all. Come on it’s okay, you can tell me the truth.”
The survivor swallows hard, eyes flickering down towards the tiled floor for a moment. She knew that even if she tried to ignore her father’s voice, tried to avoid the feelings that consumed her, they would never go away. Yet, facing them was as if she was going down the same path as Billy, something she desperately wanted to stray away from.
“Maybe, but I only killed to defend myself and Tara. I would never do what you did.” Her eyes glance back up, only to see Billy smiling at her.
“Really…?” The man questions his daughter. “What if you have no choice? What if next time, you have to embrace who you really are—a born killer.”
“But—” Sam interrupts, but she can’t quite form words. Maybe she wasn’t as relieved as she thought after she and Tara faced the most recent Ghostface killers. She wanted so badly to cling onto hope that it was over, but her existence alone was enough for her to know it was too good to be true.
“You and I both know there will be a next time, Samantha, don’t kid yourself. But you know how to handle those psychos, you can do it again to protect your beloved sister.”
Before she can respond, a loud sequence of knocks suddenly comes from outside the bathroom door, a small gasp leaving Sam’s mouth at the startling noise.
“Sam? Are you ready to go? I found my inhaler!” Tara calls from outside the bathroom, impatience filling the younger sibling’s voice.
“Yeah—I’ll be out in a second!” Sam shouts in response, attempting to compose herself before turning to look back into the mirror.
A sigh leaves her lips when she noticed her father’s image was no longer there. It was just the reflection of her dark eyes staring back at her admis the bright bathroom lights. Despite his presence being unwelcome, there was still unfinished business between them that the older Carpenter desperately needed clarity on. Unfortunately, she knew that was clarity she didn’t have the luxury of receiving at that moment. Her sister was her priority, after all, and her few minutes alone were merely wasted by visions of her father.
“Sam what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Tara begins to knock at the door again, her readiness to leave only causing Sam to become more frantic.
“Yeah just give me a minute!” Sam calls out, immediately opening the cabinet door, reaching towards the top shelf to grab her bottle of meds.
She throws the medication in her bag, reaching inside when she feels the familiar weapon she carried around for the past year as extra protection. The woman pauses for a moment, wrapping her fingers around the handle as she slowly pulls out her pocketknife.
Her eyes admire the weapon as she carefully flicks it upward causing the blade to pop out. She stares at the knife in her hand, twisting the weapon to gaze at the rusted blade. A sigh leaves her mouth at the realization—if anyone hurt her sister again, she knew what she had to do.