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Chapter Text

I’ve always loved boys. For as long as I could remember, boys were my favorite pastime. Not even talking to them; just fantasizing. 

When I was young, I thought about what they talked about. What they teased each other about, not that I really cared, but I loved watching them laugh and playfully push each other as a punch line. They’re very physical; I envied that.  As I got older, my pastime grew more explicit.  

I met Stu before that, though. A little girl’s crush that blossomed.  

My parents moved me to Woodsboro when I was eight, and I was heartbroken because I had to leave behind my beautiful red head neighbor. Unfortunately, that red head’s mother had gotten too close to my father for my mother’s comfort. So, we moved. They said it was because of a job offer. I didn’t really believe it, but our house was bigger, so there can always be two truths. Maybe the offer was just convenient. My mother finally had a studio in this new house. She’s an artist, she makes covers for romance novels. My dad also does something with his hands, but it’s boring. I’ve never really asked.   

Mom took me to the park while my father supervised with the movers. In the park, there was a playground to the side of a large fountain. It wasn’t a very crowded spot. I saw him before he saw me. He was taller than the other boy he was with. Louder too. He was nerve wracking.

“Why don’t you go play with them?” 

Mom snapped me out of it. She was talking to me but was looking at the other mothers. There was a group of them gossiping, dressed differently from my mom. Something she was probably self-conscious about. I could always tell when my mom was nervous by the way she’d pick at the paint at the dry paint on the side of her palms. It seemed like a permanent feature of hers no matter how many times she washed. Sometimes her nails would scratch her and the blood would replace the paint. That made my heart twist. I didn’t want to make it worse, so I went.  

I tried to make my way to the swings slowly. Hoping they wouldn’t notice me. I was always unlucky. The tall boy spotted me. He smiled broadly; he was missing a few teeth. He looked goofy but nice. He looked approachable, at least from a distance. He waved me over to the slides; I think it annoyed his friend. Who did not look nearly as nice.  

“Who are you?” His friend asked.  

“I’m new,” I forced out.  

“Yeah, I guessed that,” his friend rolled his eyes. Already done with me.  

Fair enough. I hadn’t answered the question really.  

“I’m Stu and he’s Billy. He’s nicer to people he knows.” The tall boy interjected.  

“That makes sense.” Stu smiled at me. The missing front tooth accentuated his move for friendliness.  

In a desperate move to avoid saying anything else, I climbed up the ladder to the jungle gym. My stomach was flipping. If I said another word, I was going to vomit. I much preferred watching. When I made it to the platform, I looked for my mother. Much to her relief, she had fit into the pair of gossiping mothers.  

“The slide is for boys only.” I turned and there Billy was, with Stu climbing up behind him.  

“Says who?”  

“The mayor,” Billy smirked. Stu had stood up behind Billy. Oh, so Billy was in charge.  

“I don’t think Mayors can make those rules,” I faltered a little. Fully amazed I had said anything at all.  

“How would you know what mayors can do?” Billy poked at me, “You’re a girl.” 

I was tearing up now. I looked towards the slide. I don’t know where my sudden burst of courage came from. I think it came from a deep dislike of Billy. I took a step towards the slide.  

“Don’t take another step bitch,” Billy practically spat at me. I did stop, mainly because I had never heard someone my age say something like that.  

Stu stepped in front of Billy who’s small body was festering with rage. I smiled, Maybe Billy wasn’t in charge. I only made it to where my toes were on the edge of the slide.  

“Hey,” I turned around and Stu was right behind me, “No girls allowed.” Then he pushed me.  

I heard the snap before I felt anything. But once I did, I felt everything. The crack in my arm made my forehead sweat, and the nausea surged from my gut. Stu’s face looked down at me. I should have started crying or at least called out for my mom. But Stu, he looked like an angel. The blue of the sky-big and bright, and the clouds slowly moving, as if they, too, didn’t want to leave him. There was something in his eyes as he looked down at me. Something I would never be able to name. Then he smiled and I was in love.  

My mom took me to the doctor, I had fallen. No, that boy didn’t push me. Yes, I swear Mom. No don’t talk to his parents Dad.  

A week later, on my first day of school, Stu signed my cast. I couldn’t stop staring at the sharp dark letters that spelt out Stu. I’d trace out the letters with my finger and feel my heart beat in my throat. It was the closest I’d ever felt to someone.

I’ve spent my entire school years loving him. Of course, I don’t really talk to him, but we circled each other like sharks. I’m always in the same social circles of his girlfriends. Giving them positive sounding but ultimately awful advice.

Casey was hard to befriend at first, she was pretty and acted like it. After she became my biology partner, it was easy to slip in. We dissected a frog together as she told me about her and Stu losing their virginities to each other after the premiere of Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers.

After class, I walked out of school. I don’t remember how I got home. All I could focus on was getting into my room. When my bedroom door finally shut, I let everything out. My tears were relentless and hot. I ripped pages out of my biology book while these guttural cries tore out of me. I started dry heaving, and with the tears, I truly felt like I was going to die. Exhausted, I crawled into bed and stayed there for days. I told my parents I had the flu, but I could not stop crying. My cheeks were red and burning from the constant tears. My eyes swelled shut on day two. On day three, I stared into nothingness, willing time to go back, but it didn’t. I was utterly heartbroken. I was saving myself, but he couldn’t wait.

When I finally came back to school, no one really noticed I was gone. Everyone was too busy with Sidney. Her mother was murdered the same week Casey told me about her and Stu. I hadn’t noticed she wasn’t in school, but after I left the news spread like wildfire. I was grateful for everyone being distracted from my absence, but sometimes I wished I was noticed. I started taking inventory of boys who gave Casey second looks after that. Steven was handsome and athletic. Perfect for her.  

Stu was unfortunately devastated. He stalked through the halls for weeks. Head down, unable to see me. Steven and Casey were not fair. Gross kisses and laughing in the hallway. I was depressed too. I was finally getting the courage to expand on our usual small talk when he twirled Tatum down the hallway. Their first date was From Dusk till Dawn. Which really stung cause I love that movie. He showed her off. She was so pretty. It was effortless. I’d never look like that or manifest that ease. It took me months to get out of that funk. I had been stuck being Casey’s biology partner. She told me the intimate details of her and Steve’s sex life while I tried to focus on the hum of the air conditioner. Needless to say, we stop really talking.  

I spent most of the beginning of Junior year sitting in the back of the class. That was until Tatum was transferred to my study hall. Halfway through the year, she confidently walks into the library and sits two tables in front of me. I stared at the back of her head the whole period. After the bell rang, I went to the bathroom to calm down but there she was again. Smoking beside a cracked window. Looking at my reflection for reassurance. I decided this was it.  

“Can I bum one?”  

She laughed, “You smoke?” 

“Vogue said it was an appetite suppressant,” I had seen her flipping through a Vogue with Stu’s head resting in her lap one lunch period. It made me vomit.  

“Really?” With a raised eyebrow.  

“Moss swears by it.”  

Tatum smiled and fished her pack of cigarettes out of her bag, “Well if Kate says so.” 

Surprisingly smoking my first cigarette, I don’t think I looked like an idiot. I didn’t even cough.  

“I like your skirt. We should go shopping sometime.” 

Tatum smiled, “Totally.”  

The rest of Junior year, Tatum and I were always together. Sidney too, but God she was annoying. I did try to be sensitive I really did, but personally I didn’t care about her slutty mom or her being a prude. That’s all she seemed to talk about. Tatum was defiantly more interesting to talk to despite hating her. She always had the latest gossip, which I filed away for future usage.  

I started going to parties with them, including Stu. He was fascinating to watch at parties- he was really in his element, full of confidence. Funny, handsome, and always winning drinking games. He commanded attention, and I would oblige, unable to look away. He was just amazing to watch. He was collected and smooth; effortless but magnetic. But every time, it stung, because Tatum would notice it too. When Tatum would look up at him adoringly and he’d kiss her-quick and sweet, like it was something he’d done a thousand time before. It twisted something in me. My cheeks would sting, I would tell myself it was just one moment at this party-it didn’t mean anything. But then, I’d think about all the moments when I’m not there to watch. All the moments of delicacy and connection. And then, something in me  would start to burn.  

The good thing was Stu loved to host. Not only did I know where he lived, but sometimes I’d get to snoop. When everyone was down stairs drunk. I’d go up to Tatum and sluring my words saying “I feel sick. I think I need to lie down,” and she’d offer Stu’s room. When the door closed behind me, I’d come alive. The first time I got in there I just laid there with my face buried in his pillow. I wanted to inhale every part of him. Eventually, people knew me as a light weight and I wouldn’t even have to ask. Someone would come get me after an hour, usually Sidney, and drive me home. I got braver in that room. I had tried to touch myself in his bed once, but I was overwhelmed by images of other girls naked bodies in that bed. I stayed out of that bed after that. Instead, I went through his drawers, not a lot of school work. His yearbook had several girls' photos circled.

Casey.

Tatum.

Sidney.

My photo was unmarked.

That did make me cry. I went through his dirty laundry and surrounded myself with his scent. On a brave, drunken, night, I slipped a dirty t-shirt in my purse. I had been alone in his room again, and looked down at the remnants of his days scattered around. There was one gray t-shirt. In that moment, it made sense for me to take it. The scent was intoxicating. Every time I wore it alone in my room, he felt tangible. I try to keep the scent, but I wore it too often. I had hoped that the scent would rub off on my things, but it was the other way around. It’s been a few months and if I inhale hard sometime, I can catch a small whiff of him. Now, I’ll switch out the shirts- leaving the one I wore under his bed and switch it with a fresh one from his pile of laundry. But I still have my first.   

Senior year started with mind numbing familiarity. Stu and Tatum still together. Sidney complains and for some reason Billy sits next to her listening to her complain. It was weird how empathetic he was to her, it felt inauthentic. I spent my days talking to Tatum so Stu couldn’t talk to her, and my nights working or driving. My father sold me his old car and with the money I had made at the video store with Randy. Randy was nice, in love with Sidney, but that didn’t stop us from after-hour activities. He liked me because I was a girl, and he thought girls talked. So, he was always talking to me about what the girls talked about. He had good movie recommends though. Which in turn let me recommend them to Stu. Stu frequented the video store. Always a horror movie. He used to mainly ask Randy, but if Randy was busy, he asked me. I recommended this Italian movie to him once, 

“It’s not what you usually get, but it’s really good!” 

“Bloody?” with a raised eyebrow. He studied the cover. He was so beautiful. 

“Oh, hell yeah. Super gory.” 

“Fuck yeah, thanks babe,” he winked and went to check out with Randy.  

My heart had skipped a beat. I smiled the rest of the shift.

A few days later, when he came to return the movie, he sought me out praising me.  

“You are a God!” He marched in with his usual confidence.  

I must have looked crazy. The smile on my face was unimaginable, which made Stu even more animated. He jumped at me grabbing both my arms, “A God!” 

“Stop,” trying to bite down my smile, “It’s good though, right?”  

“Awesome, the glass falling? A genius!” He kissed me quickly on my forehead. 

I had to shake out of his grasp, I was getting embarrassed. He squeezed a little extra hard before letting me go, “What’s next doll?”  

Now, every time he comes in, I make sure to have a new movie waiting for him. And he always calls me doll. 

Yesterday, I was on the phone Tatum. She was once again asking to switch out the movie. I half paid attention as I paced around my room in her boyfriend’s t-shirt.  

“He doesn’t even check now! He says he wants to be surprised. So now I have to put in the movie and watch him spazz out when it says Rape Murder 5!” 

“I’ve never heard of the Rape Murder franchise. Is it good?” 

“You know what I mean!” 

“Yeah, I get it. What do you want instead?” 

“Emma! Please! I’ve been dying to see it and Stu would rather die.” 

“Have you seen Fear?” 

“No,” Tatum sounded annoyed. She never wanted to discuss things. It was either her way or nothing.  

“Well, it’s like half scary more thriller, and bonus it has Marky Mark!” 

“I told you no more scary!” 

“It’s kind sexy,” Fuck I shouldn’t have said that. The last thing I needed was Stu getting hot and bothered around Tatum.  

I could hear her pout, “How sexy?” 

“Pretty hot,” undersell it.   

“Boo! Emma next time please! Twenty bucks!” 

“Fine, but if Stu asks, I’m throwing you under the bus.” 

“Where’s your loyalty?” Uh not with you. 

“I have a reputation to uphold!”  

“Fine…have you seen Emma?”

“Does Clueless count?” Giggling at my own joke.

“Ugh, no! Wait,” then shuffling, ”Ugh, I gotta go. Dewey needs help studying his stupid cop test.”

“I can’t believe they gave him a gun.”

“Me either, talk later. Bye!”

“Bye!”

Click.

I did try to sleep, but frankly I wanted a slurpee. Midnight joy rides past Stu’s house and a blue razz slurpee were becoming a wednesday night tradition. I liked rolling down the windows and angry singing along to my favorite love songs.

When I slowed down, I saw Stu’s car wasn’t parked in his usual spot. Nervously chewing on my straw and picturing the worst case scenario. That he was at Tatum’s. Fucking barf.  Nothing was more nauseating as the thought of them fucking on a couch while the movie I picked out was playing in the background. Completely ignored just like me.

I continued driving around distracting myself from the idea of my movie being drowned out by the wet sounds of slutty high schoolers. I drove a bit further away from town than I usually do. I was about to turn around, when my headlights reflected off brake lights hidden in the tree next to the road. I slowed, still chewing on my straw. I was right next to Casey’s house. I knew who’s car it was before I got a better look, it was Stu’s car. I felt bile rising in my throat, was he fucking Casey again. God, how would I even begin to get back in her inner circle. I was going through every possible thing I could say to her tomorrow when I heard her scream. I’d heard her scream before, she was very dramatic, but there was something different about this scream. It sounded terrified. I sat in my car idling waiting for another but none came. Maybe it was my imagination?

I drove off convincing myself Casey had developed taste and it would be easier to talk to her. We could talk about our favorite horror movies.

Chapter Text

Driving to school was more annoying than usual. I had barely slept. I was going over every possible outcome of Stu cheating on Tatum with Casey. There was just no way I would be able to get back in Casey’s good graces. She’d seen me and Tatum hanging out. Casey was popular and political. The only times I’d really be able to talk to Stu would be at the video store. Which even though Randy and I weren’t an item, Randy was too casual with the amount he touched me. This was just not an ideal situation.

Pulling into school, I was greeted with more annoyances: police cars and reporters. Fuck. Why did I have the overwhelming sense that this involved Sidney? I parked and watched everyone for a moment. A group of girls stood by the news vans. I am pretty sure the reporter they were talking to was the one that was obsessed with Sidney and her dead mom. Everyone moved in packs. It was weird-if someone was walking alone, they were absorbed by teens that looked like a mix of tearful and excited. Hands went over their mouths and the alone teen was absorbed into the fold. My interest was piqued, mainly cause everyone would be gossiping.

I spotted Tatum and Sidney walking together. Tatum was talking with her hands at an unrestrained pace; this was good gossip. I stepped out and waved at them. Sidney saw me first, her face white like she’s seen a ghost. Tatum paused mid-sentence following Sidney’s eye line to me.

“Bitch, get over here right now!” Tatum’s eyes were wide and her voice was sharp .

Slamming my car door behind me, jogging to them with my backpack haphazardly thrown over one shoulder.

“Bitch, what the fuck is going on?” I try to match Tatum’s energy as I got closer. I also try not to look at Sidney, she looks nauseous.

“Casey Becker and Steve Orth fucking ate it!”

“No fucking way,” I thought about her house last night, my mind racing. “Like an accident, or what?”

“No, like Halloween insides on the outsides fucking ate it!” Tatum’s eyes twinkle with morbid enthusiasm.

I thought about Casey’s house again, and the car hidden off road, “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Me too,” Sidney voice was barely audible.

Sidney and I finally made eye contact, and shared our first genuine moment as friends. Horrified for different reasons.

“They’re interrogating everyone. Dewey said they already talked to faculty. Now it’s the students’ turns” Tatum smiles, maybe a little proud of her brother, “He got the call last night. He said it was the worst they’ve seen, even considering…” Tatum stopped herself.

“Yeah,” Sidney was staring down the reporter disgusted, as the reporter nodded empathetically as she interviewed a crying cheerleader.   

“What a cunt,” I scoff. Sidney smiles.

Stu and Billy were waiting by our lockers. They split to their respective partners, in unison putting protective arm around their girlfriends-Tatum with Stu, Billy with Sidney. Then me alone gagging a male high schoolers’ fake bravado.

“Are you okay Sid?” Billy almost looked sincere, but after years of knowing him the puppy dog eyes looked cheap. It was the same eyes he gave when people made him apologize.

“Yeah,” Sidney forced out. Strained.

“So, who are they starting with, babe?” Stu seems normal, like it was any other Thursday.

Tatum sighs, maybe wishing for a fake sincere boyfriend like Sidney, “Dewey said it’s alphabetic.”

“Plenty of time to get my story straight.“ Stu let out a big laugh. The same laugh he gave when he knew no one would laugh at his joke.

“That’s not funny“ Tatum elbows Stu’s ribs sending a pointed look Sidney’s way. She didn’t notice because her face was cuddled into Billy’s chest.

Disgusting.

“Bodyguard Meeks, reporting to duty!” I slammed my locker, and Randy stood saluting me. I laughed. Mainly to be nice, but also from how ridiculous we all look. Paired off in inappropriate perverted pairs.

