FUL STOP

CHAPTER ONE - NO GREY.

if not for the attack on casey becker and (y/n) (l/n),  it would have been yet another day. raging water would not have encompassed the student's minds, apprehending their mind with foul images — though, luckily for most, many did not care.

news reporters scattered the school's premises, hoping that they could find answers to what had occurred — the dreadful mention of that torturous mask, the body that hung messily from the tree, and the scar on one's cheek was not taken as a threat, but an invitation to an unlocked door.

the door opened to a room filled with whispers, ones that ultimately grew louder as the victim's presence was shown — it was to ridicule them.

everywhere (y/n) went, the whispers followed, as well as that dutiful, yet dangerous voided mask.

the (hair colour)ed male had been called to the office, escorted by a worried teacher — she had walked down that hall one too many times that day, witnessing students being thrown into a room littered with police officials.

even the teachers had their own speculations at this point, not oblivious to the countless whispers they heard, nor the crazed amount of students entering that room alone.

"(y/n)?"

a hand reached to gently caress their friends back, quickly returning their hand to their side once they saw the male jump — it brought (y/n) back to the moment, startled out of their dissociation.

"uh, yeah... what's up?"

throughout the day, it had been a torturous cycle to pretend that things were simply how they used to be — good, delightful, and fun — when there was a constant reminder of the attack they faced. they had to remain strong, seemingly unaffected by those events, and if they couldn't?

they would be seen as weak. something they refused to show to anyone, even their dearest friends. something that they felt they were undeserving to feel, as they were the one to survive the attack — not their friend, whom they wished to protect but couldn't.

despite how bad the event was, how much they deserved and had every right to be upset, they couldn't face themselves to show its effect.

"are you okay?"

a shoulder bumped into their own, taking away any space between them — this caused eyes to linger on both of their forms, attempting to listen to the soft-spoken, whispered words sidney had to offer.

the girl — sidney prescott — had been affected by the event in her own, terrible way. not only had the death of someone been on her mind, casey becker's, but her mother's — if anyone could relate to how (y/n) felt, it was sidney.

the death of her mother, slaughtered by whom she convinced herself was cotton weary, was not far off from this accident. it scared her to know that maybe, just maybe, it truly was never cotton — yet, someone closer, breathing in the same carbon she breathed out.

"i'm all good, don't worry about it, sid," (y/n) reassured, picking at the food that sat in their lunchbox. they cleared their throat, before taking a bite of their meal in an orderly fashion to drop the subject — others didn't take the hint.

"hey, did they ask if you like to hunt?" stu chirped.

"yeah, they did." billy began to sit up as he spoke, looking at stu before asking the same, "did they ask you?"

stu only nodded his head, glancing at his 'beloved' as she pursued answers to that question.

"hunt? why would they ask if you like to hunt?" tatum questioned, a brow raising slightly as her hands empathized her inquiry.