Tatum, the only daughter of Gale Weathers and Dewey Riley, couldn't wait to leave the horrors of Woodsboro behind and set out for New York City with her surviving friends.
Despite her hopes of starting anew, Tate soon finds herself face to face wit...
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ETHAN CAN FEEL HIS HEART POUNDING IN HIS CHEST AS HE WALKS INTO HIS DAD'S APARTMENT, THE GHOSTFACE COSTUME INSIDE HIS BACKPACK. Quinn is there, muttering under her breath as she tries to scrub the fake blood from under her nails. Ethan has to try to act normal, happy even, but his mind is racing.
He knows that he accidentally pushed Tatum too hard when he was trying to get her off his back, and she took a nasty fall. He had wanted to make sure she was okay right then and there, but he couldn't let Quinn suspect it. If she knew, she would tell their father, Wayne, and he surely would put a stop to Ethan's interference.
Tatum would become their number one target.
Ethan takes the Ghostface costume out of his bag and sets it down on the counter. "So, what's the plan now?" he asks, trying to sound nonchalant.
Quinn looks up at him, her eyes narrow. "We wait," she says. "See who survived. Then, we take care of them."
Ethan's stomach clenches at the thought. He knows that they've already gone too far, that they've already hurt too many people. But he can't back out now. He's in too deep.
He watches as Quinn continues to scrub at her nails, and he wonders how much longer he can keep up this charade. He knows that he needs to talk to Tatum, to make sure she's okay. But, even if she is perfectly fine, this game is far from over.
They are barely in the second act.
"So, how did it feel like to pop your cherry?" she asks with a smirk.
Ethan's confusion shows on his face as he asks, "What?"
Quinn rolls her eyes, "Your ghostface cherry, dingus. It's a fucking rush, right?"
He couldn't even begin to describe how he felt about what had just happened. The sight of Tatum crying, bleeding and shaking in panic made him want to vomit. Every instinct in him screamed to protect her, to keep her safe. He didn't care about the others, but shit, he'd hurt Tatum, his Tatum.
It made him want to go down on his knees and beg for forgiveness.
Ethan tries to compose himself and nods, trying to play along with Quinn's game, forcing a smile. ''Yeah, it was intense. The rush was unbelievable,'' he says.
Quinn raises an eyebrow, ''You alright there, champ? You look like you've seen a ghost.'' She giggles. ''Ghost, get it?''
He chuckles. ''Yeah, yeah, um, tired as shit though and still gotta go over there and act like the concerned friend instead of taking a nap, so that fucking sucks.''
Quinn nods, seemingly satisfied with his answer. ''I know, I was needing to use all my energy being nice to those fucking self-absorbed pricks.''
Ethan watches as his sister stands up, a look of disgust on her face. "This fake blood shit is so gross," she says. "I need another shower, it's still in my hair."