“I don’t think I’m going to get disemboweled walking to first period.” Randy smiles at my joke, but his eyes quickly dart at Sidney. I get it. He’d much rather be joking with her, but I’m fine for now.

“You never know doll,” Stu said as Tatum and him were walking hand in hand to class, “Could be the perfect time to strike.”

Tatum rolls her eyes.

Randy smiled at me, “What an idiot.”

“Yeah fucking moron,” Billy huffs past us with Sidney clinging to his arm.

I looked at Randy who smiled sweetly at me. He appreciated me. He loved Sidney but appreciated me. Which was nice I guess. I had to smile back.

“What did you hear?” I walk in pace with Randy. Letting his escort me.

“Well, Steve lives right next to me and his mom has been fucking comatose staring out their front window,” Randy walked next to me with his hand in his pockets, “My Dad went over there and he said one of the cops described Steve as lasagna with teeth.”

“Lived,” We stop in front of my homerooms door.

“What?”

“You said lives and he’s lasagna with teeth right now, so.”

“Jesus.”

“Sorry…I don’t know why I said that.”

“Well, grief look different on everyone. I guess your grief is literal.”

“Well, thanks for the escort.”

“Anytime, but after awhile I’ll have to start charging. It’s just no way to run a business if I don’t charge for my services.”

“No I understand,” He was a little funny. Even if I didn’t feel like laughing.

The rest of the day was a blur. Dewey had gotten it wrong; it was random. Sidney got pulled second period, then that set off the dominos for everyone-Sidney, Randy, Tatum, Billy. To be fair, everyone seemed to be in and out. I was walking to English when I pasted Stu in the hallway. He smiled at me, and for a moment, I forgot about the looming police interrogation. All I saw was how he moved. His body was so much larger than everyone else’s. He parted them with grace, like a brand new knife. He looked just so attractive, I smiled wider. He side-checked me, knocking me back into reality, “You’re next doll.”

“For real?” My self esteem was still rebuilding from the push.

“Does it look like I’m joking?” Stu kept walking.

It did. He’s always joking.

But he was right, here I was, sitting in Principal Himbry office being stared down by Himbry,  Sheriff Burke, and Dewey. Feeling my armpits start to sweat.

“Do I talk first?” I tried to look at Dewey for a guide but he was standing behind me.

“Is there something you need to tell us?” Himbry asked, still an asshole even in trying times.

“No.”

Sheriff Burke coughs, “This isn’t an interrogation. We’re just trying to help, so tell us what you did last night.”

“I worked at the video store, went home, talked to Tatum, then got a slushy and went to bed.”

“What kind of slushy?” Dewey piped up. I knew Dewey means it innocently, but I didn’t enjoy the extra questions.

“Blue razzberry.”

“What time?” Great, Now Burke was asking real questions.

“Like ten.”

“Interesting,” Burke said, taking notes.

“I went home right after. You can ask my mom,” I start eagerly searching my backpack for my wallet, “I think the receipt’s in here.”

“That would be helpful, thank you.” Burke smiled, he demanded competence.

I felt all their eyes on me as I searched through crumbled receipts. My hands were sweating by the time I pull out the right one.

Burke toke it from me and smiled again, “Thank you.”

“I went home right after.”

“I think we have everything we need,” Burke looks me up and down, “I’ll let you know if we have any more questions. Thank you.”

The bell rang. I sat slack-jawed. Did I fuck up?

Himbry clears his throat, “You can go now.” Dismissing me.

Everyone is already in the middle of a conversation when I got to our spot. I can’t tell if I should be annoyed I lift out so easily. I am fully tuned into putting one foot in front of the other, Himbry’s half day announcement echoing my steps. Randy pats the concrete on our makeshift bench that is the water fountain.

“I think I’m a suspect,” Randy’s arm wrapped around me. It was more of an oppressive weight than a comfort.

Everyone stops talking.

“Well what did you say?” Stu was almost serious. It was unsettling.

I hid with my face in my hands, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why cause you did it?” Stu laughs.

“No! Ugh, goddamnit, I went on a drive last night.” When I look up Randy is making a face, “What Randy?”

“That’s a really shitty alibi,” Randy rubs my back, giving me no comfort.

“Duh!” Tatum chimes in as Stu wraps his arm around her waist. I felt worse.

“Thanks guys I feel so much better!”

“You didn’t do it, right?” Sidney sounds actually concerned.

“Of course I fucking didn’t!” Randy’s arm tightens around me. A good thing too. I almost punched Sidney. That wouldn’t have made me look better. 

“There’s no way a girl could have killed them,” Stu was matter of fact.

“That is so sexist! The killer could easily be female-Basic Instinct,” Tatum says, and gives me a moment of mercy as she pushes away from his arm.

Randy, sounding very loud and suffocating in my ear, said, “That was an ice pick-not exactly the same.”

“Yeah, Steve and Casey were completely hollowed out,” Stu pushes further from Tatum to enunciate his manly bravado, “The fact is, it takes a man to do something like that.”

I laugh, feeling some relief with Tatum and Stu’s growing distance. My laugh encourages him, Stu winks, and I pretend it was just for me.

“Or a man’s mentality,” Tatum says, slapping his chest.

“How do you gut someone?” Sidney whispers to herself.

There is a serious silence. It’s the first time all day everyone has taken the situation seriously.

“You take a knife and slit them from groin to sternum,” Stu smiles at me-differently than usual.

“It’s called tact, you fuckrag,” Billy looks at Stu like he was a mother reprimanding her child.

The conversation continued as usual. I tried to space out, but I was focused on Stu and Billy’s interactions. Billy just looked at Stu like he had to keep him on a leash. I’d been their friends for years; sure, Billy was controlling. But today, it just seemed like Billy was about to snap. I thought more about last night, especially the car parked on the side of the road. Who else could be in on this? 

“I feel sick,” Randy’s arm is thrown off me as I stand up suddenly.

“You okay?“ Randy looks up at me with puppy-dog eyes.

“I just feel sick. I’m sorry. I’ll see you at work?”

All I heard as I walked away was a meek “Okay” from Randy, followed by laughter from Stu.

I didn’t drive away for a moment; I sat in my car trying to focus on my breathing.

I had spent most of last night trying to decide if the scream I heard was real. Now, I spent all day knowing that it was, and that truth came with some harsh realities. If the scream was real, so was Stu’s car. I’m not stupid. The worst part was sitting and realizing that I didn’t care if it was true. If I’m being honest, I felt something I’d never felt before. It was almost jealousy, but not quite. I couldn’t put it into words-a pit in my core, coming to terms with being a terrible person. I didn’t want to be horrible. I had fantasized of doing the same thing to Casey at some point. I would go to another place as she talked to me-a place where I was bashing her head against the desk over and over again. I had toyed with the idea, at least.

My passenger door opens and I scream-ripped out of my thoughts.

“God, relax, doll face!”

Clutching my chest, I realize Stu has gotten into my car. I try to steady my breathing, mortified by my loud emotions, “I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“On edge? Yeah, I guessed.”

“Fuck,” my forehead hits my steering wheel. I wish I were invisible.

“You really think you’re in trouble?”

I turn to Stu, who looks concerned. I’ve never seen him look like that-like he cared what happened to me. It brought tears to my eyes.

“I’m just nervous,” swiping away the few rogue tears that fell.

Stu’s expression changes. He hardens. I brace myself for the ridicule of my emotions.

“You’ll be fine,” then Stu got out of my car.

I watch through my windows as he walks with purpose to his car. I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting in my car. Only a few cars were left, and they were mostly faculty. Fuck, I was probably late to work.

Chapter Text

“Do you still want to hang out tonight?”

Randy is looking at me, expectant. I realize I totally forgot I had made plans with him after work. My parents left this morning for a weekend at a romance novel convention of all things. Mom is nominated for cover art she had done for a book called Lord of Scoundrels. Dad probably wants to blow his brains out by now.

“Given the circumstances, I should probably come over,” Randy is struggling to maintain eye contact with me, “Safety in numbers, and all that.”

“So, no fooling around then?” I was trying to sound serious.   

“Well no…but, I mean, we can do both.”

I laugh, Randy is flustered and sweet.

A few months ago, I gave him a ride home and, on a whim, I asked him if he wanted to come in and smoke. I didn’t really even believe he would take me up on it. He didn’t seem like that kind of guy. Surprisingly, he was. My parents were out on their therapist recommended standing Friday night date. Randy was really nervous, more neurotic than usual. He kept picking up all my knick-knacks. He moved like he was investigating. It was probably the first time he’d been in a girls room alone. Then it occurred to me. It was my first time having a guy in my room alone, it was strange but not too anxiety provoking. I pulled out my plastic VHS case of Labyrinth off of my bookcase.

“Isn’t that a kid’s movie..” Randy trailed off when I opened the case revealing my stash.

“No, and it’s not just a kids movie.”

“Well it can’t be that good if it’s replaced by weed,” Randy joined me sitting cross legged in front of my collection.

He poked through the collection with raised eyebrows, only a few nods of approval. I watched him while I rolled a joint. That’s when I had the first odd thought-he wasn’t horrible looking. He wasn’t Stu…

“So I married an axe murderer?”

“You want to watch?” I licked my joint to seal it.

“Why not,” Randy shrugged, loading the movie into my VHS player.

I moved to the bed lighting my joint as I settled in. Randy looked around nervous about sitting on my bed. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. I took a drag then handed it to Randy. He sat down and took a competent drag of my joint. His back tensed, embarrassed to cough.

The movie started and Randy sat rigid on the edge my bed.

“You want a better seat?” I patted the spot next to me.

Randy nodded and slid closer to me, more for the pillows I thought. As the movie played, we passed the joint back and forth till it was just a stub. In the corner of my eye, I saw Randy nervously look at me. I turned and caught him.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Shocker.”

“Do…Would you be interested in-“

“Wow, really?”

“You didn’t even let me finish!”

I stared at Randy, waiting for him to make his point. He looked nervous, then his eyes drifted to my mouth. He leaned in and gave me a sweet, nervous kiss. His hand brushed my cheek holding me still as his confidence built. When he realized I wasn’t stopping him, I was actually reciprocating, his hand moved into my hair and his kisses grew in intensity. Our hands were curious and roaming. I had never really kissed a boy before. Only a few quick party kisses. This one felt different. I was intentional and exploratory. My legs curved around him and I pushed myself up to straddle him. I decided to take the initiative. We abandoned the movie, making out till after the credits faded into blackness. My room was dark, and in the darkness, we got bolder.

“Do you want me to stop?” Randy asked, pulling at my shirt. 

“No,”my voice breathless and urgent.

Randy was biting down on my nipple before my shirt fully slipped off of me. Apparently, Randy was a fan of my decision not to wear a bra today. Our jeans pressed together as he grabbed my ass pulling me down onto him. Leaving a empty frustrating feeling due to all the layers. He pulled me against him a few times while his tongue made haphazard circles around my nipple. The other hand palming at my other breast. Randy was being greedy and rough. I figured he was gorging himself just in case this was his first and last time to touch a woman.

“Can I try something?” Randy lips were wet. I nodded.

Randy pushed me off of him and onto my back. The cold air hit my nipple making it almost painfully hard. Randy climbed back onto of me and kissed me once more, his hands pulling at my jeans. When he got the button undone, his kisses drifted lower.

I thought about Stu as Randy took my underwear off. It wasn’t a cute pair, but Randy looked so adoringly at me as he got on the knees pulling my hips to the edge of my bed.

I felt his breath before his tongue. I gasped, encouraging Randy. He licked slowly then rapidly, experimenting with which flicks of his tongue made me moan. He was eager.

Of course I was wishing this was Stu but Randy was practice. Stu hadn’t saved himself for me. Why should I save myself for him?

Randy reached up, cupping my breast pinching my nipple between his index and middle finger.

“God,” Randy moaned on me. The vibration along with the enthusiasm sent me over the edge.

My thighs could’ve crushed Randy but he kept going. Licking and sucking though my orgasm that another piggybacked. My back arched and I cried out.

I caught my breath as Randy sat back, wiping his mouth. He climbed back onto the bed with me, kissing my neck as I came down.

“Where did you learn that?”

“The movies,” Randy laughed.

I sat up, looking down at Randy, who was still fully clothed. I smiled down at him. I leaned in to kiss him. The kiss wasn’t one that people in love share-just affection.

Now, Randy was comfortable in my home. We had defined our relationship as mutually beneficial. We were both practicing for people we actually wanted to be with.

Randy flopped onto my bed, “Where are your parents again?”

“At some romance novel thing… Should I call them?”

“You haven’t called them?”

“Fuck, okay!” I look at the blinking machine next to my phone I got for my birthday.

“Maybe don’t mention that you’re a suspect.”

“Thanks, jackass.”

I call the number my mom left for the hotel. She answers on the second ring.

“You’re just now calling me!”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I had work.”

“It’s okay, God, I’m just relieved. Wait, your dad just came back with ice. Honey, she’s okay.”

“I told you,” I could hear him as he got closer to the phone. He must have taken the phone from my mom, “I had to talk her out of coming home twice already.”

“You do not need to come home. I’m fine. How’s the convention?”

“Who cares about the convention!” My mom grabbed back the phone. “We can be back home by tomorrow. Until then, your dad has a gun in a safe-“

“What the hell?”

“It’s under our bed, the combination is your birthday. Be careful-it’s loaded. Maybe you can have a sleepover. Is Tatum free?”

“I have a friend over right now.” Randy perks up.

“Is it Randy? Don’t you have any bigger boyfriends?” My dad said. I laugh-not at the joke, but the visual of my mom and dad with their ears pressed together, fighting over the phone. I like them getting along.

“Please don’t get pregnant.”

“Mom!”

“I’m just worried!”

“I think I’ll be fine.”

“Okay sweetie. We’ll have the news on, and I’m calling every hour. If you don’t answer, I’m calling the police.”

“Okay, Mom. I love you. Love you too, Dad.”

“Love you sweetie!”

“Be safe!”

I hang up. I roll my eyes at the the overprotection. It was probably necessary, but I felt safe. For some reason, I don’t feel in real danger. I couldn’t imagine being the next victim.

“Are they coming home?”

“No,” I crawl onto the bed, joining him. Finding a spot against his chest, his arm secures me in my place, “Do you think it’s gonna happen again?”

“Us?”

“Shut up,” I say while pinching his side.

Laughing, Randy kisses me. Once he pulls away, I see the dreadful shift in his eyes. Affection. “What if it wasn’t really a secret anymore?”

“You want to be my boyfriend?”

“Is that so bad?”

“No, it’s just I thought we were just fooling around until Sidney-“

“Don’t bring up Sidney.”

“Why?” I pull away. Randy sits up with a self righteousness I do not find flattering on him.

“It’s not only about Sidney.”

“What does that mean?”

Randy is off my bed now, refusing to make eye contact with me. It’s annoying.

“I’m not stupid, okay?” Randy is at my door at this point.

“Are you leaving?”

“I’ll call you.”

“Fine.”

Randy shuts my door behind him. I lie back in my bed, avoiding having to deal with what he said. What did he fucking know? My front door slams and I sit up.

I smoked and decided I was going to shower to get that loser off me. Ugh, he wasn’t a loser, but what the hell! Why did he need to make me feel like this?

The water is a little too hot, but after smoking, it makes me feel like I’m in a sauna. My cd player fills the room with a mixtape that my mom had made me as a birthday gift. It was filled with old songs from the ‘70s because she wanted to show me “good music”. I’m singing along to the Hollies when I hear a creak. It takes me a minute to figure out if I’m high or if I’m actually hearing something. Then, my bathroom door opens. Hollies fades into Andy Gibb. Frozen, I watch the figure’s shadow reflected from my bathroom’s light onto my shower curtain. I can make out the shapeless figure as it reaches for my curtain. I try blinking but it doesn’t go away. My thighs press together to stop me from pissing myself.

“Hello,” a pathetic voice I don’t recognize as my own manages to choke out.

My curtain is ripped off the shower rod. I scream but it’s choked down as I stare at a ghost mask with a mouth twisted in its own silent scream. Mocking me. The figure holds a Bowie knife over its head.

“Stu?” I don’t even realize I’ve said it. I notice the figure doesn’t move. Just breathing. I also notice that I don’t really try to cover myself. We’re both standing, staring at each other. The water hits my side, bouncing onto the black cloak. It happens quickly. The Bowie knife comes down, slicing my arm. I don’t even yell. Instinctively, I just grab my arm. My back hits the tile on the shower, and I cry. I’m not sure that whats happening; I can’t breath right. The figure reaches out holding my cheek, making me make eye contact with the black eyes of the mask. But I feel something. I feel like there’s care in the touch and behind the mask. “Thank you…”

The figure backs away, taking in my pathetic state. He grabs my shoulders and throws me against the tiles. My head bounces off the pink tile, and everything goes black.

It comes back in phases. Randy is there. The water is still running. Dewey is at my house. I’m in the back of an ambulance. It takes several blinks before the tunnel vision fades. I miss the comfort of the figure holding my cheek. I’m cold.

My hair is still wet, I’m naked, only clothed by EMT’s blankets, which is not only uncomfortable with the all the people around me but also because it’s cold. Randy stands outside the ambulance, pacing and chewing his thumbnail. Randy nods at Dewey as Dewey ignores him, speaking into his shoulder radio. A nice-looking EMT lady is the first to notice that I’m back in my brain, “Hey, kid, welcome back.”

