Psycho Killer || France

Scream 2

On the 24th of October, saturday 10:27pm, the living room phone was going to ring and it was necessary that the person who answered it was Gwen, who was home alone with her older brother, Finney. She would need to answer it completely unaware that the call was not as it seemed—neither she or the stranger on the other end knew this but, that simple action would cost someone their life.

That call was the beginning of the end of this fucked up series of events, though this beginning wasn't the start, no, the start was in another room of the house—the kitchen. This story started with a knife to Finney's throat, blade digging deeper with each useless plea from Bruce as he tried saving someone he loved from someone else he loved just as dearly.

In alot of ways that night was also the end just as much as it was the beginning. Finney did not die that day but he did lose his life—or rather the chance to go back to the one he had before the murders, before Ghostface, before the call. From that day foward every step he took was for a reason.

Everything he did had meaning, every word he spoke, he spoke to end—or save—someones life.

Finney remembered that night with a vivid tint, the tiny cut on his neck that he had hid with a band-aid would always remind him of the slow and painful death he had successfully avoided. When he did avoid that death his head filled with more questions then he could even begin to ask, starting with motive, ending with what's next. Finney wanted answers right away but everything he had been searching for couldn't be fit into that one night.

Bruce told him the answers would be given at Vance's house, so when sunlight poured onto the blank canvas in the sky revealing the blue paint underneath, Finney headed over immediately. Skipping a day of school wouldn't do much for any of thier grades anyways—as if that mattered given the severity of the situation that literally dictated life or death.

At around 1pm Finney snuck into the house, finding his way up to Vance's room with a certain confidence in the way he held himself. His want for answers and need for confirmation that he was right—to some degree—about Ghostface masked the part of his brain that knew this would end badly. That mask Finney made for himself filled Vance with an anger of sorts—an anger that highlighted his features, not bothering to be hidden.

Finney could see it in the other boys eyes, the way they pictured Finney in a grave, but he could also see love—a love set aside just for Bruce—a love that, just like Finney's doubts, also hid behind a mask, this mask was the cold knife that dug into Amy Yamadas stomach.

"Why did you kill Amy?"

A simple question that Finney already knew the answer to but in his quest for nothing but the truth he needed it to come from Vance himself. The boy did not speak but his gaze softened as he glanced at Bruce—regret stained the blues of his eyes like glass—and that look was all that Finney needed. With a stare that regressed back to it's original cold and icy self as Vance thought about the truth, his mouth hung open, the words struggling to be spoken into existence.

"He thought it was what I wanted..."

Bruce stole the words that gripped onto the tip of Vance's tongue like how a lover might've stolen a kiss, but this kiss was anything but loving—not like Vance's stare—not like his motive. Bruce's eyebrows furrowed as he pushed himself to give more context.

Bruce had always been the golden boy, he could do nothing wrong because he was simply not allowed to. It wasn't until he turned 16 that things started changing; you think being allowed to make mistakes would do wonders for his mental health since it had been steadily declining since age 14, but when he made a mistake and no one noticed it was a clear sign that his parents gave up on him—just stopped caring.