“Am I naked?”

“Yes.”

“Did everyone see?”

The EMT looks at me with a sympathetic frown, and my skin prickles.

Randy’s eyes snap to me, he tries to climb into the back of the ambulance as a rougher male EMT holds him back.

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

“Really?” The EMT looked annoyed on my behalf, which I appreciated because I’m unable to make a facial expression.

“I’m fine,” I manage to say.

“No, she’s not,” the nice-looking lady EMT says.

“See you at the hospital,” the rougher EMT forces Randy out and slams the door. I can see Randy looking clueless in the red and blue lights outside my home. I guess the ambulance started moving because Randy got smaller until he was just a blur.

“Your boyfriend is an idiot.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I say, staring forward. I think they laugh.

Chapter Text

A concussion. The cut wasn’t that bad. Just some stitches. Now, I'm stuck at the station, waiting for Burke to talk to me. The hospital gave me scrubs. Dewey let me call my parents, and they said they’d be home by tomorrow morning.

Burke was too busy dealing with Sidney. Apparently, she had been attacked right after me. I have never been so furious. I was attacked first. I am the one sitting here without underwear, barefoot, with dry blood in my hair, and everyone was talking to Sidney. Gale saw me come into the station and didn’t even give me a second look. I bet if I left right now, no one would even notice. Dewey is standing above Sidney, rubbing her back. That’s just unprofessional.

Two cops brought Billy in. Finally. I sit up straight, looking to see Stu being dragged in behind him. But he isn’t. So, they didn’t catch him, or am I crazy? I’m pretty sure I’m not crazy the “Ghostface”-that’s what everyone called him at the station-that attacked me was tall like Stu. I got the same feeling in the pit of my stomach like with Stu. I’m positive it’s Stu.

“There you are!” Randy runs towards me. He looks so fucking stupid.

Randy throws his arms around me. I try to reciprocate because I know that’s what’s expected of me. I don’t know how he doesn’t feel me vibrating with anger. Randy is off on a tangent about shit I didn’t care about.

“I waited to talk to you at the hospital for hours. Then, when I finally talked to the right nurse, she said they had taken you to the station already. It was fucking annoying, honestly. Like, I know they knew I was waiting for you.”

“Sounds awful.” I try to sound as icy as possible.

Randy sighs, maybe with self reflection. “Do you need anything? Like a Coke, or I don’t know, I could talk to one of the-“

“I’m cold.”

Randy nods, and then runs off. I did say this mainly to get Randy to leave me alone, but I am cold. Again, I’m sitting here with only scrubs protecting me from the station’s air conditioning. By the time Randy had found me, the water running on me went cold, and my lips were blue. I felt biblically cold.

Randy returns sooner than I want him to with a Woodsboro PD sweatshirt. It’s oversized and appreciated. I pull it over my head just as Burke finally calls my name.

Sidney is crying while Tatum holds her. They walk past me and Tatum gives me a nod in recognition. I arguably have had a worse night than Sidney, and all I have for comfort was Randy. They are not being good friends to me right now. It hurts my feelings more than it should. I decide that this is stupid, and that I need to get over it.

Burke offers a seat and tea. A nice touch. He looks at papers with handwritten notes. I can tell by the bad handwriting they are Dewey’s. Burke abandons them and goes from memory.

“So, Randy Meeks found you in your bathroom, injured and unconscious. What I want to know is what happened before that?”

“I went to work after school. Then after work Randy came over, we talked and he left. I showered, and then I think you guys are calling the psycho Ghostface? They broke in, cut me, hit my head against the title. And I guess they thought I was dead, cause after that, it was lights out.”

“Why was Randy coming and going from your house?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“What’s your relationship?”

“Are you serious?”

“This is a serious investigation.”

“Well, you can note that we blow each other.”

Burke sighed, “I know this has been a hectic evening for you.”

“Are you fucking joking?”

“That language isn’t-“

“You know what, it seems like you are too far up Sidney’s Prescott’s ass to interview the other teenage girl who was attacked and left naked for dead. So, the next time we speak it will be with a parent or lawyer present. Thank you.”

I am so mad I don’t realize I have slammed the door until every cop in the station turned in unison. I storm out righteously, hearing Burke call for me once, but then tell Randy he couldn’t leave yet.

Outside the station, that Gale lady doesn’t even acknowledge me. She is yelling with the camera man holding a rag to her face. I can’t even get my fucking fifteen minutes? I’m just so boring compared to Sidney, which is the biggest insult I don’t know if I can bear. I start crying. I don’t know how to get home or if I was even allowed to go home.

“Hey it’s okay,” Dewey reaches his arm around my shoulders. He is trying to comfort me, but I just cry harder.

“No, it’s not!” I sob into his shoulder. It’s disgusting. I’m being pitiful. Dewey wraps his arms around me.

“What do you need right now? Let me help.”

“I want to go home.”

“Um, I don’t know about that.”

My crying gets more intense. Where am I supposed to go then? Then my panic stops. Everything gets clear. I look up at Dewey with a tear-stained face, the kind of face I know will tug at his heart strings. I see him start to melt. His eyebrows soften and he looks like he wants to fix me.

“Dewey, can I please go home?”

“Uh, I, I think they’ll probably be done. Okay. I’ll take you home.”

Dewey spends the car ride telling me what Randy had said happened. Dewey is an awful cop. Randy had said that we got into a “disagreement” and he left angry but he felt bad and came back with snacks to apologize. That’s when he heard my CD player skipping and found me in my shower naked, cold, and becoming blue. He called the cops after he turned the water off. Dewey says I was lucky because it shouldn’t be that bad of a clean up. Yeah, I feel very lucky.

When we get to my house, Dewey’s right in his guess: the police cars are gone. I thank Dewey for the ride.

“Will you do me a favor and just not spend the night here?”

“Don’t worry, Dewey. I’m just getting a few things, then spending the night at a friend’s.”

“Oh, a boyfriend’s?”

“No,” I close the passenger door.

He waits for me to get inside before he drives off.

The front door is unlocked, which is dangerous considering there was a killer on the loose. I guess the cops were operating under the belief that lightning doesn’t strike twice. My house feels violated. All the boot imprints on the carpet runner on my stairs. I felt bad for my house. It’s so quiet the walls must hurt. I’m halfway up the stairs when I hear the running of water through pipes. He’s here. The feeling of dread doesn’t creep in, it’s nerves. The same nerves when I would walk past him in a hallway.

At the top of the stairs, I find the snacks Randy had gotten me in the hallway, dropped and forgotten: Skittles and a sprite. Wow, how romantic.

The light in my bathroom is illuminating the snacks: soft. Not my usual lights. The door is cracked open, sending a beam of light across the dark hall. The light perfectly illuminated the scuff mark left from the gurney on the hallway wall. What was waiting for me in the bathroom felt warm and inviting, yet the violence from hours ago kept creeping in, trying to sour me.

The pipes turn off, leaving my walls still. My hands instinctively goes to my hair, which feels brittle between my fingers. I realize I hadn’t even gotten a chance to actually wash my hair.

My bathroom door opens, and the soft light floods my hallway, feeling abrasive. Stu walks out.

He sees me and jumps, “Jesus, Doll, you scared me.”

I bark a laugh. He smiles, understanding the irony.

“The cops left your door unlocked.”

I laugh again, my laugh strains. This is absurd. The professionals leave the victim’s front door unlocked and the killer just walks right in. I must have lost myself a little because Stu is holding my shoulders. My laughing stops immediately because of the need for a deep breath.

“I did want to help.”

Peeking into my bathroom before entering. Nervous about what I would see. My shower curtain is gone, but the bathroom is clean compared to the crime scene it was. The CD player is held together with tape. Not a permanent fix, but my parents would buy me another out of pity. My bathtub is full of water, the mirror fogging slightly from its warmth.

“Get in.”

I turn back to him with a raised eyebrow.

“I won’t peek,” Stu holds his hands up innocently and backs away, “I swear.”

I shut the bathroom door behind me and my cheeks flushed with the heat. As I pull the scrubs off, my body prickles with the eroticness of being naked around Stu, even if there is a room separating us. The tub is inviting and smells like the lavender epsom salt I keep under my sink. My head slips under the water, and my mind wanders to all of the different things he could find around my room. I wonder if he’ll take keepsakes. It’s nice to imagine he would.

The conditioner sits in my hair trying to undo the damage the night had done. I sit only relaxing a little, but really I’m trying to hear Stu walk around the house. I hear footsteps near the door, and then a knock. I hug my knees to my chest as Stu comes in. He doesn’t really wait, but his eyes are closed.

“I’m not looking, I swear!” He holds out a cup, “I just thought you might want this. It’s water.”

I take it from him, having to reach because he supposedly isn't looking. “I’m almost done.”

“Oh, okay.” He uses one hand to cover his eyes. The other is on his hip. I like him being in here with me, it feels natural.

“What are you doing out there?” I take a sip of the water.

“Honestly, I was snooping.” The hand not covering his eyes lifts up as its own white flag.

“Oh, well, you should snoop around my tapes. Specifically, Labyrinth.”

“On it.” Stu hurries out of the room.

I finish the water as fast as I can. I try to wash out the conditioner, but it’s a little difficult with the bandage on my arm. There is another knock.

Stu comes in with the tape box. My hands cover myself, but he’s making sure to maintain eye contact.

“Stu!”

“Are you kidding me?” Stu opens the box to show my stash. “You only have papers.”

“Let me get the conditioner out and I’ll roll you a joint.”

“I told you I’d help you.” Stu hands me the box, kneels by the tub, and grabs my empty cup. He uses it to wash the conditioner out.

I’m still. I can’t believe he’s doing this. His fingers are raking through my hair. He’s being so gentle. It’s unfamiliar but deeply wanted. I try to memorize this feeling of intimacy. Commit it to every inch of myself, so years later, I’ll still remember the goosebumps.

“You didn’t keep your eyes closed this time.” I open the box and balance it on the ledge. I am playing multiple dangerous games. I start to roll even with my shaking hands.

“I’m trying to be good.” His fingers feel like heaven running through my hair.

I close the box, tossing it far away from the water. Licking the joint closed, I turn towards him. “Already get a good look?”

I light the joint and watch the flame reflect in his eyes. He has a look in them that is different. Taken aback, maybe? I pass him the joint. “I have no idea what you mean,” Stu says, smiling at me-a real smile that I hadn’t seen before. A smile that meant I was playing too. He maintains eye contact with me as he pulls my hair playfully. “You’re done, by the way,” Stu gets up and takes a drag as he leaves me.

I run my hand through my hair, making sure he’s right. He is. I get out of the tub. He left a robe on the counter. What a nice touch.

Stu is waiting in the hallway for me. He hands me back the joint and I take another drag.

“Do you need anything else, Doll?”

“Why are you being so nice?”

“I don’t know, I’m feeling generous,” He looks me up and down and there is a calculation behind his eyes.

“You want to watch a movie?”

“I already picked one out.”

Chapter Text

Labyrinth is paused on the screen in my room. I laugh, “You’re kidding me.”

“What are you talking about? You love this movie.”

I hit play on the VCR and crawled onto the bed. Stu follows me. He flops on my bed with a level of familiarity and comfort that I didn’t even feel in my room. He accidentally bumps into my bandaged arm, making me wince.

“Ow, fuck,” I grab my arm, hoping the pressure will help.

“Oh, fuck,” Stu sits up straight, “I’m sorry.”

He brushes some hair behind my ear. He looks so concerned, like a puppy who didn’t mean to bite while playing.

“It’s okay,” I smile. The fire-like pain suffocates as my breathing halts in my throat. The apologetic concern from Stu surges something inside of me.

We settle into a comfortable position. Stu ends up leaning against my shoulder. I take the opportunity to memorize what his hair smells like. It’s strong and sporty, with a hint of lemon-maybe? I’m not sure. I remember seeing a Calvin Klein cologne in his room. But, his scent was different. His pheromones seeped through the commercialized product. He smelled strong and unruly. Like he had been running through the woods. Salty. It was intoxicating. We pass the joint back and forth until it’s nothing.

The movie plays on and the weed complements Jim Henson’s puppets.

“You think I could pull that look off?” Stu points at one of David Bowies more elaborate outfits.

“If you want, I can do your make up like that. I think it would really complement your eyes.”

“You might want to ease up smart ass, some people might say you’re unappreciative.”

“Unappreciative?”

“Well, look at it this way, now you’re not a suspect.” Stu lifts his head to smile at me and my blood freezes. He did this for me? “I told you you’d be fine.” Stu continues, then puts his head back on my shoulder.

David Bowie goes on, “Just fear me. Love me. Do as I say and I will be your slave.”

“I’ve always thought that line was so romantic,” I confess.

“Of course you have,” Stu laughs, “You’re a sick fuck, Doll face.”

I smile at Stu, who sits up so he can look me in the eye. I have a barely controllable urge to kiss him.

“Sick?”

“Don’t worry, you’re in good company,” Stu says, sitting up and taking a quick look at my lips.

We’re playing a game.

“You don’t think that’s sweet?”

“Of course I do. I love adoration,” Stu says. Stu smiles as he picks at a  “You remember when we first met?”

“Yes.” I says, my hand automatically goes to my half-dried hair-a nervous habit.

“You’ve always been very sweet to me.” His voice softening with sincerity.

“I would do anything for you.” I tell him, meaning it, and Stu gently takes the piece of hair I’m playing with. His hand twists a lock of my hair before moving to trace his index finger down my spine.

“Anything? I don’t know if you can handle that, Doll face,” Stu whispers, leaning into me. Stu is teetering on the ledge. I know him so deeply. I know what he looks like when he is about to kiss a women, but this is a different kind of kiss waiting on his lips. One of knowing, truly knowing and loving…me. I can’t afford to move; I can’t lose a single moment.

His hand that had traced down my back now rests on the curve of my hip. It’s electric being caged between his arms. His body broad and expansive. My hand aches, and I quell it by tracing the outline of his jaw. It’s strong and jagged. Under his gaze, I can see my reflection in his eyes. I look like a doe, willingly in a field waiting for a mountain lion-innocent, vulnerable. I bet he’s rock hard.

“You’re so beautiful,” Stu says, then he pounces. Suddenly, he’s completely on top of me. My robe is clinging to modesty, yet I feel the zipper of his jeans pressing against my bare pelvis. I was right. I can feel his hard cock straining against the denim. My bare leg rounds against his legs pushing him harder against me causing a spark to ignite. The friction awakening my clit.

Despite the vulgarity, Stu is looking down at me, studying every line in my face. Stu pulls himself against me, making my mouth drop open and a cry escapes. Stu’s eyes roll back, and he looks down. He doesn’t afford me the same opportunity to study the effect I have on him. My hand hooks under his arm and holds him firmly by the shoulder, the other pushes his face back up to meet my gaze.

“I going to make you moan for me, Doll.”

Stu has one arm holding him above me. His other arm snakes between our bodies, till his hand cups my bare sex. His index and middle finger make a lazy circle around my clit and my brows furrow. I wish he would just kiss me. It’s embarrassing to have him watch me; the intensity of his gaze leases me exposed. It feels too raw. I can’t bring myself to pull his face down to kiss me. I don’t think he would let me. He’s focused on watching my mouth open and bite down on my lip as he experiments with the ways he can make me moan. His fingers work my clit, messy and urgent, making my body respond before I can think. I’m already wet just from being in bed with him, now I’m soaked. The noises are vulgar and my cheeks burn from the blush that is assaulting me. His fingers are working quick and firm. I wonder as to how he figured me out so quickly. I wonder for only a moment, when my whole body stiffens about to snap. I come for him; and I feel his eyes on me, taking in the sight of explicit ecstasy.

My hand that had gripped his neck drifted down his back, and I feel the sprinkle of sweat that prickles his skin. Stu breathes heavily above me, and the fingers that were just fucking me are brought to my lips. I can see Stu’s breath hitch as he slips his fingers into my mouth. My wet tongue sucking myself off of them trying to get to the center where Stu is. I bite down on his fingers. Stu curses as he grinds against me. I hum against his fingers as he grinds against my overly sensitive cunt. I release his fingers from my teeth and they make their way back down. Combined with my previous orgasm and my spit, he slips two fingers in very easily and his thumb works my clit. My eyes roll back.

“Fuck!”

Stu’s fingers curl inside me with a renewed vigor. Making a mess of my cunt. Stu leans down and his lips find my neck. Placing a sweet kiss against my jugular. The kiss is replaced by a long exaggerated lick, causing my eyes to flutter. Then Stu bites down. The spring inside me snaps and I cry out through this orgasm. In the next few moments, I see nothing but stars.

He hides his face by biting and sucking on my neck. He pulls his fingers out of me, leaving me with that familiar lonely feeling. My eyes are half shut when I turn toward his face. We brush noses as he tries to pull away, but there is a gravitational pull causing us to stay close. He leans in first, almost brushing my lips, then I return the half-attempt of a kiss. It feels like we’re dancing for a moment. He bridges the gap, and there is a tender kiss placed against my bruised lips. It feels wonderful-so soft and perfect. I smile into it as he grabs the base of my neck, greedy for the control. It’s the most at ease I’ve ever felt. My arm falls around his body, and I pull him closer to me. Chest to chest, I feel our breathing syncing. If I had to describe how it felt in his arms, I would say sheer bliss.

Stu pulls away first. His hand goes to his bottom lip, tapping it. Contemplating. When he sits up, he looks down at me, and adjusts my robe. He stares straight ahead for a moment.

I push myself up and I stare at his profile for a moment. It’s monumental. I know I’m looking at a killer, a killer that’s hurt me and made me cum. A killer that I desperately want to fuck me and that I need to love me. I should be scared, I should bang down the doors of the nearest psych ward. But I actually feel like I am the closest to true love that anyone has ever been in every lifetime. That we are a testament. That we are soulmates

Stu smiles to himself and gets up. For one terrifying moment, I think he will leave. Instead, he undresses to his boxers, tossing his white undershirt to me. “For your collection.” He smiles, and crawls into my bed. I sniff his shirt, which makes him laugh. Taking off the robe and slipping on his shirt, I feel intoxicated by his scent. I slip under the blanket next to him, our legs linking together under the quilt.

I settle into his arms, and with my eyes closed, I smile.

“Can I ask you something?” I ask.

Stu hums in response.

“How did I look?”

I feel Stu laugh a little, knowing he’s smiling.

“Delicious.”

My stomach twists into knots.

“Good to know.”

It takes a while to fall asleep. I don’t want to miss a moment with him. But, unfortunately, sleep inevitably comes, and my dreams are warm, echoing his heartbeat.

I woke up alone, my hand reaching out to a spot where the last of the body warmth had drifted away from. I’m crushed. The t-shirt is still sickly intoxicating with Stu’s scent. The ordinary loneliness washes over me, waiting for me after a night of the extraordinary.

If this is the game he wants to play, I’ll play. Cat and mouse.

My phone is ringing. My mom is panicked on the other end of the line.

“You slept in the house alone?”

“It wasn’t that bad. A friend slept over. ”

“Oh, God. I have awful news. It’s snowing in Colorado.”

“Oh no.”

“Your dad is talking to a rental company right now to get a car.”

“Mom, why don’t you both just stay?”

“What?”

“Yeah, just go to the convention I’ll be fine.”

“Are you high?”

“Mom, it’s 7 a.m.”

“And?”

“No, I’m not. You’ve never driven in snow, so just stay till you can fly out.”

“I’m the adult! I make the decisions, and I will walk to California if I have to!”

“Okay, just call me after school, okay?”

“I love you. Be safe, sweetie. I’m calling Dewey.”

“Okay, Mom. Love you.”

I stood in the mirror, deciding if I wanted to show off my bandages or my new hickey at school. I decide to just show off my legs, throwing on a collared sweater and a mini skirt before heading to school with my new confidence. Happy to be in on the secret.

Chapter Text

None of the reporters even try to stop me while I walk into school. They are all talking about Sidney. Apparently, to get noticed you have to be a nepotism victim. I’m guessing I got there before everyone because I’m not greeted by Randy or Tatum. Or maybe they’re so absorbed in Sidney’s gravitational pull of patheticness that I no longer exist to them. It’s kind of a bummer.

My locker distracts me; my textbooks are a reminder that despite the chaos, I’m also still in fucking high school. We just have to keep going. It’s confusing how I have to continue my days after such a cataclysmic avalanche of events. My chemistry textbook looks laughable.

Stu is standing behind my locker as I slam it shut.

“Fuck!” It takes me a second for my heart rate to go back down. I push him in his ribs. “God, stop fucking popping up.”

“No can do. Unfortunately.”

“What do you need?” I smile up at him.

The halls are empty. It is still early. Students are just now trickling in.

“I had a dream about you last night,” Stu says, looking me up and down.

“A good dream or a bad dream?”

“Both.”

I’m more paranoid than Stu. I can’t help looking for eavesdroppers while I can feel his eyes focused on me. I’m not used to this, but I could be. I could be anything he needed.

“Jesus, a little paranoid, aren’t you?” Stu laughs at me.

“There is a killer on the loose,” I say, finally making eye contact with him again.

“Well, here comes your little boyfriend to save the day,” Stu says, casually pointing behind me.

I turn and see Randy and Tatum flanking a visibly shaken Sidney. God, this friend group is so incestuous. Stu smiles at Tatum, then holds his hand out, offering her a comfortable spot right at his side. Randy, still concerned with Sidney, readjusts the balance of both their backpacks on his shoulder. Tatum opens her locker, and Stu fiddles with her space, holding a mirror up to himself.

“I heard you got attacked last night, Doll Face,” Stu says.

Tatum unwraps a lollipop and rolls her eyes. Stu messes with something around his neck in the mirror. The chain looks familiar, and I realize that it’s the Saint Rita medallion my grandmother gave me. My hand goes to my neck; it’s bare. Did he take it off in my sleep?

“Oh, did you?” I was getting annoyed but oddly flattered. “Honestly, it was humiliating.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Stu says, staring me down.

“What happened?” A tear-stained Sidney mustered. I had forgotten she was behind me, with pathetic Randy latched at her hip.

“I guess Ghostface made a pit stop before attacking his actual victim.” I tried to be as bitchy as possible, but it was coming off as more pathetic.

“What the fuck is up your ass?” Tatum is defending her actual friend.

“What’s up my ass is that I was at the station too, and neither of you stopped to ask me if I was okay last night!”

“Are you upset I was attacked too?” Sidney says. Tatum gasped, already shocked at Sidney ridiculous but slightly true question. I didn’t even get a chance to defend myself.

“That is so fucked up.” Tatum licks her lollipop judgmentally.

“No! What’s fucked up is how many fucking random people saw me naked last night!” I was unintentionally yelling, which just furthered the pathetic point.

“Oh, I’m sure Ghostface appreciated seeing you in your naked sudsy glory,” Stu sneers down at me. He’s poking at me. Why is he doing this?

Tatum smiled, and I knew that was a bad sign. “Well, Randy told me he found you.”

“So...” Fuck, I was nervous.

“So, why was Randy coming over to your house? Is Randy your boyfriend?” She said that last part louder for the passing students to hear.

I’m becoming too embarrassed. My cheeks burn; I feel like a child. Stu is looking at me from behind Tatum with venom in his eyes. I turn to look at Randy, who is looking at his feet.

“Oh fuck you.” I turn to storm off. Driven by embarrassment instead of anger.

I sat with my knees to my chin, crying on the toilet in the second-floor girls’ bathroom, rethinking the conversation over and over again. This always happened with Stu. I had to go over our conversation twenty times before I decided if he was ever going to talk to me again. This was a new low. Apparently, I was quiet enough that no one heard me because girls flowed in and out without asking if I was okay. They probably didn’t care. I twirled my shoelace around my index finger, letting my tears fall, deciding to embrace the drama. I really didn’t want everyone knowing Randy found me. It was embarrassing. Stu was probably more disgusted than jealous.

I came out of my self-pity when I heard some of the cheerleaders loudly gossiping. They probably wanted to be heard, and once again, I was a trapped victim.

“She was never attacked. I think she made it all up.”

Me?

Another voice was more logical, “Why would she lie about it?”

“For attention! The girl has some serious issues.”

I do not! I have the appropriate number of issues for a teenage girl.

A toilet flushed, and the girl continued, “What if she did it? What if Sidney killed Casey and Steve?”

What a fucking joke. They weren’t even acknowledging that I was also attacked. Bitches. I could see through the crack of the bathroom door a cheerleader doing her makeup. Gossiping. Of course bouncing around in her uniform as she didn’t even have the decency to talk about me. I did listen waiting for them to leave so I could leave.

“What would Sidney want with Steve? She has her own bubble-butt boyfriend, Billy.” The cheerleader’s friend came out of the stall. I recognized her from AP Lit.

“Maybe she’s a slut, just like her mother.” The cheerleader smiled.

She was right. Maureen was a tramp. My own parents had had a run-in with her before. Freshman year, the school had a fundraiser where Maureen got drunk on cheap wine and practically threw herself at my father, hanging on his shoulder, flirting in his ear. My mother was furious. Fortunately, she didn’t ruin too many marriages. I had a suspicion about which divorces were inspired by her.

When the bathroom door closed, I put my feet on the floor, but I saw Sidney exit a stall through the crack in my door. I went back into position. Ouch for Sidney. Those girls are not kind. But if anyone called my mom a slut, I’d fucking deck them. Maybe she was busy peeing, but I doubt it. I assumed Sidney would throw her usual pity party, but instead, she dried her eyes and called herself pathetic. I was envious; she wasn’t experiencing the same social devastation I was.

“Sidney,” a whisper.

Fuck.

This is so dumb. This couldn’t be happening at school. But I hear the boots touch down on the linoleum, and I try to remember if I had looked at Stu’s feet today. I hadn’t, but I know he has a pair of heavy boots in the back of his closet.

I watched Sidney back up, anxiety twisting in my chest. There was no way he could get away with this-unless he killed her. Where would we hide her while he got rid of the costume? Where would we say we were instead? In the gym? Who hangs out at the gym right now? Fuck, I think those goth girls smoke under the bleachers. What an idiot! I’m gonna kill him.

Sidney out runs the Ghostface, as the Ghostface lunges out of the stall. Face planting on the sink. That was embarrassing. Sidney runs screaming out of the bathroom, and the Ghostface takes off his mask revealing literally some random guy from Pre-Cal. I storm out of the stall I’m hiding in, pushing this random asshole into the trash.

“Ow, it was a joke!”

“Are you stupid?” I yell. I kick him.

“I didn’t kill anyone! Jesus, cut it out!”

“Duh, pussy!” I stomp down on his side. He coughs, breathless.

I storm out of the restroom and am confronted with a group of teachers running towards the bathroom. I wait, but they run past me. I’m invisible.

“Due to the recent events that have occurred, effective immediately, all classes are suspended until further notice.”

I sit on the stone ledge in front of the school. Once again, everyone wants to talk to Sidney. The police, the reporters, the principal. All she did was out run a kid playing dress-up.

I turn and see them. Stu is torturing me. His hands are all over Tatum. Tatum and Sidney both have flowers in their hands. Stu hoists Tatum on his shoulder, and I’m suddenly very aware of my how my own body feels. Tatum is small; maybe that’s why he likes her. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to walk hand in hand with me. Am I not pretty enough? Tatum leans into him, and Stu wraps his arms around her. His arms are beautiful. My jaw starts to hurt. I realize I’ve been clenching it. I rub my jaw as Tatum and Sidney walk past me. Tatum rolls her eyes. I see Stu walk away behind her. Sidney is the one who stops to talk to me.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Tatum links her arm around Sidney and tries to get her to star walking again. Huffing. Sidney stand still.

“I’m sorry we didn’t ask if you were okay last night,” Sidney says, smiling at me.

“It’s fine,” I say, looking down at my shoes.

Sidney must have pushed Tatum because I hear her wince in pain.

“Fine,” Tatum says quietly to Sidney. “Stu’s throwing a party. Do you want to come?” Tatum sounds annoyed about having to invite me.

“Maybe. I work later.” I try not to sound too excited about another night in Stu’s room. I try to remember I am supposed to be in a fight with my friends not a focused on looking through my friends boyfriend’s things.

“Well, call me when you get off. Maybe we can get ready together,” Sidney says.

“I will. Thanks, Sidney.” I smile at her; it’s fake.

“See ya,” Tatum says, starting to walk with her arm firmly around Sidney. Sidney waves as she leaves.

I try to find Stu on my way to the parking lot, but I am unsuccessful. Reaching into my backpack, I realize my keys are missing. Two loses.

My keys were sitting in my locker, waiting for me. I close my locker and I hear a scream. A grown man’s scream, but the kind of scream I heard outside Casey’s house. A terrified one. Fuck.

My feet feel like lead; I can’t move. It’s a deep fear-primal. I feel physically small and nervous. It’s different from the feeling in the bathroom. I try to melt into my locker, but it doesn’t absorb me.

Billy walks down the hallway. He’s pushing something into a bag. My eyes widen ashe looks up at me. My shaking hand goes to my mouth. Fuck, Billy would kill me.

Billy stops, looks around, then zeros in on me-like a predator. Billy runs up to me, and I hold up my hands as a surrender. I scream, but Billy puts his hand over my mouth. It’s muffled. His other hand goes around me, and he carries me to the janitor’s closet. He pushes me in.

I start crying in the dark closet. I’m fucked. His hands leave my mouth and move to my neck. He starts squeezing.

“Billy, please,” I struggle out. ”I know, Stu,” It’s all I can get out, but Billy’s hands loosen.

“You know what?” Billy looks so scary. His eyes are full of venom.

I cough, it’s hard to start talking, but Billy slaps me to get me to focus.

“I’ve known since Casey. I didn’t say anything,” I scramble. Billy glares at me. “I won’t say anything. I promise.”

“Why?” Billy’s glare softens.

“I don’t know.” I’m still crying, but my eyes can’t leave Billy’s.

Billy laughs. His hands leave my neck finally. He runs a hand through his hair. He smiles at me.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Billy says.

“What?”

“He’s never going to be with you,“ Billy’s smiles falls, spitting his insults at me. “You won’t even make it through the weekend.”

“And you think you and Sidney are going to walk off into the sunset?”

Billy glares. I hit a nerve. It dawns on me that maybe I won’t be the only one who doesn’t make it through the weekend.

“Fuck, really?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Is that it? This is all a fucking elaborate plan to kill your girlfriend?”

“You don’t know anything.”

“Is it cause she doesn’t put out? Her mother would be disappointed.”

Billy pounces, his hand around my throat-squeezing tight. My hands scratch at his wrists, but he won’t let go. I hit a nerve. Not a nerve about Sidney, but a nerve about her mother. Sidney’s slutty mom. Billy’s own mom had left a few years ago…Oh, that’s why.

“Stop…I’ll…help…” Billy’s eyebrow raises, and he lets me go.
I cough, unable to keep any sort of composure. My eyes and mouth water, and my neck is feels tight.

“What?”

“I’ll help…Oh my God…I’ll help you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m pathetic.”

Billy looks at me, and I watch him settle on not killing me. I can finally stop gorging myself on air.

“Why him?”

I look at Billy. I don’t think he’s asking from a point of jealousy, but more out of morbid curiosity.

“I don’t know…it’s a need.”

“You barely know him.”

“I know him.”

“I know you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“We’re the same…obsessed.”

“We’re not the same.”

Billy steps towards me, calculating. His eyes, searching.

“You’re not even his type.”

I bite my lip hard. This is something I’ve always felt deep down, that there’s something wrong with me that I couldn’t see. That I was unstimulating.

“Stu doesn’t fuck dull,” Billy says, etching another insecurity into my core.

I don’t know why, every time Billy pushes me I can’t resist the urge to push back. Like when we were on the jungle gym.

“But you do. Oh wait, no, you don’t, Sidney’s frigid.”

“Do you have any survival instincts?” Billy steps closer to me. I can’t inhale without our chests touching.

I do have survival instincts. All the alarms are ringing loudly. The tides are turning, it’s not a murderous rage but another kind of rage. I need to get out of here. But I don’t. There is something about Billy that makes me want to tear him a part.

I notice how hard Billy’s chest feels against me as I inhale. I wonder if he can feel my heartbeat.

Billy looks down at my lips.

“Oh, Billy…really?”

“You’ve never?”

“Not once.”

“Not even once?”

Billy’s hand goes to my cheek. I can feel his calluses against my soft cheek. His authenticity is making my teeth hurt. The look of softness in his dark eyes lets me exhale finally.

Billy’s lips feel like petals-maybe nightshade? My cheeks are burning. I’m disgusted by what Billy wants from me. It’s sweetness.

Billy pulls away, looking through those long eyelashes. He’s searching for something in me.

“You deserve more than being a groupie.” With that, Billy is out the door.

At work, all I can think about is Billy’s turn of phrase: a groupie? In my head, an image from Richard Rameriez’s trial sears into my brain. An image I had once seen in a newspaper: a beautiful woman sitting behind him. Its impossible to rationalize that that could be me. Or that that is me right now, destined to always be a row behind him, pining.

Some lady had pulled me away to as where When Harry Met Sally was. I had to guide her to the row of quintessential Rom-Coms. The store was packed tonight, but the Rom-Com section was much quieter than the Horror section right now.

I look up and see Stu knocking a tape out of Randy’s hands. A casual bully. The base of my spine prickles. I look around and see Billy eating Junior Mints, talking to the more “friendly” members of the choir. Billy calling me a groupie, but ready to stick it in any available gash in his homeroom.

I grab a pile of returned tapes from Randy’s cart and try to make discreet attempts to eavesdrop.

“Hey, doll face,” Stu sticks his tongue out at me. I half-smile over my shoulder as I walk to a close enough aisle.

Randy continues, “I just mean, if you were the only suspect in a senseless bloodbath, would you be standing in the Horror section?”

“What? It was just a misunderstanding. He didn’t do anything.”

“You’re such a little lapdog.”

I smile to myself. Randy is so catty sometimes. I continue reorganizing our display of the Alien franchise. A freshman grabs Alien 3 before I can finish.

“Why would he want to kill his own girlfriend?”

“There’s always some stupid, bullshit reason to kill your girlfriend.”

Sometimes I wonder why I am so obsessed with the lesser sex. Men are always so carnal and garish. They lean on violence to the point of addiction. The motive of killing your girlfriend is usually compounded with jealously or lust or envy-any of the deadly sins, really. But, I find it all so uninspiring. A motive centered solely on a vagina? Boring.

I much prefer a motive with some teeth. Something I can really lose myself in. In a way, my own motive is centered around a vagina. But behind the obvious, I like to think there’s almost a omnipotent form of want. The kind of want that is so tried to flesh and blood. A claim. That is really something only women can understand.

I make my way back to the return cart. Randy is still going on and on. 

“Maybe Sidney wouldn’t have sex with him.”

“What? She’s saving herself for you?” Stu asks.

I walk behind Randy. Randy takes a quick look before lowering his voice.

“Maybe. Now that Billy tried to mutilate her, do you think Sid would go out with me?”

I bark a laugh, making my way to the check out counter. Stu’s laugh follows- sharp, malicious and with a sarcastic edge I know makes Randy feel like the small man he is.

I turn my attention to the register, helping the owner out with the growing line of morbid high schooler to rent various poorly written horror movies with B-list stars. It’s robotic, mindless work. I can do this in my sleep, so that makes eavesdropping on the boys that much easier. It’s already pretty easy since Randy starts yelling about Prom Night and everyone being a suspect.

Billy shows up behind Randy, and I watch the color drain from Randy’s face. The dynamic is shifting-Billy and Stu are circling Randy like sharks. They’re being so fucking obvious. I don’t know how the whole town hasn’t figured it out yet.

Stu is holding onto Randy, looking him up and down like he’s imagining where to cut him first. It’s unhinged and…hot. I wonder if Stu ever gets jealous. I wonder if I can make him jealous. Insecurity sneaks back in. Maybe I’m really not his type.

Billy slaps Randy’s face in a soft way that communicates “don’t fuck with me”, then stalks off. Randy turns to Stu, pointing at Billy, and Stu smiles.

The line gets shorter and shorter, and I start to count the drawer, knowing the curfew is coming up soon. A VHS slams on the counter, trying to scare me but failing. I look up, and it’s Billy.

“Did you find everything you’re look for, sir?”

“I did.”

I scan the tape, my eyebrows raise.

“The Lost Boys. How appropriate. That’ll be $2.”

Billy pulls out his wallet and hands me the cash.

“Appropriate?”

“A bunch of teenage boys with a blood thirst.”

“Should I grab Fatal Attraction instead?”

“Fuck you.” My legs start prickling with goosebumps before I see him.

Stu throws his arm around Billy’s shoulder, smiling at me.

“Oh, that’s no way to talk to paying customers.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Make sure to return this by Monday, if you even make it through the weekend.”

I give Billy my most impressive customer service smile as I hand him the VHS. Billy glares at me, shakes off Stu, and stalks out of the store.

Stu smiles at me.

“Kitty got claws.”

“You’re being obvious.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, lay off the Kubrick stares, okay?”

“What are you talking about? Everyone knows I’m a sweetheart.”

Stu smiles up at me. He looks like he has a secret. I thought I already knew all of them. At least, I know a very important one.

“You coming to my fiesta tonight?” Stu continues, looking me up and down.

“Yeah, I should be getting off soon.”

“Yeah?” Stu’s eyebrows raise at my accidental wording. “Wear something cute.”

Stu walks out and I continue counting the drawer.

I get home with a couple hours left until the party. With the curfew it’s like everything is a half-day. I kick off my shoes and call my parents to reassure them I’m still alive. My mom asks me again if I want them to drive back, and I have to tell her again, no. I tell my parents about the party, lying about there being safety in numbers, but really, I know it’s like going into a lion’s den. They’re surprisingly okay with underage drinking when a murder is on the loose. Calmed by the idea of me not being alone when it’s dark out, so long as I sleep at Tatum’s.

I hang up feeling a little excited to get ready, I have to look my best. When my phone rings again.

“What Mom?” I answer, annoyed. I just got her off the phone.

“I’m sorry?” A voice responses. It’s gravely, not one I’ve heard before and definitely not my mom’s.

“Sorry, I thought-um, hi, who is this?”

“Who is this?”

“I asked you first?”

“Well…”

What is this guys deal?

“Well, I think you have the wrong number.”

“I guess so.”

“Alright, well, I got to go…”

“What are you doing?”

“I have to get ready.”

“For what?”

“For a party.”

“You’re going to a party with a killer on the loose? That’s a little dangerous, don’t you think?” He has an edge to the question, like he’s teasing me-flirty.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yuh, huh.”

“What are you gonna wear? Something cute?” The way he says cute. Like it’s a punching point.

Ohhh. The dots connect.

“I’m not sure. There’s gonna be a boy there I really want to impress.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, so I’m thinking no underwear.”

“I don’t know about that. You don’t want to start something you can’t finish, doll face.”

Jack pot. I lay back on my bed, smiling.

“How do you know I have a doll face? Can you see me?”

“Maybe.”

I use just my shoulder to balance my phone as I peel off my skirt. My hands sliding down my legs.

“Then what am I doing?”

There is a pause.

“Do it.” The gravely voice become more raspy, breathless-more recognizable.

“Do what?”

“Touch yourself for me.”

My hand slips into my underwear, and I hear a gasp on the other side of the line. Tracing the familiar paths Stu had forged last night. My breathe hitches.

“You look so sexy,” The voice continues.

“You don’t just have to look.”

“Are you begging?”

“Please, please, touch me.”

“Guess then.”

“What?”

“Where am I?”

I stop, about to push myself up.

“No, keep going.”

My hand sneaks back into my underwear. I move slowly, going through every spot he could see me, but I couldn’t see him.

“Are you outside?”

“No, go faster.”

My hand moves a little faster. It’s hard to think.

“Are you in my closet?”

“Faster, doll face.” He sounds like he’s about to laugh.

My hand moves faster and I bite down on my lip. I feel something building and coiling, “Fuck…please.”

“One more guess.”

“Um, under my bed.”

Ghostface swings open my bedroom door. Startling me into stopping. I hadn’t realized it was cracked. His heavy boots echo on the wood as he walks to a position to look down at me. He has a box next to his mouth, he theatrically hangs up his phone, and the phone I have at my ear cuts to a dial tone. My hand has stopped, but I still feel like I’m on fire.

“Keep going.” I hear the mix of the gravely voice and Stu’s.

My hand moves again and my mouth drops down in a silent moan. I take in Stu as Ghostface. He looks even bigger considering the bulk of the robes. I wish he would take off the mask. I would love to watch him watch me. I’d love to see his lids lowered, his lips plush, wanting me. As if he read my mind, Stu takes off the mask. His face even more desperate than I imagined and hoped it would be. I see a dusting of sweat on his forehead. His eye laser focused on mine, taking in every movement of my face.

“I want to watch you cum for me.”

Fuck, of course I will. My hand moves faster, motivated to please. I want him so desperately on top of me. Claiming new uncharted parts of me. I want to be split open for him. I cry out in climax.

As I cum, Stu pounces on me. He rips my underwear off, diving into me. My hands try to pull at his short hair, but instead grab onto his firm biceps he has wrapped around my thighs. His tongue lapping up every drop of my ecstasy, causing me to coil and snap one more. Him moaning into me as I cum.

“I want to fuck you.” Stu says against me. He climbs up my body and kisses my open mouth, biting and sucking on my bottom lip as I pant.

“I need you.” Is all I can get out.

“Not yet.”

“Why?” I feel tears prick at my eyes, “Why are you teasing me?”

“You think I’m teasing you?” Stu whispers, as he places wet kisses down my neck.

“Yes, you’re so,” Stu fingers drift down and curl inside me, “Mean…” I whine.

Stu laughs against my chest. His body causing my own to vibrate. My breasts feel smothered with all these layers. My sweater and Stu robes. It’s too much. I can barely contain myself.

Stu pulls away and before I can protest. He flips me over, and his hand comes down hard on my ass. I yelp out.

“You think I’m mean?” He slaps my ass again, “That I’m a tease?” Again. Every question is followed by a well deserved smack.

“Yes!” My voice is a throaty cry.

“You think I’m a bad guy?” His finger tips dance over the stinging.

“No,” My voice sounds wet but sure, “Never.” I’m panting.

Stu grabs me by my hips and lifts me to where I’m kneeling but my head is against the bed. My sweater naturally slides down. He uses one hand to make small circles against my stinging ass cheek. The other hand to push down my sweater and draw a line with his finger against my spine. When he gets to the tailbone, his hands cup my ass and I feel his body weight shift.

“You want me so bad, don’t you?” Then I feel Stu’s long tongue take a drag against me.

My eyes roll back and my hands grab the pillow. It’s all I can do to keep from screaming.  Stu continues making lazy wet circles around my clit. From behind it’s hitting deliciously. One hands smacks down on my ass after he flicks my clit. I have never felt so erotic, like I was make for him to taste me. Every time I close my eyes I see fireworks. I am so fucking lucky.

“Please spank me.”

He obliges, this time his hands stays on my ass and I feel his thumb move closer to my hole. Making circles around my rim. He pulls his face away from my pussy, just long enough to spit on it and take a long lick making sure everything is wet.

“So fucking wet,” Stu flicks my clit and his thumb slips inside me, causing me to gasp in a unexpected and delicious fullness. Every thing he does to me unlocks something. I’ve never felt this hot in my life. I call out again, a small part of me considering the neighbors, but not entirely worried.

Stu licks me through my last orgasm. My hips sink back to the bed and, sadly, he pulls away from me. He helps me onto my back and gives me a sweet kiss with his face covered with me.

“Why,” I stop myself embarrassed I couldn’t catch question before it came out.

“Hmm?”

“Why…don’t you want to fuck me?”

“I want to fuck you so bad,” Stu says this like it’s an absolute fact. Like the sky is blue.

“Then, why?”

“I want your first time to be special.”

“How do you know I-“

Stu pushes off the bed. Grabbing the phone and mask he left on my floor.

“You’re right, doll face. You shouldn’t wear panties.”

Chapter Text

I sit at my vanity, a little out of it. I don’t know what’s bringing tears to my eyes. Stu had left as quickly as he’d appeared, and though I feel an ache from not being near him, that’s too familiar. This is different. This is depression. I look at myself in the mirror, and tears just keep falling. I have an awful sinking feeling. It’s more than I can stand.

I open my jewelry box and reveal my razors. I hold one up, thinking about it, while idly running my fingertip along the edge. There’s no pressure, but enough to feel the valley it makes against my intact skin. There was always something very calming about it. Now, I’m disgusted by the distraction. I throw it back in the box.

I think about what Billy said. I think about who will make it through the weekend. I dab my lipstick against my cheeks to manufacture a flush-a blushing bride going to a funeral. It feels devastating. I’ve never been stupid. Naive, but not stupid. There has to be a climax to this movie. It’s been building, and I’m walking into what most would consider a bloodbath.

I look up at the sky, begging for a higher power. God, please. Don’t kill him. I’ll take his place happily.

I make specific choices about my outfit: a sweet short dress paired with a distressed flannel. I glance at my neck-the hickey is visible, but I’ve decided I don’t care. My neck feels especially bare without my necklace. I decide to wear Converse, convinced I’ll have to run at some point tonight.

I smoke a skinny joint as I drive, picking at my nails at every stop sign.

Stu’s lawn is covered in cars. It’s not out of the ordinary, but maybe offensive to some who care about the rest of the town that’s grieving. I park and take one last drag. It’s nice to walk into this a little fuzzy; it makes it a little less real.

The front door is unlocked which is dangerous, especially with a killed on the loose. I guess if you’re the killer it doesn’t matter. It’s busy, and I appreciate being able to absorb into the party. It’s strange how you would never assume there was a masked murderer on the loose. A girl from my AP Lit class waves excitedly to me. The one from the bathroom. Bitch. I return the gesture-its nice to be noticed. Behind her, Randy is dancing with a blonde. I can tell he’s drunk. It would probably be normal if I was annoyed or if it hurt my feelings, but it doesn’t. If anything it makes me feel…pity?

I need something to do with my hands, so I go to the kitchen. There’s Stu, holding a beer funnel. He’s wearing a Hefner robe. In a second, I imagine myself on my knees dressed as a Playboy bunny, holding onto his leg. I think it would make a cute cover. He sees me and smiles. I know there are other people in the kitchen, but I feel the warm of the spotlight. I smile back, joining him at the kitchen island. I take the beer intended for the funnel and sip it. He looks at my neck as I tilt my head back.

“Who gave you that, Doll?” He points with one finger to my hickey. The other guys in the kitchen laugh.

“Randy.” I hold up my hands like “oh no, you caught me”.

The guys laugh harder, and Stu’s face falls-completely not entertained by my inside joke.

“Doubt it,” Stu mumbles as he opens another beer off the ledge of his kitchen island. The beer starts furiously foaming. He empties the bottle into the funnel where it meets an unsuspecting senior. Who desperately tries to chug but coughs. He makes a kink in the hose.

“Jesus fuck, Stu! It’s all foam!”

“Stop wasting beer, fuckhead!”

“Here, kids!” Tatum calls, as she and Sidney walk into the kitchen with bags of snacks. I hear Randy cheer from the other room. I roll my eyes. Unnoticed.

Stu cheers as the senior finished the bottle.

“Oh. That’s mature.” Tatum continues, as her and Sidney cover the kitchen island in various snacks.

“You kids were tarty for the party, so we started without you.” Stu high fives the senior, “My man!”

The senior tries to dry his shirt with a Williams Sonoma kitchen towel. Stu’s mom would not be pleased.

Sidney nods to me, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I tried to call you.”

“Oh…I was…talking to my mom.”

“Please,” Tatum turns to me and lightly pinches my bruised neck, “Randy take you home?”

“Ha. Ha.” I push Tatum’s hand away from me playfully.

“I didn’t know you two were getting serious.” Tatum smirks. I think she’s decided to forgive me. How generous.

“It’s high school. It’s never serious.”

Tatum’s eyebrow raises.

“No offense.”

Stu slips his arm around Tatum and kisses her cheek. “None taken.” He smiles as Tatum laughs into him.

Bile rises in my throat. But I smile as I take a sip from my beer.

In the living room, Randy starts the vote for what scary movie will be on while we all drink through this murder spree. I don’t listen. My eyes are fixed on Stu and Tatum on the couch. With their tongues, they’re passing back and forth a tooth pick, giggling. They look like they’re in their own little world. My stomach turns.

“How many Hellraiser?” Randy holds up a box from the video store.

“Hellraiser right here.” Stu points at Tatum and tickles her. She smiles and leans further into him, her back on his chest. Stu’s arms close in around her. I think we make eye contact, but if we did, it was only for a fraction of a second.

“The Fog, Terror Train, Prom Night. How come Jamie Lee Curtis is in all of these movies?” Sidney turns her question to Randy.

Randy gets on his knees to be closer to her. “She’s the…” His hands come together in prayer. “Scream Queen.”

He smiles at her. Sidney laughs. He’s so close to her. Tatum turns her head and shoots me a look. A shit-eating smirk, trying to rub in my face that I’m the one standing by myself. She so fucking happy with herself. She's so fucking happy I'm alone. I take another drink from my beer.

“With a set of lungs like that. She should be.” Stu leers at Randy. Stu knows how to put everyone on their worst behavior.

“Tits. See.” Tatum rolls her eyes. I look down at my own. Then I look at Tatum. Is there something wrong with mine?

The doorbell rings. Stu flips off the couch, narrowly hitting me.

“Hey, Tate, grab me another beer, would ya?” He whispers in Tatum’s ear before turning to get the door.

As he passes me, he gives me a quick up-and-down look. His hand doing the “okay” symbol. Okay? Just okay? I’m going to cry.

I push myself into the bathroom and take some deep breaths, splashing some cold water on my cheeks. The tears are rolling down, but they’re lazy-not as frantic as what I’m used to when I feel I’ve disappointed Stu. I don’t feel cute; I feel monstrous. I dab the tears off with some toilet paper, my hands running through my hair a couple times before I feel myself start to regulate again. With a deep breath, I go back.

Everyone is excited. I’m a little confused, because I see a cop, but on a second look, it’s Dewey. Dewey quietly talks to Sidney, and past them, I see that reporter-this time with a bruise on her cheek. She smiles awkwardly at everyone who says they love her show, which I, with a gun to my head, could not tell you the name of. I see her awkwardly crouch by the TV stand. Is that? Did she just put a camera in the living room?

Dewey holds up a hand to wave and acknowledge me. I step towards him, as friendly as I can muster. Sidney turns from him, crestfallen.

“You’re underage, girl.” Dewey points to the beer in my hand.

“That I am, officer.” I hand him the beer.

“Well, I can’t arrest you for holding an empty beer bottle.” He shakes the bottle.

“I gotta fix that.”

“Maybe go easy. Your mom’s been calling me at the station.”

“I told her I was fine.”

“I told her you’re tough. Burke even said so after your…” Dewey looks away to find the right word.

“Outburst?”

“That. Yeah.” Dewey nods. “I’m gonna…” He looks towards Gale.

I nod. Men are so predictable. It would be funny if it weren’t so monotonous.

I pat his arm and disentangle myself from yet another basic interaction with Dewey.

I head towards the garage, hoping to have just missed Tatum. I need another beer. I’m not fully comfortable enough to not fidget if I don’t have anything in my hands.

I’m certainly not expecting what’s on the other side of the door. Ghostface is stalking toward Tatum, who is stuck in the cat door on the garage door. I close the door behind me quickly. The sound causes the Ghostface to turn. Tatum, who was frantically trying to crawl away, stops when she hears the slam.

“Who’s there?! Help!” I hear her yell, but it’s not my priority.

Ghostface raises his bowie knife, about to charge me, when I hit the garage door opener with my elbow. Tatum screams, calling to a savior who isn’t coming. I stare at Tatum struggling as the garage door raises. Everything else fades to black. It’s like a play. I swear to God it’s in slow motion. A spotlight illuminating her body as she moves-flailing like a fish. I see the only real social obstacle between me and Stu get her head crushed like a watermelon. I smile.

“Oh, come on!”

My eyes snap to Billy, who has flung off the mask. His eyes are sparkling, and he is smiling at me-a real smile. A Christmas morning smile. 

He drops the knife and excitedly grabs my upper arms. He searches my eyes. I wish he would let go of me.

“You’re wasting…” He looks me up and down, “This! On him?”

His gloved hand cups my cheek. He places a kiss on my unresponsive lips, and I can feel the idealism in this one. He stays there an extra moment, his lips lingering, like he feels something real. My eyes are open, I see how soft his face is, how desperately he wants this to mean something. It doesn’t have to mean something to me. It just has to mean something. 

“We could be so good together. We…” He continues, “You have so much potential.”

Potential? I don’t want potential. He doesn’t understand me. How could he? His greatest offense is thinking he can.

“You need to get out of here.” I slip past him to the fridge, my eyes fixed on Tatum’s body. I grab a beer. My advice is a small move for kindness. A little pity.

I walk past Billy, whose feet are firmly panted where our, hopefully, last kiss was shared.

I take my eyes off of Tatum to look at Billy. He looks so angry-or embarrassed. He doesn’t know what true love is. I run my thumb across his cheek. He pulls away from me, looking down. He grabs his mask and knife.

“It means nothing to you. All of this.” He gestures to the costume.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Then I don’t need your fucking help.”

“I know you don’t.”

He looks into my eyes.

“I’ll be the one to kill you.” He voice is small. He means it, but disappointed by having to say it.

“I’d expect nothing else.”

Billy puts on the mask and walks past Tatum’s body, turning to look up at her face. His gloved hand grabs her ankle. He turns back to me, his shoulders slumped, even under the robes. He walks away slower than you would think.

I open the door, taking one last look at Tatum’s corpse. I wait for regret or sadness. But right now, all I can think about is that smile. The one that laughed at me for being alone. The one that mocked me for not even being able to keep Randy under my control. Now she’s dead, and I’m going to fuck her boyfriend. Stupid bitch.

I smile as I join the party, leaving my unopened beer on the kitchen island. I don’t feel nervous anymore.

Chapter Text

A group of more responsible partygoers are leaving for curfew. I sit on a bench by the entrance with more irresponsible guests. I roll a joint for the guy who funneled a beer earlier. Stu stands by the door, waving lazily at the departing guests. Sidney calls for Tatum upstairs, her voice loud and unnecessary. Tatum’s dead. I roll my eyes.

Billy appears in the doorway-looking disheveled. He probably had to run to hide his costume after our run-in. He looks at Sidney through his lashes. His eyes searing into her-possessive.

Stu smiles and watches them make up. I don’t know where Sidney and Billy getting back together fits into the plan, but by Stu’s expression, it’s clearly important. Maybe he just wants Billy to get laid and live vicariously through him.

Sidney is so fucking dumb. She’s falling right into it. She takes Billy’s hand, and the two walk toward the stairs. I can tell Billy sees me by the way his jaw clenches. I turn my head up to watch. Sidney is going to get deflowered by the man who murdered her mother. I shake my head, laughing to myself.

Randy walks into the entrance, right past me. I’m invisible again.

“There goes my chance with Sid. Damn it!” Randy mutters, looking past me at Sidney and Billy heading up the stairs.

“As if. That’s all I’m saying. As if.” Stu holds up a peace sign in Randy’s face as he walks away.

Stu stops in front of me and snatches the rolled joint from my fingers.

“Hey!” The guy protests.

“Leave him alone. Stu doesn’t know how to roll a joint.”

Stu places the joint between his lips and grabs a lighter from his robe, smiling down at me.

“I’m a bong guy.” He lights the joint, takes a drag, and then hands it to me, “Instant gratification, you know?”

“A true hedonist.” I take a drag and smile back.

“Alright, Halloween is on, everyone!” Randy yells from the living room, addressing the remaining partygoers.

Stu extends his hand to me. What a gentleman.

I take his hand, and Stu pulls me up quickly. I almost trip, but his other hand catches my waist. His hand that pulled me up slips around my shoulders, and I can smell him. The scent lifts me higher.

“Jesus, man handling me.” I laugh, content with the way my body presses against his.

Stu starts towards the living room, his arm wrapped around me, guiding me forward. He leans into my ear.

“I can be gentle when I want to be.”

I look at him, his eyes twinkling with playfulness. God, I love him.

In the living room, I sit on the floor by his feet. Stu lounges in a red loveseat behind me, relaxed, his arm stretching past my face as he watches. I study his hand, calloused and large, imaging how they felt on my body-greedy, sure. I wish I could kiss his hand, as a thank you. His hand withdraws, and he leans forward, chin lifted.

“I wanna see breasts.” Stu says.

I look up at him, watching him talk to Randy, “I wanna see Jamie Lee’s breasts. When do we see Jamie Lee’s breasts?”

Randy starts a tangent about Jamie Lee’s virgin status in horror movies. My eyes stay locked on Stu. He looks down at me-not in my eyes, but down my dress, my cleavage. I glance down at myself and laugh softly. Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I straighten my back, giving him a better look. I hear him hum in approval. 

“Don’t you know the rules?” Randy says, forcing Stu to pay attention.

“What rules?” Stu replies, eyes peeling away from me.

I could throw a bottle at Randy.

“You don’t-“ Randy pauses the movie. “Jesus Christ. You don’t know the rules?”

“Have an aneurysm, why don’t ya?”

Randy gets on his soap box in front of the TV.

“There are certain rules one must abide by in order to successfully survive a horror movie. For instance,” He raises a finger. “Number one, You can never have sex.”

The crowd boos, some even throw popcorn.

“Big no-no! Big no-no!”

“I’m a dead man.” Stu leans closer to my ear.

“Randy’s not.” I laugh, grabbing Stu beer. He chuckles at my joke.

“Number two, you can never drink or do drugs. The sin factor. Its an extension of number one.”

Everyone cheers.

“And number three, never, ever, ever, under any circumstance, say ‘I’ll be right back’ ‘cause you won’t be back.”

Stu pushes himself off the love seat and walks toward the kitchen.

“I’m gettin’ another beer. You want one?” 

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll be right back.” Everyone cheers at Stu’s joke. He takes in the applause before disappearing.

“See. You push the laws and you end up dead. Okay?”

“What about the killers?” I ask, sinking myself into the love seat, curling into Stu’s lingering warmth. “Do they have rules?”

Randy shrugs. “Mommy issues mainly.” He hits play and sits back down.

The movie continues, and I find myself watching the clock. I wait for Stu to come back, but he doesn’t. Then phone rings, right after that girl accidentally shows her tits to Michael Myers.

“I’ll get it.” I stand, but the boys don’t even made an effort to move.

As I bend down to pick up the receiver, my other hand “drunkenly” swats the camera out of it’s spot, sending it to the floor.

“Hello?”

“Hey…Is this Stu’s house?” I don’t recognize the voice, but it sounds familiar-probably someone from school.

“Yeah?”

“Well, tell him Principal Himbry’s fucking dead! They found him hung from the goalpost. His intestines pulled all the way out to the 20 yard line!”

“Holy shit,” I whisper, only surprised that his guts made it that far.

“Yeah! Get down here!”

“I’ll tell him.” I hang up.

I turn to the boys, stepping on the camera. Before they can question the crunch, I cut them off.

“They found Principal Himbry gutted and hanging from the goalpost.”

“What?” Randy whispers.

The others react a little more excited, jumping up to see the corpse of their principal before the police take him down. Billy’s handiwork.

I sit next to Randy. I can smell how drunk he is. I glance down at the broken camera, its lens completely shattered-separated from it’s broken body.

Randy rolls his head toward me.

“So, its just us.” His breath smells sour.

“I guess.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Randy slides his hand up and down my thigh, a little hesitant to fully put his hands on me, even drunk. I hear footsteps and doors slamming upstairs, but apparently, Randy doesn’t.

“I don’t know. Maybe you should ask Sidney?”

“Why you gotta be like that, huh?” Randy pulls his hand off my thigh.

“Be like what?”

“A fucking tease.”

“Randy, you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, I’m drunk and a virgin. I saw you flirting with Stu.”

“It was a joke.”

“Tatum’s gonna kill you, you know?”

“I can handle myself.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this nicely, so I’m just gonna say it, okay? We…“ Randy points drunkenly between us. “We are our best options. You’re not gonna get him, I’m not gonna get her, so we might as well just settle, okay?”

Randy puts his arm around me and leans in closer. If I hadn’t killed Tatum earlier, I probably would’ve stabbed Randy in the neck with a broken beer bottle. I smile to myself, which Randy takes as an advance. Randy narrowly misses poking me in the eye as he brushes hair out of my face.

“So, now that we’ve got that out of the way, we’re all alone…” I roll my eyes. 

“Help me!” Sidney screams from somewhere. I push away from Randy.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna go look.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Yeah, follow me.” I walk toward the front door, and I hear Randy stumble behind me.

“Hey, wait.” He mumbles, but I don’t stop.

I walk out the opened front door to see a panicked cameraman climbing out of the news van. He’s about to shout something-probably to warn me to run-but Ghostface slits his throat. Blood pours out of his neck and the man chokes on his last words.

Sidney screams, slamming the van door. I run towards the van, a violent struggle ensues. Ghostface rips open the van’s door, and Sidney scrambles out the back. He’s going to follow her. I can tell it’s Stu. He’s not thinking ahead. This is sloppy and rushed. He’s too excited.

Sidney runs down the dirt road, she doesn’t see me, her focus entirely on putting one step in front of the other. I watch her go for an abandoned barn down the road. I don’t know why she wouldn’t just keep running.

Stu follows, almost tripping over himself to get her. I grab his arm, pulling him close to me.

“Randy’s coming.” I tell him, voice low, urgent.

I take a moment in the embrace to smell him-still sporty, but with a mix of iron and salt. I pretend to struggle out of Stu’s arms and sprint for the tree line. As I glance back, I see him lifting the 250-pound cameraman onto the roof of the news van. God, he’s strong.

I stop at the edge of the tree line, making sure Stu sees me. I watch Stu step to the side of the van and look directly at me. He tilts his head, and with the mask, it looks unnatural. Scary, even. Then he runs at me.

My heart skips a beat, then I take off. There is a primal fear pumping in my blood but it is accompanied by a giddiness. I smile, laughing as I leap over fallen branches and rocks. It’s a thrill, being prey. I try to keep my eyes forward so I give him the chase I know he wants. But I’m greedy. It only takes one glance, and I misjudge a branch, stumble and tumble down a hill.

My ankle aches, and there’s a sharp pain coming from the side of my head. I must have hit a rock. I blink, trying to focus. The sky above me is dark, dotted with stars. The trees are starting their winter shed-allowing more light onto the forest floor.

I hear a twig snap, and I know he’s still coming. I scramble to crawl, but before I can get far, he’s on top of me-flipping me over with his hands on my hips. I struggle under him. I want to give him a good show. My fists push at his chest, but he stabs his knife into the ground just above my shoulder, to the right of my cheek. I freeze.

In an instant, he grabs my wrists and slams them above my head. With my arms pinned, the cold blade of the knife caressing my shoulder. I feel his breath through the mask, hot and uneven. His weigh pushing me down into the dirt and small rocks. His chest so broad compared to my own. I’m at his mercy, and everything inside me vibrates with excitement.

“Don’t fucking move.” Stu’s voice is muffled by the mask.

The black eyes look down at me as he boxes me into the ground. I realize that he has taken off a glove as he slips his hand between my thighs. He uses his knee to spread my legs, and I do so compliantly. His hand snakes up my thighs, fingertips leaving ghosty trails on my skin. My legs prickle and I roll my hips to meet him. He stops.

The hand that was deliciously teasing me, reaches up and pulls his mask off.

“I said, don’t fucking move.”

“I’m sorry,” I trail off.

He’s looking down at me, and in the moonlight, I’m reminded of the moment I fell in love with him. The way the light catches his face, casting shadows and highlighting the sharpness of his features. Illuminating him, so cool, so expansive. Everything arounds us quiets and stills, I wish so badly to I could stay in this moment forever. He looks otherworldly-an angel.

“You look like an angel,” Stu says, his voice low, like a prayer.

I blink, startled, as if he read my mind. Our eyes meet, and I see that same sparkle I couldn’t name years ago. A glimmer in his eyes that was unfamiliar and elusive. It’s a look I’ve caught myself giving him, in the still water at the fountain at lunch or in the reflection in a window.

He leans closer, his breath tickling my cheeks, and  he kisses me. It’s so real. It’s just us, and he is so gentle. I smile, amazed I get to be this lucky in this life. I have butterflies stuck in my throat, making it difficult to breath. His kisses deepen, getting hungrier. His hands pushing up the hem of my dress. He lips regretfully leave mine, trailing down my neck, and then down my clothed chest and stomach.

He stops, his lips hovering just above me, his breath labored. Containing himself.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and stay still?”

“Yes.”

“That will make sure you are.” He kisses my thighs as his head nods to the knife stuck in the dirt.

He nips at my thighs, playfully. I smile. His tongue and lips moving closer to my core. In the valley between my thigh and cunt, he take a long lick. I gasp. My clit jealous of the attention.

He bites down on the flesh, and a low laugh vibrates me. He growls into me, making everything accelerate. I could come just from this, but Stu has a more direct plan in mind.

He moves to my pussy, tracing paths with his tongue. His lips sucking on my clit, and his fingers curl inside me and fuck me. My chest heaves, and I feel a small cut forming on my shoulder. Nothing serious and completely worth it.

I look down at him nestled between my thighs. Making eye contact, I think about how pretty he looks. His eyes search for my responsiveness. He’s eager to please me. I could drunk from this power. He adds a second finger, and his mouth and hands move in tandem.

“Stu, God!”

He pulls his mouth off of me, his hand still moving, fucking me. His lips find mine, and I taste myself on him as our tongues twist and wrestle together. I cum, moaning into his mouth.

I’m unable to take the torment anymore; defiantly, my hands go to Stu’s shoulders and hair. Grasping for any piece of real estate he will afford me. My hands demand satisfaction.

His fingers inside me curl, before he can start again, my own hands search for an opening to his robe. My fingers feel the metal of his belt buckle, and I’m undoing the leather as he pulls off of me.

“Are you sure?”

I nod eagerly. Of course, I’m sure. It breaks my heart he has to ask.

His gaze softens, and in the quiet of the woods, I hear my hands rustle in the excessive fabric. The sounds of metal as I unzip his pants.

Stu pulls back to remove the robe, folding it into a mass of fabric. He leans forward, and I hear the knife pulled out of the dirt and tossed aside. His hand runs along my cheek, then to the back of my neck, cradling me as he lifts my head off the ground. He’s replaced the dirt and small rocks with the soft fabric of his robe. My head swims in the concentration of his scent.

He leans back on his knees, and his thumbs hook underneath his jeans. Finally, I see his cock as he frees himself, pulling the fabric to his upper thighs. Yes!

I don’t have much experience with dicks; frankly, I’ve always thought they’re a bit anti-climactic-a means to an end for baby making. This one, aside from being attached to Stu, is magnificent. Thick, long, and absolutely perfect. My mouth waters. My thighs, messy and wet, rub together.

He leans forward, but I meet him. My hand presses against the texture of his sweater. I look up at him, my eyes wide and teary.

“You are so beautiful,” I say.

His hand settles on my chin as he pulls my mouth up to meet his. We lay back on the forest floor, kissing. Eyes closed, I’m swept in the romanticism of it all. My legs spread, rubbing against his body, my thighs pressing against his waist. His hand dips between our bodies, rubbing me lazily, eliciting moans against his cheeks as he kisses my ear. I feel how wet I am, but I know this will sting.

His hand and face leave me at the same time. My hands wrap around his shoulders, needing to control how close to me he is. His hand guides his cock against me, and his eyes watch me. His face is soft. His mouth barely open-until…

My mouth drops as he fills my cunt. My brows furrow, and my grip on his shoulders grows tighter. It’s like a pinch and a stretch-it hurts, but a different kind of hurt. Not a pressure I want relieved, and I definitely don’t want him to stop.

He’s also mouth open, brows furrowed. His face is pained, but not in the same way mine is. He looks like the wind’s been knocked out of him. 

“You feel…amazing,” Stu struggles to say.

His hips pushes him further inside me, and a cry, a moan, a sob escapes my throat. I didn’t know I could make that sound. One hand migrates from his shoulder to his bicep. I breathlessly curse as I grab him. I can feel his bicep flexing. He’s so muscular.

“You’re so good.” He kisses into my ear.

His hips move while his thumb circles my clit. He circles the most sensitive parts of me so excellently. Accompanied by his hips, that are going deliciously slow-I assume for my comfort. The moans and obscenities just fall out of my mouth.

Stu kisses my neck and coaches me.

“Fuck, you were made for me.”

I gasp at his praise, my legs wrapping around him, letting him know it’s okay to fuck me harder.

His movements intensify, his hip quickening. His thumb moves faster. It doesn’t hurt anymore; it feels like every thrust is a punch against my core. The pain is more pressure, causing a familiar twist inside me. Tears spill down my cheeks, and Stu kisses the wet paths. His mouth moves to mine. Our tongues hungry for each other.

“God, I’m…”I say through a gasp.

“Me too.” Stu replies, breathlessly.

I look up at Stu and I cum for him; he follows me. Our eyes never leave each other. I see every twist in his face. The crease between his eyebrows deepens. His kiss bruised lips open, his bottom lip red for our intensity. I have to bite my cheek to stop myself from telling him I love him.

I love him so desperately. I want to give him everything, and for a teenage girl, I have. I’ve given him every part of me. It’s so beautiful that I cry without warning. He kisses me again.

He unable to understand why I’m crying, but he kisses me anyway. My hands cups his cheek, and I smile. Everything around us feels suspended.

“I-“ He starts, but is cut off by a scream. Fucking Sidney.

The news van barrels through the tree line, 50 feet away, and slams into a tree.

Chapter Text

No candles, no rose petals, no fancy lingerie. Just Stu, just perfect Stu. God has a sick sense of humor.

“God, fucking, damn it!” I yell.

Stu pushes off me and scrambles for his costume. My body aches with want from the separation. My lips are sick with need. My hips feel raw and sting as I sit up. I’m already sore. My body becoming greedy to the newfound ache. I miss the the heat from his skin on mine, the ghost of his warmth makes my skin sprinkle. Despite this, I take the knife before he can grab it. I push myself off the ground where I was just deflowered. Marching towards the crashed news van.

Of course, I don’t get a moment to bask in the wake of the loss of my virginity. I have to clean up this cluster fuck of a night. Thankfully, I can’t escape his sweet scent that is clinging to me-mixing with a sting of salt. Through the shattered windshield, like it’s own tv screen, I see the news lady. I always forget her name but that doesn’t matter now, does it?

I can hear him scrambling behind me, the rustle of the costume, the clink of his belt buckle as he tries to pull himself together.

“Wait, Doll, they’re probably dead.”

I open the passenger door, and sit down. The news reporter lady coughs up some blood. I turn to Stu, with a know-it-all smile.

“Help me.” She coughs out.

“Don’t worry someone’s coming,” I say, stabbing into her neck. Gale! That’s her name.

Pulling the knife out, blood squirts over the steering wheel. Gale reaches for her neck, but her struggle only lasts a few seconds before her head hits the wheel and she’s gone. My hand is wet-covered what used to be a successful mid-level investigative reporter.

I hand Stu the knife and climb out.

“Do you have a lighter?”

Stu fishes a lighter out from under his robe and hands it to me with a resigned conviction.

I walk to the back of the van and pull out as much of the video tape I can.-flammable. After I light an unspooled VHS, the fire spreads quickly. The van’s carpet catches first-faster than I expected. I grab Stu’s robe and pull him back.

“Jesus Christ, John McClane!”

“Will you not freak out?” I start walking back to the house. Stu hurries to follow me, nearly tripping.

“Are you kidding me?” His voice is breathless and strained. He stumbles over his robe, trying to catch up. I catch him. Again, I’m protecting him. Tonight is going to just be me playing catch-up. I feel like a step short, and I’m scared I’ll get tired.

“Please?” I plead. He steadies himself, standing up straight. His hand pressing into my arm for balance. I can feel the tension in his fingers-he hates not being in control. I think he’s annoyed about needing me, but I can’t see his face. We keep walking, our footsteps crunching the gravel, there’s a moment of silence. A comfortable one but tense, one that couples share on bad nights out.

“Yeah, but like…what the fuck?”

“I’m doing my best helping you and Billy. But-” I try to sound calm, like I have a plan, but I don’t.

“Billy?” Stu stops me, his hand gripping my shoulder. I freeze, feeling the electricity through the glove. The pressure from the grip sending a jolt of heat through me. I want his hands all over me. My breath hitches.

“Sidney?!” It’s Randy. His voice panicked and getting closer.

“Run,” I whisper the word, barley audible, but tight with urgency.   

I take off running to the back of the house. I turn, hoping to see Stu following me, but Sidney screams again. She’s such an attention-seeker. Stu-or the mask-looks back at me, but he turns towards Sidney’s scream. He takes off.

I don’t know where I’m running, but I appreciate being able to burn off some of this excess energy. Once I reach the back of the house, I try to take inventory of who’s alive-Randy, Stu, Billy, me, and maybe Sidney. God, that’s so many people.

I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. I continue to running to keep up the damsel-in-distress illusion. I turn a corner and almost slam full force into Stu’s dad’s boat.From this new angle, I see Tatum’s mangled head. I stare, her eyes bloated again her crushed skull. It’s almost cartoonish, this level of gore.

Randy comes running, stops, and promptly vomits.

“Randy!” I shout, running around the boat. “Randy, thank God!”

“Oh my God, Tatum…”

I grab Randy’s arm, pulling him back to focus.

“Randy, listen to me-we have to get help, now.”

Randy’s eyes meet mine, wide with terror, searching for something-anything. I don’t think he finds what he’s looking for. He tenses in my arms.

Suddenly, Stu appears, a mass of black robes in his arms. Stu short-stops, looking up at Tatum’s body. He looks at me, then at Randy. My mouth drops. Sensing the change, Randy turns.

Randy eyes lock in on the at the mass of black in Stu’s arms. The realization hits him like a punch to the gut.

“Oh my God!” Randy yells, his voice cracking. Ever the white knight, he runs, leaving me behind.

Stu throws the costume to the ground, fighting to catch Randy. He leaps towards him, and they crash onto the asphalt in a struggle. I watch Randy scramble, his legs flailing, his feet kicking at nothing. You would think this kind of chaos would sober someone up.

Stu grabs Randy’s foot, yanking it hard, I head a sickening snap-followed by Randy’s screams, he sounds desperate.  But then he twists, kicking Stu in the chest. Stu yells in pain. His collarbone. Despite the blood and gore tonight, that sound makes me sick.

The two of them sprint towards the front of the house, Randy limping with every step. I hear them both shout for Sidney. She has to be the center of attention.

I slip back into the house through the garage door. I try to ignore Tatum. I could turn around and morbidly gloat but I ignore the impulse. In the kitchen, I hear Billy stumble down the stairs into Sidney fucking dumb arms. I step into the living room and actually watch her hand him the fucking gun. How can she be this stupid? He’s soaked in a cartoonish red corn syrup. How can she not tell?

Billy opens the door to Randy, his eyes wide with fake concern.

“Stu’s flipped out! He’s gone mad!”

And in a moment so fucking ridiculous, ripping right out of a dumb ass hallmark movie, Billy raises the gun, “We all go a little mad sometimes.” Shooting Randy in the shoulder. He missed.

Sidney screams. I step forward, my heart pounding over her scream.

“Get his head, fuck!”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Billy snaps, still taking my advice.

Sidney stares at me, her eyes wide with shock, as Billy steps towards Randy’s head.

“Wait-“ Randy looks at me confused as Billy shoots him in the temple.

Sidney bolts, away from me and Billy, only to slam herself into Stu’s arms. He plays along, just long enough to let her think she’s safe, but it’s just for a second.

“Surprise Sidney.” He laughs into the voice changer-the same one that was telling me to touch myself earlier.

She tries to break free, but they cut her off, cornering her in the kitchen.

I look at Randy’s body while they psychologically torment her. I’ll let Stu play for a moment. My thighs still feel Randy’s drunk unwanted advances, “We might as well just settle”, rings in my ears. I feel pity. I feel a little guilt. I’m sorry he couldn’t tell where my allegiances were. I’m sorry he was confused, but I don’t think he should have been.

I look at him, dead, but still with the same confused expression. I say a small prayer he’ll find clarity in whatever waits for us in the after life, but I know more than likely, he’ll find nothing. In reality, he probably is gone, and that’s better. My fingers close his eyes before joining the fun in the kitchen.

I hang back, keeping to the edge. Out of sight, out of mind. Sidney’s crying at this point. Her sobs are uncontrollable. She’s literally back into a corner her with Billy holding a knife to her heaving chest. Stu looms just behind him, eyes dancing with a twisted excitement.

“WHY!” Billy screams at Sidney. She flinches.

“You hear that, Stu? I think she wants a motive. I don’t really believe in motives, Sid. Did Norman Bates have a motive?” Billy’s starting his monologue.

He did. His mom.

“No.” Stu laughs, moving to the counter. He winks at me, but I’m listening to Billy.

“Did they ever really decide why Hannibal Lecter like to eat people? Don’t think so!”

That’s up for interpretation. I argue cannibalism is the need to completely own another.

“See, it’s a lot scarier when there’s no motive, Sid. We did your mom a favor. That woman was a slut-bag whore who flashed he shit all over town like she was Sharon Stone or something.”

“Yeah, we put her out of her misery, ‘cause let’s face it, Sidney, your mother was no Sharon Stone, hmm?” Stu opens his hands to make a cruel gesture of a pussy, his eyebrow raised. I love how expressive his face is.

“Is that motive enough for you?” Billy bites at his knife, still needing to be the heart throb. “How about this? Your slut mother was fucking my father, and she’s the reason my mom moved out an abandoned me. How’s that for a motive?”

Judging by the look on Stu’s face, he didn’t know that part. So, he was just killing people to kill people. That’s the motive Billy craves, isn’t it? Pure unashamed sadism. That’s the kind of psychoanalysis that people beg for.

Like Charles Manson. How does a guy get a bunch of teens with education, social background, jobs, prospects-to drop everything and kill who you point at? Some think Charles is the master manipulator, but honestly it wasn’t’t Manson. It’s those kids. They wanted someone to give them a reason to be something. They wants someone to see that they were something. To show the world more than just high school bullshit.

Stu just like them. He wants to be more. He wants to be seen. I see him and I want him. He’s a cold blooded killer.

“An obvious one,” I mutter. 

It slips out before I can stop myself.

Billy turns, his eyes narrowing, full of that same predictable malice.

“What?” He spits at me.

“Just maternal abandonment-“

“Why don’t we show Sidney the best part?” Stu interjects.

Billy looks at Stu, and I can feel the exchange between them. It’s brief, but loaded with something charged. 

Stu apparently wins with Billy withdrawing first. Billy grudgingly pulls Sidney against his chest, with his knife trapping her.

“It’s all a scary movie, Sid. How do you think it’s gonna end?” Billy murmurs into Sidney’s ear. She looks like she could crawl out of her skin. Her body taut and unnaturally tense.

Stu slips against me, a step that’s too close. He runs the gun along my cheek, he touch light and tender. He smiles at me, and I do my best to bite down my own.

“This is the greatest part.” He radiates with excitement. He places the gun behind me on the counter.

“Yeah, you’re gonna love this one. It’s a scream, baby!” He walks towards the basement door. And with a joke that only makes sense to me, he says, “Hold on a sec. I’ll be right back.”

Now, alone with Billy and his actual victim, I watch him practically masturbate to the memory of killing Sidney’s mother.

“You know what time it is, Sid?” His voice drips with satisfaction. “After midnight. It’s your mom’s anniversary. Congratulations. We killed her exactly one year ago today.”

Sidney stares ahead at me, while Billy drools into her ear. She’s disgusted. Not by Billy, but me. Somehow I’ve been the one to truly betray her. Which is odd, because I’ve always been very clear with how much I don’t care about her.

“Why?” She mouths at me.

I open my mouth, but the answer comes back dragging her father.

“Attention!” Stu announces, “Oh, what do we have behind door number three, Sidney?” 

“Daddy!” She lunges for him, but Billy holds her firm.

Her father looks horrible, like a corpse, blood dried across his face, bruises mottling his skin. I am horrified at how stupid this plan is.

Stu roughly plants the cell phone and the voice changer into her father’s pockets. He makes crude jabs at Sidney, mocking her desperation. It’s theatrical cruelty at it’s finest.

“Got the ending figured out yet, Sid?” Billy taunts her.

“Come on, Sidney. You think about it now, huh? Your daddy’s the chief suspect. We cloned his cellular.The evidence is all right there, baby!” Stu pushes her father towards my feet. I have to step back quickly.

“What if your father snapped? Your mother’s anniversary set him off, and he went on a murder spree, killing everyone.”

“Except for a few survivors, left for dead.”

“Then he…kills you…and shoots himself in the head. Perfect ending.”

“I thought of that.” Stu laughs, proud of himself. I’m proud of him too.

“Watch this.” Billy pushes Sidney into the corner, she’s paralyzed, her body stiff with fear. She should run.

Billy moves slowly, stalking towards Stu. Billy glances at me, that fucking smile on his face, I can barely breathe. He holds the knife up, aligned with Stu’s torso. Billy looks up at Stu and nods, “Ready?”

He’s going to stab my Stu. Left for dead.

“Yeah.” Stu replies. Bracing himself, “Yeah! I’m ready baby!”

I can’t listen to Stu’s masculine posturing. The sound of his bravado makes my skin crawl. All I sees is the look in Billy’s eyes. He’s going to fucking kill him. And, I can’t do anything to stop him. After he kills Stu he’ll kill me and we’ll bleed out on his parent’s kitchen tile together. In a way, that’s romantic. I try to brace myself against the counter, when my hand accidentally lands on the gun.

I shoot before Billy stabs Stu, and Sidney falls to the ground. I hit her right in between her bangs.

Billy and Stu turn to me, while I hear Sidney’s father muffled cries. I put the gun back down. I don’t know what to do. I should run, but I don’t want to. My eyes are on Stu. He looks scared.

Billy pushes past him to me.

“What the fuck did you do!”

“She was gonna run!”

“This isn’t your movie, doll.” His voice filled drips with venom, the pet name a taunt, a mockery. He’s making fun of me-of us.

“This is my fucking movie!” He spits, wild with rage, “And you ruined it! You should love me, you should worship me! You should be for me!”

This is desperate-this is madness. This is something deeper, something that has been festering for too long. He steps towards me. His anger pulses, the world narrowing to his voice.

“You think you get to decide how this ends? I’m the fucking star.”

I hold my hands up, shaking, terrified trying to keep him away but it’s useless. Billy grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back and throwing me onto the floor. My head bounces and cracks against the tile. I’ve made a mistake.

“I told you.” Billy hold the knife above his head and drives it into my chest.

I cough from the force of it. That first call I can feel. A huge weigh. Then Billy pulls the knife out, and I feel it slice me as it glides free. A sharp, burning sensation that spreads like waves. He reaches up to do it again, but something pushes him off me. I can’t tell because my vision is already slipping, fading in and out.

Every sense in my body is focused on my chest. It’s like electric stinging, vibration through every part of me. Then it burns. It’s so fucking hot, I can’t breathe, the heat is consuming. I gasp for air, coughing. My mouth is wet and my ears are ringing. I feel something on my cheeks. The feeling of pressure returns, it’s consumed by the burn.

I’m dying. This is it.

My life doesn’t past before me. No flashbacks. No regrets. Instead, I am flooded with a feeling of love. It’s a feeling I’m familiar with. The feeling of the burn in my cheeks from smiling. Every moment I’m with Stu and I feel like my heart skips a beat. Then my heart does skip a beat.

A life spent loving Stu Macher is a life well lived.

Chapter Text

Fuck Billy Loomis.

It’s black. It’s maddening. It’s lonely. This is hell. I’m trapped inside my own psyche, suspended in a limbo my own time and space.

At first, there was nothing. Like what I imagine a dust particle must feel floating in a sunbeam-warm, weightless, unseen. There must have been some time that pasted after that beautiful flood of light and love, because suddenly it was gone. Then it was just…cold and lonely.

It felt like ice water was injected into my veins. Like I was ripped out of the joy into something hollow. Then it was the loneliness.

It felt like I was standing on air. Nothing real to hold onto to. Not even enough sensation for a shiver. I wandered into it, staring a the vast blackness that expanding into infinity in front of me. It was hopeless.

Eventually, I laid down, trying to will myself to let go. Trying to dissolve back into the nothing. But my consciousness refused to relent. If anything it was growing stronger, the fear was becoming too great. I was forced to lay in the bed I made… and die in it.

I’m tired. And I miss everything.

“My baby.”

I hear her, but I can’t see her. Her voice trembles-shaky, but deeply familiar with love. I want to cry, to hold onto her, but I can’t. My body is cold, unresponsive in the void. I am consumed with bubbled emotions under a glass hard surface. I’m lost in space.

Back when I was small and sick, she’d pet my back. Kiss my sweating forehead, and sing softly till I fell back asleep. She’d hum lullabies, soft and slow, never leaving my side.

I remember that.

I remember feeling loved.

I remember loving.

It would be easier if it was nothing again.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here when I hear the beeping. Steady. Rhythmic. Like when E.R. is on in the background. If this is forever, I’m going to go crazy. I get up and start walking again. I have to get away from the constant noise.

My face feels wet. Is it raining? Every drop of rain hits me hard, making my skin raw.

I haven’t felt any sensation in so long.

“You gotta come back, Doll. Okay?”

Stu.

My heart skips a beat. My mouth moves as I say his name, but I can’t hear myself-a silent prayer into the void. An offering of love to make me whole again.

Don’t I deserve to come back? A love like mine can’t just die. It’s too consuming, even in death.

My lips feel my breath. My arms vibrate. I’m starting to feel again. My skin is full of life. I feel a rush.

I run, tripping-falling back into the nothingness.

I gasp-violently pushed back into reality. I scream, pulling at the cords attached to me. One is down my throat- making me gag. A nurse grabs my arm, trying to stop me. My dad drops a coffee, running into the room, and my mom gets up from my bedside, grabbing my shoulder.

“Oh my god, honey!”

I go still. She brushes the sweaty hair out of my face. The nurse quickly readjusts the necessary medical attachments, slowly pulling the tube out of my throat. I retch.

“How…long?” My voice is hoarse-stale from the lack of use.

My parents exchange a look.

“Five days.” My dad says.

“It felt longer,” I whisper. My mom cradles my head in her arms, pressing a concerned kiss on the top of my head.

“I’m sorry, kiddo.” My dad places his hand on my calf, reassuringly. The quilt from my room covers me. My parents have made a home in this cold fluorescent room.

“What happened?”

“We…It was a lot. They don’t know.” My dad can barely look me in the eyes.

Tears prickle, am I? Is this it?

“Who else?”

“Not now,” My mom interrupts, “Just wait. Wait untill the doctor sees you, okay, honey?

I nod, wiping the tears away with the back of my hand. My arms feel so heavy. There is a pain in my chest. I look down-there’s gauze and some kind type of saran wrap under my hospital gown.

My room is covered in flowers and balloons. So, I’m not a suspect. That’s good.

The next few hours are exhausting. Doctors and nurses come in and out, running extensive tests on me. I take inventory of all my injuries. A sprained ankle, bruising on my temple and cheeks, stitches on a cut on my collarbone, and the grand finale-a stab wound to the chest that narrowly missed my heart.

No one will tell me anything I want to know.

For all I know, I’m the only survivor. Maybe, Stu’s voice was just a figment of my imagination. It probably all was. Maybe I’ve been falling into a well of psychosis for years.

After rounds of tests, I’m back in bed when Burke knocks on the door. My parent both stand, immediately on the defense. I’m shocked.

“How you feeling, kid?” Burke is sheepish.

“Fuck you.” My dad answers.

I expect my mom to reel him in, but instead, she scowls at Burke.

“I want to ask a few questions.”

“You let the kids throw a keg party.” My mom bites now. They’re really taking a united front with Burke.

“At the time-“

“It was a massacre, Burke.” My mom cuts him off.

“I know. I apologize.”

“Fuck you.” My dad repeats.

“I can only imagine-“

“No, you can’t.” My mom counters.

“I’m sorry.”

“Who else?” I interject. I know I should let Burke speak, and I am enjoying my parents tear into him, but I need to know.

“There were a number of fatalities.” Burke say carefully, “Do you remember anything?”

“No.” I’m lying. I remember everything. My chest twitches, the bandages make me itch.

“She’s not talking without a lawyer.” My dad steps closer to Burke.

“Of course.” Burke replies almost instantly.

“Wait, who’s else?” I’m desperate.

“I’m sorry to inform you…” He looks at my mother, sheepish. “But, it was a massacre. I’m sorry, but most of your friends are gone. Randy Meeks, Tatum Riley, Sidney Prescott, and um-“ He clears his throat. “Billy Loomis are.. all dead.”

Billy?

“Stu?”
“Stuart Macher is recovering. He’s…home.”

“What?” I sound like a different person in my own ears.

“You can’t be serious?” My mother sounds equally horrified. “He’s at that house?”

“Jesus fuck, Burke.” My dad mutters, rubbing his brow.

“His parents are taking care of him.” Burke tries to reason to my parents.

I nod, trying to stay focused. I can’t, but I need too. A girl who doesn’t remember the blood bath wouldn’t  react like this. She wouldn’t be horrified by Stu being in that house.

“Thank you, Sheriff.” My ears are ringing, tears about to burst.

Burke nods, quietly leaving the room.

I look at both my parents. A sob escapes me, before I can control myself. I curl up, crying into my knees, my body shaking. My parents on either side, rubbing my back.

They think I’m horrified, sinking into an all consuming grief. But actually-I am so fucking relieved.

I can’t stop. If they could see my face, they would think I’d officially lost it. Completely succumbed to the unimaginable grief of losing all my friends. I can’t stop smiling; tears streaming down my face, choking back sobs, and I’m smiling.

After my emotional outburst, my parents encouraged me to get rest. My father went back to the house to fix up the mess from the home invasion that happened barley a week ago. My mother stayed by my side, but she must have been exhausted from waiting. She fell asleep next to me in the twin-sized hospital bed.

I lay awake next to her. The doctors gave me permission to go home tomorrow. I spent every moment fantasizing about escaping this fluorescent hell hole. I don’t know what’s worse, the buzz of the lights or the coma. Every minute that ticks is another closer to slipping out of my parent’s over protective grasp and back into Stu’s arms. I miss him, and now there were no more obstacles. Though, he might be mad I ruined Billy’s plans. I don’t think the fallout would be too harsh.

The next few days were TORTURE. My parents circled me like sharks. I couldn’t go to the bathroom without one of them knocking to check on me. On the other side of our street, news vans waited to catch a glimpse of me through my window. Harassing my mother on her grocery runs. Which maybe they’d back off if they knew I killed one of their peers.

I did so much for Stu, effectively damning myself for him, and the phone was silent.

He had know I was alive and awake. Burke had knocked on the door more than once. He was oblivious and not good at his job. He must have told Stu.

It was killing me the silence. Maybe he didn’t know, maybe, and more devastatingly, he didn’t even bother to ask.

It was day four at home, when the news vans, left one by one. Moving on to the next big thing.The news had grown stale. A massacre, and no one was talking. They could only play the same grainy segment so many times. The only reporter that would have found the conspiracy was dead.

I watched them go. One reporter paused long enough to capture a quick photo of me in the window before he drove off. I was in a white tank top, with a gauze square taped to the center of my chest. That would probably be a morose cinematic photo for the headline, “No Leads-Interest Dies With Teens”. 

In the middle of the night, I slipped out of my room.

My parents decided to finally sleep in their own bed, instead of sleeping in the living room with their new shotgun. The news vans leaving must be giving them a sense of comfort. That I will happily take advantage of.

I am two awkward steps from the front door, when I hear my mom clear her throat.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

I turn, trying to be sheepish instead of pissed.
“I was just going for a drive.”

“Honey.” She knows.

“What?” My voice flat, not giving her anything.
“You were saying his name during the…” She stops herself from saying it.

“Oh my god, Mom!” I groan. This is so embarrassing.

“I mean, I knew you had a crush, but-”

“Mom, stop!” I’m mortified.

“He hasn’t even been cleared as a suspect!”

“You can’t seriously believe he would do that.”

“I don’t know…” She says softer now. “I just want to keep you safe. Here.”

“Stu wouldn’t hurt me.”

She looks at me-uncertain. Her arms cross tightly, her lips purse. I know I should be unsure, but I’m ignorant in my beliefs. Happily so.

“Please, Mom.” I press, “I need to make sure he’s okay.”

She signs. “You have an hour. If you’re not back before then, I’m coming over.”

I back out of the driveway and wait a moment, watching the house. For my parents bedroom light to turn on, but thank god, their room stayed dark.

Stu’s home is dark, too. I kill my headlights before pulling in, not wanting to wake anyone. But his parents’ cars are missing from the driveway. The garage door had been replaced-this one doesn’t have a cat door.

The front porch is spotless. I had figured his house would be in more disarray. It’s only been a week, but his home is quickly coming back together. Like nothing had ever happened.

I turn the handle, and it opens. Unlocked. How tragic. There had been a murder on the loose, and no one considered they should keep their doors locked?

Stu’s home is approaching bare, the insides gutted and spotless. All the broken furniture is gone. I couldn’t help myself. I took silent steps towards the kitchen, the brightness of the white tile was insulting. I had bled out on this floor and the only trace of it is the accosting smell of bleach. I feel sick.

With every step up the stairs, dread builds in me. Had they left? Did he leave me here? To get swept in the waves of teenage tragedy?

I open Stu’s bedroom door. Unlike the rest of the house, his bedroom is exactly the same. He is asleep in an unmade bed. The sight of him has a gasp choke and die in my throat. My beautiful boy, broken in bed, alone in a murder house. My hand grips the door frame. The cold unfeeling mahogany is the only sensation grounding me to this reality.

I knew it would be bad. But I didn’t realize how visceral my reaction would be. His arms are almost completely bandaged. His eyes are bruised-dark, fading into sick yellows and greens. There’s a small cut on the bridge of his nose. And still… Despite how battered he is, he looks peaceful. His large body taking up most of his bed, spread into a twist that looks somehow comfortable. His face is relaxed, mouth slightly open, soft breath against his pillow. His forehead damp with a sleeping sweat. His lips looked plush.

As much as I want to slip into his spread arms, I remember-I had been abandoned. By him.

I grab the blanket covering his torso and rip it off him. His body jolts awake. He scrambles upright, and for a moment, I see the murderer in his eyes. It softens as his eyes adjust and he recognizes me, he laughs. At me!

“Jesus, doll, you’re crazy.”

“I’m crazy?”

He smiles at me, and relaxes back into his bed.

“Well, you broke into my house.”

“It was unlocked.”

“Fuck. Of course, it was.” He laughs again, his bandaged hand rubs his face.

“Where are your parents?”

“Picking my sister up from college.”

“Both of them?”

His playful smile falls slowly. It’s replaced with something real. Something also abandoned. Something cold and scared. But mostly…flat. Hard.

He clears his throat.

“Why are you here?”

This is it.
“You didn’t call. Or anything.”

“Why would I do that?”

I blink. “Are you serious?”
Stu just cocks his head at me. Bandaged and bruised, he still prioritizes fucking with me.

“Why are you acting like this?” I continue.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He holds up his hands, “A serial killer to ogle at?” His eyes narrow, “Like some worn out groupie.”

He called me a groupie, just like Billy.

“Don’t be a jerk…”

“Oh no,” He teases, “Did I hurt your feelings?”

My response dies in my throat. He’s just bullying me.

Stu’s brows form into a judgmental line as he takes in my silence.

“Look who’s fucking big and bad now.” He spits a me.

“I killed for you.” My voice, at first a whisper, growing louder in the confidence of my conviction, “I fucking saved your ass that night!”

Stu pushes himself off the bed, getting in my face. “You fucked up the plan!”

“Billy was going to kill you!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice hard, full of a unwanted truth, “I can handle myself. You made me kill Billy!”

“Then why didn’t you just let him kill me? Huh?”

He stops, considering his next words. He’s making sure they hurt.

“You know, I feel sorry for you, Doll. I really do. I have never met anyone so desperate for attention.”

“Oh really? What about Billy? Or you, for that matter? Both your parents had to pick up your sister?” I fire back.
“Shut the fuck up.” His voice icey.

“I am always here for you, Stu. Always. It’s always me.”

“I don’t want you.” I watch him say it, but I can tell it’s not the truth. He’s trying to convince us both. “I’m over you. Psycho.”

I push him.

“Liar! You love me, Stu Macher!”

He pushes me back.

“Shut up!”

I push him again. This time he catches my hands. I kick against him, he throws me onto his bed. I cling to his arms and he falls with me. I cry, my chest heaving trying to catch my breath. We struggle for a moment before he holds me down. Tears roll down my cheeks, into my ringing ears.

“Why are you being so mean?” I cry.

Stu says nothing, his eyes dart away. He bites down his response, focused on keeping me still.

“Are you going to hurt me now?” I ask, small, convinced the answer is yes.

Stu focuses on me, really looking into me. His eyes lingering on my face. His gaze softens.

“You…” His voice tense, firm in it’s resolution, but he can’t say it. And I know.

“I know. I found my way back.” My hand slips out of his grip and finds his cheek, hoping to he can feel my commitment to him.

“I felt it.” His voice cracks, my heart mimics.

“I’m sorry.” My voice a breath.

“It doesn’t matter now.”

Stu pushes off of me, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. My senses panic. I don’t know what to do or say. My chest feels cold without him against me. I don’t know what I would do if this is the moment I get rejected.

“I’m sorry.” My voice repeat, still lying there, frozen still in the same position he left me. But, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t reach for me.

I slide off the bed, and my hands find his knees. I beg. It falls out of me.

“Please,Stu…please.”

My pleas catch in my throat, raw, desperate. My eyes silently burst with a new batch of tears.

Stu finally sits up, looking down at me on my knees in front of him. He eyes appraise me, they seems less cold. His mouth parts slightly, taking me in, like snakes that can see with their tongue.

My hands on his knees, I push myself up. Gently straddling his hips, sinking into his lap. His body weaker, but still broad and solid underneath me. My hand curve around the base of his neck, drawing his lips closer to mine.  Skin warming against skin, and that quiet spark flickers.

“I’m sorry,” It slips out light, like a prayer, before my lips dust over his. “I’ll be good.”

His bandaged hand catches my chin, before I can fully meet his lips.

“Stop.” He looks in my eyes, there is something in them I can’t place, “Stop apologizing.”

I nod, lips parted, full of want. My pouting lips plush. My eyes search his for permission.

“Can we not fight anymore, please?” I murmur, as his other hand slides on the curve of my back. He leans in, his nose brushing against my neck as he nods.

He pulls me in and we kiss. Kissing feels so natural. His lips are so sweet and cool from the night air. A fresh set a goosebumps prickles against my thighs. Our lips play for a moment, dancing against each other. Its hard to hold myself back, but this is too sweet to tear into vulgarity.

His hand drifts down my arms, holding my hips steady against him. I feel the bandages against my skin, I wish that he could feel how soft and lush I am for him. How warm my skin feels when it’s electrified with his touch. My hips roll into him, and I can feel him against me. His flannel pajama pants are a pathetic barrier.

He pulls my t-shirt over my head, and I’m bare-chested against him. My bandage next to my heart the only part of me covered. He kisses the gauze. The stitches on my shoulder are next. It stings, that kiss, but my back arches naturally for his touch. Making myself more available for his exploration. I feel his breath on my chest making the hair on my back stand.

“You’re beautiful,” He whispers. My fingertips trace the outlines of his chest, falling naturally into the valleys his muscles create. Avoiding his bandages. My fingers find the Saint Rita medallion. I smile as I kiss his neck. He had a small piece of me this whole time.

His hands trail down my back, settling on my hips as he flips me onto my back. My bare back spreads against the soft thread count of his sheets. My hips roll as Stu takes my shorts off, kneeling between my bare thighs. His lips kiss my thights and his bandaged hands pull me fast towards his mouth by my hips. A firm and swift motion that makes me gasp.

He bites and licks at the valley of my thighs, making my breath hitch, before his tongue explores my cunt. Long lazy zig zags before his tongue circles my clit. My hands reach for his hair instinctively. I feel his breath and a shiver runs through me. He’s overcompensating not being able to use his hands. This tongue doing all the work, making my back arch against the bed.

“Oh, God.” One hand twisting in his hair, the other twisting into his cotton sheets.

I feel him hum in approval against me, vibrating me in a mix of our satisfaction. The hum builds it in me. I come for him with breathless moans, my mouth open and wet. This is what makes life worth living.

I prop myself on my elbows, I watch as he stands, pushing down his flannel pajama pants. My eyes go to his hard cock. My chest aches at the stretch as he comes to me, kissing me. His lips are so sweet and taste of me. My devotion paid off, I get to spend the rest of my life with him. I’ll make sure of it.

My hands on his shoulder guide him onto his back, straddling his broad body. The ache in my hips returns but it’s not unwelcomed. If anything I’m begging for it-begging for him to show me the limits my body can take.

I feel his hardness against my wet core, my hips roll and we moan. The mirroring makes me swell with pride; I love seeing how I can make him moan. He’s so expressive and gorgeous, I would do anything to bring him pleasure. I smile down at him, and I see the devilish smile form. He pushes himself up so we’re bare chest to chest. His bandaged hands guide my hips up and down, sinking down onto him. Our mouths open and my hands pull him close to an open mouthed kiss, as my hips move up and down on him. Every kiss swallowing a moan, our hands pulling each other so close it’s almost painful. I wish we could break ourselves open and become one.

I feel the sweat beads forming between my shoulder blades. Stu’s hands go between us to my breast, our kiss breaks and his forehead rests against mine, our body heats mingling as we pant. My body moving slowly against him my hands on his shoulders, holding myself stable as I move for him. I watch him, trying to get him to moan louder and louder for me, wanting him to lose himself in me.

“I love you,” He whispers. 

I still, his hands move to my cheeks and he kisses me. It’s everything to me. His lips press against mine, like petals. I move slower my hands gripping him, pulling him so close. Tears prickle and slip out of my closed eyes. So lost in a moment of utter devotion.

I can’t stop myself, “I love you, I love you…” I whisper as I kiss every inch he’ll let me have. His hands grip my thighs as tightly as they can, as I start to move again with a new fire. His forehead drops to the crook of my neck and I can feel his pants hot against my neck. I look down at him and we catch each other’s lips.

I move with him as his kisses grow more desperate, his grip tightens, and he moans into our kiss. My back arches as I feel him come inside me. I smile against the kiss. I pull away to watch his face knowing I’m giving him such pleasure. Knowing that this is something only he can have, that I am all for him. Every part.

He falls back against his bed, and I slip off of him, lying next to him. My cheek finds his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His hand goes to my hair, petting it out of my face as best he can. I look up at him, wide-eyed with love, and I see that same look back with his smile. In that moment, I know. It was that look at the playground, the look that night in the forest, the look I’ve always missed somehow.

“I love you.” He says again. “Always have.”

“I love you.” I whisper reverently.

He smiles, because he’s mine and I’m his. I can hear the clock on his wall ticking aways the seconds.

“So,” He smiles, the same wolfish smile I cannot get enough of, “What’s next?”